Keeping Lily: A Dark Romance

by Izzy Sweet

  “Ugh, what am I? Your sex slave?”

  Turning my head, I look at her. “No, because that would mean you weren’t absolutely lusting after my body. This morning was proof that you are.”

  She sits there quietly as I finish putting my shoes and socks on. “Start packing all of your belongings. I will have a moving company over here later this morning to help you pack it all up. I want you in our home today.”

  Standing up, I look at her, she has that dumbfounded look again. “Your life is starting over Lilith. It’s for the best if you accept it to ensure you and I are happy.”

  “I can’t… this can’t be real… I swear I’m…” she mutters as she rubs her eyes. Her breasts rise and fall with the movements of her arms.

  “One other thing, don’t try going to the police,” I warn. “I own them. Don’t go to your friends or neighbors for help, I will kill them. If you try to escape me, you will regret it.”

  Grabbing my phone, I place it in my pocket.

  Walking around the bed, I grab her phone from her nightstand then lean over and kiss the top of her head. She has a furious look on her face as I chuckle.

  “Be good. I will see you this evening.”

  Walking out of the bedroom, I head down the stairs and out the front door. My driver is there waiting for me as I smile to myself. Today should be interesting.

  6

  Lily

  Your life is starting over, Lilith, is what Lucifer said before he left me.

  But it doesn’t feel like my life is starting over. It feels like my life has been ripped away from me.

  Today I was going to meet with a lawyer, I was going to work towards securing my freedom from Marshall. I had a damn plan.

  Now I belong to a madman.

  And he is mad, there’s no doubt about that. No sane person believes they can own another person, or believes they can get away with it.

  How am I going to get us out of this? All kinds of possibilities run through my head as I rush through a much needed shower.

  Do I attempt to make it to the authorities? Will they be able to help me? He said he owns them. If I did contact law enforcement, I’d probably have to make contact with someone on a federal level. No doubt Lucifer has all the local law enforcement on his payroll.

  And no doubt reaching out to the authorities would just draw his ire. What do I have to trade in exchange for protection?

  Nothing. Nada. I don’t even have any useful information.

  All I know is what I witnessed last night. All I know is that my husband owes him five million dollars.

  Really, Lucifer hasn’t even done anything to me yet but make threats… It’s my word against his, and I know how those cases tend to go. It wouldn’t go in my favor.

  He didn’t even have to coerce me into sleeping with him. I was so starved for touch, for affection, I pretty much threw myself at him, and that’s not going to help my case at all.

  It just makes me look willing. God, I’m pathetic.

  Scrubbing down my arms, I feel dirty and confused. And so fucking stupid.

  How did I let that happen? Why did I let my body overrule my brain? I could have told him no. I could have demanded he stop. But I didn’t. I just wanted more.

  Even now, in this shower, just the memory of what we did has my blood warming. The smell of him, the feel of him, draws me in. There’s something about him, something addictive, I can’t even explain it. I lost all sense of right or wrong. I just wanted him so bad.

  I didn’t even ask him to use protection.

  Shit. My hand rubs over my tummy. I haven’t been on birth control for months, there’s been no need for it. Marshall and I have had a dead bedroom for almost a year now.

  It’s not likely, but I could be pregnant with Lucifer’s child now.

  Oh god, oh god. Don’t go down that road. That road only leads to madness.

  I shut off the water and dry myself off.

  I’m not pregnant, no way. I take a deep, calming breath and then let it slowly out.

  Be reasonable, Lily.

  It always took Marshall and me a few weeks before his little swimmers took. I’ll just have to be sure I get away so this doesn’t happen again. We just need to go.

  What if we just make a run for it? Disappear in the wind? That feels like the best option. Maybe if Lucifer can’t find us after a time he’ll just give up. It’s not like I’m worth much effort. He could go steal someone else’s wife, or hell, find his very own.

  We’re not worth his trouble.

