Page 9 of Saint (The Divine Ruin #2)
Lily
I stare at my reflection in the full-length mirror, barely recognizing the woman staring back at me.
The black dress clings to every curve I usually hide beneath sweaters and jeans, the neckline plunging low enough to make my mother faint if she could see me.
The hem stops mid-thigh, revealing more leg than I’ve shown in public since. .. well, ever.
“Holy shit,” I whisper, turning to see how the fabric hugs my ass. I bought this dress on a whim yesterday, slipping into a boutique where no one would recognize the Governor’s daughter, paying cash so it wouldn’t appear on my credit card statement.
My roommate Zoe would call this a death wish. Dad would probably have Luca killed. The thought sends a forbidden thrill through me.
I spritz perfume on my wrists and neck, something heavier and more sensual than my usual light floral scent.
The saleswoman had called it “seduction in a bottle” and winked when I blushed.
Now I understand why. The smell is dark and rich, like whiskey and vanilla, with a hint of something dangerously adult.
My fingers tremble slightly as I fasten the straps of my new stilettos—four inches of dangerous height I’m not used to. I wobble when I stand, taking a few practice steps across my room. If I’m going to play this game with a man like Luca Ravello, I refuse to do it halfway.
The memory of him in the café yesterday floods back—how he towered over me, his presence filling the room like smoke, suffocating and intoxicating at once.
The way his voice dropped when he told me to wear something that shows what I’m hiding.
The hunger in his eyes that should have terrified me, but instead made something liquid and hot pool between my thighs.
I grab my phone to check the time. Six forty-five. Zoe thinks I’m at the library, a lie that tasted sour on my tongue but slipped out easily enough. I type a quick message to Luca.
Me: Can you meet me by St. Augustine’s on Lafayette? 7:15?
His response comes almost immediately, making my heart leap into my throat.
Luca: I’ll be waiting, baby girl.
Baby girl. Two simple words that make my knees weak.
I’ve never been anyone’s baby girl before—I’ve been “sweetheart” to my father, “darling” to my mother, “Miss Moore” to everyone else.
But baby girl... that’s something altogether different.
Something that makes me press my thighs together against the sudden ache.
I apply one last coat of lipstick—red, bold, nothing like the pale pink gloss I usually wear—and grab my small clutch. Keys, ID, a hundred dollars cash, and a tube of lipstick. That’s all I’m bringing into Luca Ravello’s world tonight.
The hallway is mercifully empty as I slip out, my heels clicking against the linoleum.
I take the back stairs, avoiding the main lobby where someone might see me and remember later.
The Governor’s daughter doesn’t wear dresses that barely cover her ass or heels that make her legs look a mile long.
The Governor’s daughter doesn’t sneak out to meet men twice her age who look at her like they want to consume her whole.
But tonight, I’m not the Governor’s daughter. Tonight, I’m just Lily—a woman following the pull of something dark and hungry that’s lived inside me for years, something I’ve never dared to acknowledge until I saw it reflected in Luca’s eyes.
The night air kisses my bare shoulders and slides between my thighs like cool silk, raising goosebumps that tingle with each hurried step.
I press myself into shadows between street lamps, the distant bass from a nightclub pulsing in rhythm with my thundering heart.
My nipples harden against the thin fabric of my dress—from the chill or from anticipation, I can’t tell anymore.
Every car that passes makes me flinch, headlights threatening to expose this version of myself: lips swollen from nervous biting, pupils dilated with want, the scent of that seductive perfume mingling with the musk of my own arousal.
St. Augustine’s comes into view, its stone facade illuminated against the darkening sky.
And there, leaning against a sleek black car that probably costs more than my entire education, is Luca.
Even from a distance, I can feel the weight of his gaze as it lands on me, trailing down my body like a physical touch.
I falter for a moment, my stiletto catching on a crack in the sidewalk.
My pulse throbs in my throat as memories flood back—his silhouette at my father’s fundraiser, champagne glass dangling from long fingers, his gaze sliding over me like warm honey.
At the same time, politicians’ voices fade to white noise around us.
This is madness. But instead of retreating, my legs carry me forward, each step more deliberate than the last, the fabric of my dress whispering against my thighs as I move toward him like a compass finding north.
As I get closer, the night air slides between us like silk, carrying my perfume to him.
His jaw tightens, nostrils flaring slightly as he inhales.
His gaze travels from my ankles up my legs, lingering at the hem of my dress, then climbing higher to where the fabric clings to my hips, my waist, the swell of my breasts.
“Lily,” he says when I reach him, my name like dark honey on his tongue. He stands so close I can feel the heat radiating from his body, though he doesn’t touch me. His breath whispers against my ear. “You look... unexpected."
“Good unexpected or bad unexpected?” I ask, aiming for confidence despite the tremor in my voice.
His mouth hovers near my temple, close enough that I can almost taste the whiskey on his breath. “Deliciously unexpected.” He opens the passenger door, his fingers brushing mine as he takes my hand. “Last chance to walk away.”
I meet his gaze, finding my courage in the heat I see there. "I’m here, aren’t I?"
“So you are.” He gestures to the open door. “Get in, baby girl. The night is just beginning.”
I slide into the leather seat, the dress riding up my thighs as I do. I don’t pull it down, and I don’t miss how his eyes track the movement before he closes the door. My heart hammers against my ribs as he walks around to the driver’s side, every instinct screaming that I’m making a mistake.
But as he slides in beside me, filling the car with his presence and that intoxicating scent of expensive cologne and raw masculinity, I can’t bring myself to care.
Whatever consequences come from tonight—and there will be consequences, I’m not naive enough to believe otherwise—they’ll be worth it for the chance to discover what happens when the Governor’s perfect daughter steps into the darkness with a man who promises to corrupt her.