Into The Devil's Den

Valeria

Everything had happened too fast. One minute I was Valeria DeLuca, the woman who had built a kingdom for herself, and the next I was being sold like a piece of old furniture.  The two silent men in the black suits had dragged me into this strange house, and I had not said a word. I didn’t resist. I was too numb to feel any fear.

I gazed at the heavy wooden walls, the endless shadows in this strange mansion. The room that had been given to me was luxurious, but still it was a cage. It had silk sheets, velvet chairs and crystal chandeliers. I didn’t want any of it.

A gentle rap at the door interrupted my whirlwind of thoughts. I stood up and opened it slowly. It was a tall man in a black suit, whose face was unreadable and whose eyes were blank. “The Boss is asking for you.” I said nothing at first. I have him a little nod and closed the door.

I made my way to the table, poured myself a drink and drank it down in a single gulp. The burn was deep, but not deep enough as I wanted it to be.

I squeezed my hand around the glass. If my family believed they’d crushed me, they were mistaken. I would seduce this man, and use him to burn them.

I dropped the glass, which smashed on the floor. I didn’t flinch. I just grinned, and raked my sandy hair, as I spunned around to face the mirror. “Let the game begin.”

I tossed my hair, straightened my spine and walked out of the room — dignified and unruffled — as though I had not just sworn a blood oath. The silent servant led me down the long corridor to Dante’s study.

I saw him the second I walked in. He was sitting across from me, facing away with a phone in his hand, his voice low.

I stopped at the door, my heart feeling somehow tight. “I want those crates inspected before sunrise,” he barked into the phone. “No excuses. If it gets bad I won't mind cutting hands.” Then he ended the call and turned.

His eyes met mine — gray, stormy, and impenetrable. I’d seen his photo before. On the news. In whispered rumors. But in real life, Dante Moretti was danger in flesh.

I gazed right back, determined not to be the first one to blink. He tilted his head slightly. “You’re late.”

I walked in slowly. “I didn’t think I would be called for.”

“You live here now. Expectation is constant.” He nodded toward the half filled glass on his desk. I understood so I moved closer to him and poured him a drink, catching the smell of whiskey in the back of my throat. I placed the glass in front of him and stared at him.

And without a word of thanks, he outstretched his hand and accepted it. I took the seat across from him. Dante Moretti was handsome, sure — but it was a cold, harsh kind of handsome. One you didn’t trust. One that could break you if you leaned in too close. And I didn’t mean to get up close. I intended to use him.

Even so, there was something about him that made me cautious. He was quiet, but every word he said was meaningful. He relaxed in his chair and took a slow sip. “You’ve been here for a month.”

I nodded once. “Yes.”

“You’ve done… nothing.”

“I had no idea what I was supposed to do,” I added cautiously. He chuckled dryly. “So you thought you were brought here to sit in your room drinking wine all day?”

I flinched, just slightly. “I was adjusting.”

“Adjust faster,” he said. “This isn’t a vacation. You weren’t brought here to sit around and cry over what you lost.”

I clenched my jaw. “ I never asked to be brought here.”

“You were paid for,” he bluntly said. “And now you work.”

I wanted to scream. I wanted to spit in his face and call him every dirty word in the dictionary. But I swallowed it down. This wasn’t the time.

“What kind of work?” I asked.

He reached over and pushed a gray folder across the table. “You ride with my men tomorrow. You’ll be checking goods. Recording quantities. Ensuring quality. Anything goes missing, it’s on you.”

I peered at the papers within. It was a simple job. But it meant something bigger to me. He was watching me now. He was finally acknowledging me. I nodded. “Understood.”

He waved me off with his fingers.

I made my way back to my room that evening with a weird feeling. Not entirely triumphant, but not to be forgotten. I wasn’t a ghost anymore to him. I was in the game. And tonight… I would strike.

I turned off my light and slipped into my red satin pajamas. The material twinkled against the skin. I shook my wet hair over my shoulders and reached for the folder of reports he’d given me.

I ventured down the hall to the room he was using. I paused at his door and raised my hand to knock.

But then I paused. I could hear a voice speaking inside.

“—she doesn’t know. The girl doesn’t know that the vineyard never truly belonged to her.” My breath caught.

“She believes she got it from that old vintner. But the land was stolen. It has been the property of the Moretti family, your family, before her mentor received it as a silent deal.”

What?

“She’s standing on ground that didn’t belong to her,” the voice continued, sounding frustrated. Then I heard Dante’s voice. “I know. That’s why I wanted her.”

I took a step back, my hands shaking. He knew? He had planned all of this?

“How is that possible?” I hissed under my breath, everything inside me spinning out of control. As if he could hear my whisper, his voice broke through my reverie clear and firm.

“Who is there?”