  I’d just need to withdraw some money from the bank account to buy everything we need. We’ll need clothes, food and shelter. Hopefully Marshall hasn’t drained all the money already. The last time I checked our savings we had about fifty grand in there.

  Twisting my hair up into a messy knot, I frown at myself in the mirror. My eyes are dark and my skin is pale. I look like I haven’t slept in a year.

  What should I wear? When I drive the kids to school I usually just throw on some sweatpants, a baggy t-shirt and go sans makeup. I don’t normally care who sees me like this, dropping off the kids isn’t a catwalk moment.

  If I don’t want to tip anyone off to my plans I should probably keep things as normal as possible.

  If I’m really lucky I can get the kids and myself out of this mess without them ever realizing what is going on or what kind of danger we’re in. If I act fast enough I can spare them the confusion of our situation.

  That small spark of hope gets my butt moving.

  Usually, getting the kids up for school is a bit hectic. There’s always something that keeps it from going smoothly so I know I have act fast.

  Throwing on my morning clothes, I wake up the kids and help them get dressed for school. Neither one of them seems to be aware of anything that happened last night. They slept through it all, and they’re sleepy and grumpy as usual.

  Things almost feel normal as we sit down and have a cold breakfast together. Once we’re full, I gather up their jackets and backpacks and step out the door. Maybe this won’t be as hard as I thought.

  “Mom?” Adam asks as I’m locking the side door behind us. “Whose car is that?”

  “Huh?” I say before turning my head. Twisting the key in the lock, I almost snap it off.

  Motherfucker.

  There’s a sleek black sedan parked behind mine in the driveway blocking me in.

  Dammit. I should have known better.

  “Mom?” Adam asks again, his big green eyes looking up at me for an answer.

  Sighing, I settle my purse on my shoulder and try to sound as unconcerned as possible. “I don’t know, honey. Maybe they’re lost.”

  “Wrong house?” he suggests.

  I smile tightly and nod my head. “That’s probably it.”

  I take a step forward and the driver’s side door of the black sedan pops open. Out steps a freakin’ Viking dressed in a black suit.

  Little Evelyn gasps and grabs onto my leg and Adam’s green eyes go even wider in his head. I don’t blame them. I too feel a little intimidated by the giant man staring us down. He must be at least 6’4 and is built like a NFL linebacker. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and a thick blonde beard.

  His voice is rumbly and deep as he says, “Ma’am. Lucifer has asked me to drive you today.”

  Glancing up and down my street, my heart races in my chest and this morning’s cereal is threatening to come back up. Can I get away from this guy? Do I dare involve my neighbors by asking them for help?

  I don’t want to get anyone innocent killed on my behalf.

  Parked a couple of houses down the street I notice another black car.

  Dammit.

  That car isn’t usually there. How many people does he have watching me? How far can we make it if we try to make a run for it now?

  Probably not far.

  The Viking doesn’t speak another word. He just stares me down, watching me. He’s big and I bet he’s slow. I might be able to outrun him…
if I didn’t have two little children with me.

  What choice do I have?

  Licking my lips, I ask, “What did you say your name is?”

  His hands relax and he seems more at ease as he answers. “Peter.”

  Tears of frustration prick at my eyes but I can’t break down in front of my children, I just can’t. The both of them already seem freaked out as it is.

  Reaching down, I grab Evelyn’s hand and say reassuringly, “It’s okay, honey. There’s nothing to be afraid of. Peter is just going to give us a ride to school.”

  “Why? Who is he?” Adam asks. He’s always been an inquisitive child, and I know I have to be very careful with what I say or he’ll figure out something’s wrong.

  “Oh, I completely forgot I need to take my car to the shop. It needs some work done.”

  Prying Evelyn’s little fingers off of my leg, I check my watch. “Come on. We need to hurry up or you’ll be late for first bell.”

  Adam gives me a skeptical look and frowns. Evelyn drags her feet, literally, as I walk us up to the black car.

