The Devil Takes His Bride

"They called him the Devil not for the sins he'd committed, but for the way he smiled when he came to collect."

"Hello, Bella." The name from his lips, too sweet to be sincere, and that infuriating grin cutting across his face the one that said he knew a secret I didn’t. Like he’d already won some game I didn’t realize we were playing.

"How are you feeling this morning?"

Shitty, thanks to you. Of course, he didn’t need to know that he had any impact on my mood. It was bad enough that I was touching myself to thoughts of him last night.

“I’m doing fantastic, capo dei capi.” I slapped my grossly polite smile on.

Dante's fingers brushed the small of my back as we descended the stairs a gesture that looked courtly to observers but burned like a brand through my silk dress.

He arched a skeptical eyebrow. "Where did you suddenly find manners from?"

"Same place you lost yours," I said sweetly, ignoring how my pulse jumped when his thumb traced a hidden circle against my spine.

Behind us, my mother's nervous chatter filled the hallway. "Ella, carina, go to your room."

"But Dante brought cannoli..."

"You can eat them upstairs, Ella."

"Now." My father's voice carried an unfamiliar edge.

The bowl clattered as she scrambled away. Dante didn’t even glance at the commotion. His attention stayed fixed on me, that smirk playing at the corner of his mouth like he was savoring a private joke.

I resisted the urge to fidget with my robe belt. "Problem?" I asked, matching his casual tone.

"Not at all." His sleeve brushed my arm, deliberate, testing. "Just admiring your performance."

"Performance?"

"The way you pretend you’re not curious." His eyes locked on mine. "About why I’m really here."

His security guy was positioned at the door, ignoring my presence. Dante’s bodyguards were different than Dad’s. They wore actual uniforms and most likely had a military background.

“If being vague is one of your traits, I give you an A-plus. Highly impressive.” I gave him two thumbs up.

“You are funny.” His lips were pulled tight in a flat line.

“Are you ready for the verdict, Bella?” The corner of his lips curved sinfully.

The hairs on my arms stood on end, and I felt like I was on a roller coaster the second before it dipped. I had to take a shuddering breath and brave the waves of fear crashing against my ribcage.

“Dying for it.” I rolled my eyes.

“Follow me out,” he ordered.

“No, thank you.”

“I’m not asking,” he clipped.

“Good, because I’m not accepting.” The harsh words felt violent on my lips. I’d never been so rude to anyone.

“Pack a suitcase, Sophia.”

“Excuse me?”

“Pack. A. Suitcase,” he repeated slowly, as though my understanding his words was the issue, and not their irrational content. “As of fifteen minutes ago, you’re officially betrothed to yours truly. The wedding is at the end of the week.”

He delivered the news coldly as the floor beneath my feet quaked and shattered, sending me spiraling into an oblivion of anger and shock.

“My dad would never do that to me.” My feet seemed to glue to the ground, too scared to go upstairs and test my own words. “He wouldn’t give me to a monster.”

A slow smirk spread across his face. He feasted on my rage with open hunger. “I told you you’d be mine.”

Maybe you are just a pawn to him?”

I launched at him with everything I had.

I was taught that as a woman, making a scene was the most common form of the lower class. But in this moment, it didn't matter. Even still, the slap on his cheek didn’t come quite with the force I was hoping for.

He didn’t flinch. He only smiled.

“I’m giving you a couple of hours to get your things in order. Whatever’s left here will stay here. Do not test me on the issue of punctuality, Bella.” He entered my personal space, gave me a forehead kiss.

“How could you do this?” In a heartbeat, I moved from defying him to sobbing, pushing at his chest now. I wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t even entirely sure I was breathing. “How did you convince my parents to give you their approval?”

I was their first child. My mother was prone to miscarriages. She called me her priceless jewel—but here I was, given to a stranger. My parents cherry-picked every admirer who approached me at public functions and were notoriously protective when it came to my friends. What problems could Dad have that would make him do this? What about his plans for me and Mhino?

For the first time ever, I considered my father less than a deity. He had weaknesses, too. And Dante Romano had just found every one of them and exploited them to his benefit.

