Coming Across the Real Devil

Camila’s POV

“Can’t you move anymore!? Fake groom?” I spat as soon as I was sure Daniil was out of sight.

“My name is Damien. Not ‘Fake Groom,’” he replied curtly, before turning his back to walk away.

“Wait up, arrogant freak!” I yelled, running after him, struggling to keep up with his pace. But he didn’t slow down or look back until we entered the elevator, which took us to the 10th floor.

The silence was deafening as we walked through the corridor, It was so quiet that even the sound of a pin dropping could have been heard.

“Why is everywhere so silent? Is this perhaps another den for the Varkanins?” I sneered, trying to match his stride.

“Don’t you know when to shut up?” he yelled over his shoulder, still walking ahead without stopping.

I fell silent for a moment, considering his words. I had pegged him as the cheerful type, the one I could mess with, but hearing him yell in that tone now, I realized he wasn’t as carefree as he appeared, he was just faking it.

We continued walking until we reached a door. He pulled out a key, unlocked it, and entered, with me following without a word.

“This is your room. You can only leave with my orders,” he declared, then walked out before I could respond.

“Crazy psychopath! Who are you to order me around?” I cursed under my breath, my fists clenched in anger.

I looked around the room, and my jaw dropped in surprise.

The room was the epitome of dark luxury, dimly lit by golden chandeliers that cast a soft glow over rich, black and maroon décor. A king-sized bed draped in silk sheets stood at the center, adorned with scattered rose petals and plush pillows.

The air carried a subtle scent of expensive cologne and fresh lilies on the side a bottle of aged wine rested in a silver bucket beside two crystal glasses.

“He must really have all the time in the world for this nonsense,” I sneered, walking toward the bed. A nightgown was laid out neatly on the bed, along with bathroom slippers and some transparent underwear.

“This nonsense. He really expects me to wear this? The gown and slippers, fine, but what am I supposed to do with these crazy underwear? Am I a stripper?” I yelled in frustration, stumbling toward the bathroom.

I quickly undressed, throwing my wedding gown aside and slipping into the bathroom letting the water splash over me, I tried to clear my mind but my thoughts were blur, stressed, confused, and depressed.

“Today is just about to end, but who knows? Maybe I won’t survive tomorrow and even if I do, what about the rest of the days with him?” I thought, running my hands through my hair.

When I emerged from the bathroom, I slipped into the nightgown, knowing I had no other choice than to wear the slippers, I walked over to the wine, poured myself a glass, and took a small sip, hoping it would calm my nerves.

I grabbed my phone from the bedside table and saw dozens of missed calls from Noemi, my best friend. She was furious today and hadn’t even attended my wedding.

I was about to call her back when I heard a loud knock on the door.

I dropped the glass and phone, walked toward the door, and without thinking twice, opened it wide. A middle-aged man in uniform stood there, likely one of the hotel staff.

“Mr. Varkanin requests your audience, ma’am,” he said, with a slight bow.

The corner of my mouth twitched. That fool thinks I’m fully prepared for his ridiculous honeymoon, right? I thought to myself.

“After you,” I said, smiling sarcastically, then closed the door behind me without asking him anything else.

We took the elevator back to the 7th floor, which was far more crowded and lively than the silent 10th floor. I wondered whether this was even a hotel or one of the Varkanin family’s hideouts.

As we walked through the corridors, I caught sight of some women in compromising positions with men. I didn’t pay much attention to them, not until we got closer and I realized we had entered a club.

The guards at the entrance didn’t stop us. They simply greeted us with a slight bow, but the looks from everyone else were unbearable.

“If looks could kill, I’d be dead already,” I thought, unable to ignore the stares. “She’s the only one wearing nightwear to a club,” I overheard some whispers. One thing was clear, they didn’t dare take out their phones to snap a picture. They knew better than to provoke death.

We climbed another set of stairs until we reached a room where the man stopped and gestured for me to go inside.

I nodded in response and entered the room with a faint smile.

The room was dim, shrouded in shadows and smoke with a bass of music throbbed through the walls. My eyes immediately landed on a lone figure sitting with his back to me. Broad shoulders, dark hair, he exuded an air of power that made the room feel heavier.

I walked toward him, standing tall behind him, my arms crossed beneath my chest.

“Is this how you treat your bride? By making her come to the club wearing nightwear?” I spat, glaring at him in disgust.

“You’re beautiful in anything, darling,” he replied smoothly, turning to face me.

The look on my face shifted instantly. This wasn’t Daniil. No, this was another ruthless bastard, one who dominated the business world. He and Daniil were both bosses, one ruling the mafia and the other towering over the business empire.

It couldn’t be what I’m thinking, could it? I thought, panic rising in my chest. They have a feud between them, and he’s going to use me as a scapegoat.

“Am I right?” he asked, standing up and walking closer to me. I instinctively took a few steps back, my heart racing with fear.

“Sorry! I must have entered the wrong room,” I stammered, quickly turning to leave. But I knew deep down, I wasn’t getting out of here unscathed.

Just as I predicted, several guards rushed in, blocking my path. I thought they were his men, but to my shock, Daniil walked out from their midst, grinning mischievously.

My blood boiled, my throat tightened. They couldn’t be acquaintances, right? That question flooded my mind as my eyes began to blur with tears.