  Peter comes around the front and opens the back door for us. Evelyn shies away but Adam only looks up at him with curiosity like Peter is an equation he wants to figure out.

  “Hurry up or we’re going to be late,” I press and motion for Adam to enter the car ahead of me.

  He enters first, reluctantly, and I pull Evelyn in with me. Peter shuts the door.

  Out of sheer curiosity, I reach over and check the door by pulling on the handle. It doesn’t open. The child locks must be enabled.

  This just keeps getting worse and worse.

  Peter slides into the driver’s seat and starts up the car. Our eyes meet in the rearview mirror and he asks, “Where to?”

  The police station? My parents’ house? Mexico?

  “Cherry Grove Elementary. Do you know where that is?”

  Peter nods his head, “Yes, Ma’am.”

  There’s a moment of quiet and then he asks, “Then Summit Academy for your daughter?”

  Damn. My heart skips a beat and dread sinks into my bones. They already know where my children go to school? What else do they know?

  7

  Lucifer

  Despite how I feel about Marshall, and my lack of trusting my intuition in regards to loaning him money, I still feel like I have come out ahead.

  Looking at the house as we back out of the drive, I smirk. Way ahead. Marshall didn’t deserve the life he had.

  Do I? I don’t really give a fuck; I’m taking it regardless.

  Up in the front seat Andrew looks at me in the rearview mirror. “Where to, sir?”

  “The warehouse on fifteenth.”

  The SUV pulls out of the driveway, slowly accelerating down the street. Looking to my side, I check the files left on the seat beside me.

  It’s the start of the month, where all the deadbeat shits who have borrowed money get their increase in debt. Last night was the end of the month, collection time.

  “Fuck, last night was long,” I mutter as I push the folder out of my lap and onto the seat.

  “Yeah, it was.”

  “Did Mickey give you any trouble last night when you dropped him off?”

  “No sir, it was a quick job. I had nothing beyond cleaning up the mess.”

  “Well the fat fuck has decided that his odds are better down at the police station instead of seeing to the missing finger. Which hand did you take the pinky from?”

  “That stupid motherfucker. The right hand, sir,” he says angrily.

  “Yeah, he was, bet that right hand was going to cause him problems anyways,” I say, snickering.

  “I really did try to impress on Mickey the seriousness of the situation, sir. I am deeply sorry if there was any way I could have prevented this.”

  “This isn’t on you, Andrew.”

  “Thank you, Lucifer.”

  Nodding my head, I reach forward and grab the metal cup sitting in the cup holder. It’s good to know my guys know what I want when they come to work for me. The black coffee warms up my stomach as I look back over at the folder.

  “Shit.”

  “Sir?”

  “I hate paperwork.” I shake my head. “Paperwork and stupid people.”

  Life in my world is pretty much black or white, much like the legal world. Except here it’s what can you do for me or how much you will be in my way. I have carefully selected those around me to be people who I can trust.

  Andrew, in front of me, is one of those I have chosen as a trusted employee. He does exactly as I ask. Doesn’t question orders, and will not betray me. I have instilled in him a sense of loyalty and confidence.

  I don’t fuck around with turncoats; I have made that very clear to each and every person who works for me. The last person who tried to sell me out left a lasting impression on my guys, and any of those government fucks who want to put me in prison. I guess that happens when you kill the guy and every single member of his family.

  It’s an effective message when you wipe someone’s blood line off the planet.

  Andrew didn’t fuck up last night, I know that. People like Mickey will happen. Somehow they think they can just back out of a commitment without there being repercussions

  Thinking of issues to be dealt with, I need to keep up with Bartholomew. He has been with my group for a few years now and the thought that he would be stupid enough to be fucking around on me and my crew is almost too much.

  But then again, everyone finds a Judas at least once.

  Leaning forward, I say, “Andrew, I need you and Thomas to keep an eye on Bart.”

  Looking in the rearview mirror, he says, “As in watch out for him being a rat?”

  “It’s a possibility, there have been mutterings.”