He strolled through the door, his bodyguards at his feet like loyal Labrador puppies.

I shot up to the second floor, my legs on fire, adrenaline coursing through them.

“How could you!” The first person I aimed my anger at was Mama, who promised to have my back on the subject of marriage. I sprinted toward her, but my dad held me down and Mario grabbed my other arm.

I kicked and screamed as they pulled me out of Dad’s office while my mom stood there with unshed tears brewing in her eyes. The lawyers were all hunched in a corner of the room, staring at papers and pretending that nothing unusual had happened. I wanted to scream until the entire house crumbled and buried all of us under its ruins. To shame them, to fight them.

I’m twenty two. I can run away.

But run away to what? I was completely isolated. I knew no one and nothing other than my parents, Amara, and Mhino. Besides, what resources would I have?

“Sophia,” Papa said with a tone etched with stony determination. “Not that it matters, but it is not your mother’s fault. I chose Dante because he’s the better choice. Dante controls the ports, the unions, the politicians. Mhino controls nothing. Dante’s capo dei capi. He's more beneficial to you.”

“I’m not some property you can just give away.” I could feel my vocal cords shaking as the words tore from my mouth. “I’m a person.”

“You’re both,” he retorted. “And as the daughter of a made man, you are to make sacrifices, whether you want to or not. Can't you see I am doing this for you, my love?”

They carried me toward my room at the end of the hall. Mama trailed behind us, mumbling apologies I was too freaked out to hear. I didn’t, for one second, believe that my father chose to give me to Dante without consulting me first. But I also knew he was too proud to ever admit it. Dante held the power here, and I had no idea why.

“I don’t want the most eligible bachelor, the president of the United States, and least of all fucking Dante,” I barked, but no one was listening.

I am air. Invisible and insignificant, but vital all the same.

They stopped in front of my room, their grip on my wrists tightening. My body went slack when I realized they were no longer moving, and I ventured to peer inside. Clara was stuffing my clothes and shoes into open suitcases on my bed, wiping away her tears.

Mama grabbed my shoulders and turned me around to face her.

Ella hovered in the doorway, her arms crossed tight over her chest, eyes darting between us like she was waiting for someone to tell her this was a joke.

"What about Mhino, huh, Mama?" I said, crying. "My boyfriend that you guys gave to me?"

"This is all I am? A pawn for you to play?"

Mama sighed, smoothing her skirt like she was ironing out the wrinkles in this conversation. "You don’t even really know Mhino, vita mia."

"I know Dante even less." And what I did know of him, I hated.

"He’s wealthy, good-looking, and he holds power." Mama’s voice dropped to a whisper, as if that made it better. "He can protect you."

"Protect me from what?" I nearly laughed. "From him?"

Ella stepped forward then, her jaw set. "She doesn’t want this."

Mama shot her a warning look. "Ella, go to your room."

"No." Ella planted herself beside me, shoulder to shoulder. "Is this what’s going to happen to me too, Mama?"

For the first time since this nightmare started, my breath steadied. I squeezed her hand before gently nudging her back. "Go downstairs, El. It’s okay."

"It’s not okay," she muttered, but after a beat, she stormed off.

Mama waited until Ella’s footsteps faded before gripping my chin. "This isn’t just about you, Sophia. The family needs this." Her perfume that same rose oil she’d worn since I was a child clung to her. "We don’t have a choice."

"There’s always a choice," I whispered.

"Not this time."

Papa appeared in the doorway, his tie loosened like he’d been pulling at it. "We love you, vita mia." The old pet name, from when I still fit in the crook of his arm, landed like a knife. "But love doesn’t pay debts. Or stop bullets."

The silence that followed was thicker than blood.

I turned to my half-packed suitcase.

When I finally sat on the edge of my bed, the truth settled cold in my ribs:

This was going to be another cage.

But Dante’s voice whispered through the cracks in my resolve: "I can give you that. A chance to burn it all down. The only one who can save you.”

Lies. They had to be.

Yet as the car pulled up outside, a traitorous thought came to my mind. What if he meant it?

Or was I just another pawn in his game?

And another thought, what secret was so vile that my father would sell his daughter to bury it?