  “Got it.”

  Thomas and Andrew have been with me the longest, I trust them implicitly.

  Picking the file back up, I look through the ledger.

  The outstanding debt was significantly cut down over last week. But as in life there is always some dumb fuck willing to take on more debt than he could ever repay. I try to avoid those shits.

  I need to see my investments returned in full with interest if I want to remain successful.

  * * *

  Pulling into the parking lot of the old warehouse a couple of cars are already there waiting for me. I see Simon’s Audi and then the late model Ford Explorer that belongs to Detective Sommers. There’s a bloody handprint smear that slides down half the side of the vehicle that makes me wince.

  For Christ’s sake, who the fuck does he think we are? Some backwoods fucking clan of fucktards? Though, to be honest, it makes me laugh on the inside a little because that hand print is missing a pinky.

  I step out of my SUV and snap a finger at Andrew. “Clean that fucking shit off.”

  He looks to the handprint and rolls his eyes. “Jesus, Lucifer, what the fuck is he thinking?”

  Shaking my head, I don’t answer.

  Dipping my head down into the cold wind, I head into the building. It’s getting colder now that winter is finally showing its fucking face. It’s been hot for way too long around here, we need the winter. The fucking heat brings out the crazies.

  The door slams loudly behind me as I walk past the broken-down front desk. This building is older than me and hasn’t seen an honest worker in years. But that’s the beauty of it, it’s still full of all that old equipment shit, making me a legitimate business owner in a sense. Even if I don’t have any employee’s here.

  Going past all the stamp presses and sheet metal cutters, I head to the back of the building. It’s not hard to figure out where all the action is. I just follow the fucking blood trail like Hansel and Gretel.

  Another shake of my head, I’m getting more pissed as I see how much blood and fucking DNA evidence there is on the shit around me.

  When I get to the back of the large building, I see Mickey bound to a chair with a gag crammed far into his mouth.
There’s snot and tears all over his face. He looks like shit.

  The detective isn’t much better. He has a black eye forming and his usually neat, orderly suit is bloody and ripped in spots.

  “What the fuck happened to you, Sommers?” I ask as I come up to the trio. Simon is the only one who looks normal.

  Simon raises his eyes at me as I give a small nod of my head. Putting his hand inside the inner pocket of his coat, he pulls out a large enveloped that is stuff full of cash.

  “This piece of shit,” Sommers growls before lashing out with a fist at Mickey’s face. “Fucking fought me the whole damn way.”

  “I can tell,” I say. “Did you not see the fucking bloody handprint on your Explorer?”

  “Shit, seriously?”

  Nodding my head, I watch as Simon hands the money over to Sommers. “Yeah, and all the fucking DNA you left on the way in here.”

  Shaking his head, he looks at Mickey, “You stupid fat fuck!”

  Sommers punches a barely coherent Mickey twice before he steps back. Spitting on the man, he says “You fucking ruined my damn suit, you pile of shit.”

  Turning to me, Sommer’s has a penitent look on his face as he says, “Lucifer, I’m sorry about the mess he left coming in here.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Did anyone at the precinct see Mickey? Anyone going to be an issue?”

  “Nah, all my guys were on duty last night.” Putting the envelope in his jacket pocket, he pats it. “Won’t be a problem at all.”

  “Good,” I say and then look at Mickey. He’s slowly coming around now. “Mickey, that was fucking stupid. You should have come to me if you couldn’t pay me back. Now you’ve caused way too many problems. I tried to give you a lesson last night, but all you’ve shown me is that you’re too stupid to fucking learn.”

  Shaking my head, I walk over to Simon. Motioning with my hand, I accept the nine-millimeter pistol he places it in my hand. “Mickey, your fat twat of a wife is going to die because of what you did last night.”

  Eyes bulging, he screams into the gag. His words are too garbled to understand, but I bet he is saying some sad shit to me. Least I hope he is because he fucked up bad enough that he is ending her life too.