Ruin you

_Serafina’s POV_

“Do you Celestine DeLuca, take Dimitri Volkov to be your lawfully wedded husband. To love and to be obey, until death do you part?” the priest asked and my gaze instantly shifted back to Dimitri.

He looked down at me, not with curiosity or warmth, but cold impatience.

Till death do us part. I wouldn’t want it any other way.

“I do,”

“Do you Dimitri…” the priest started, but before he even had a chance to finish, he was cut off.

“I do.” His words were low, his cold gaze burning into me. It seemed like the vows were an inconvenience to finish, a formality beneath him.

The ring bearers stepped forward and Dimitri took my hand, his grip firm.

He slid the ring into place before he let my hand drop to my side, picking his up without even giving me a chance to.

Getting the information, I need might be harder than I expected.

“You may now kiss the bride,” The priest announced and for a moment my heart skipped a beat.

Kiss the bride? I would have to take off my veil for that, before I could think of what to do Dimitri raised his hand.

“There’s no point in doing that, let’s head to the reception.” His voice was cold and he turned around and walked away, leaving me staring at his back.

The reception was bigger than what I had imagined, high chandeliers, golden lights and a lot of rich dangerous people.

The moment we stepped in, everyone turned to look at us.

The demon king and his new bride.

I walked beside him, keeping my steps small. I still had my veil covering my face but the whispers came earlier than I expected.

“She hasn’t removed her veil?

“She may be crying under that veil.”

If only they knew the real reason I kept it on; but amidst all the whispers, Dimitri said nothing.

Dimitri glanced in the direction the whispers came from and all that remained was silence.

One glance from him was enough for a man to rethink his life.

He didn’t need to raise his voice, he simply existed and that was all it took to command silence.

And all I did was follow him around.

Where he sat, I sat. Whenever he moved I moved.

I played the role of a quiet, obedient bride.

Then came Marco.

It had barely been an hour, but he swaggered through the crowd with a glass of champagne in his hand.

Marcos was the type of man that enjoyed breaking things just to see ow far he could push before someone stopped him.

And he was headed straight for me.

“My dear sister.” He drawled, stopping right beside me. “Why do you still have your veil on?” he asked, but I said nothing.

He leaned closer, eyes narrowing. “Why hide from your husband? Don’t you think he deserves to see your face?”

I need to tell Raphael to hasten up killing Marcos and his father.

At this rate, he was going to ruin my mission.

I tightened my hold on my dress. “Forgive me, brother. I prefer to keep it on until the night ends.”

The music dimmed around us. Conversations stilled. People were watching now.

They wanted to see how this ends.

Marco smirked. “Is that so? Let’s change that, shall we?”

His hand moved toward my veil—

—and stopped.

A pale, strong hand wrapped around his wrist. Dimitri’s.

He didn’t even look up from his glass of vodka when he spoke. “That hand doesn’t belong to you”

A pause. His voice was cold, and I question if coldness is all this man was capable of feeling.

The entire room went silent.

“Remove it… before I do.”

It was a blatant threat.

Marco froze. His eyes flicked down to Dimitri’s hand gripping his wrist, then up to Dimitri’s cold, unblinking face.

I could see the fear written all over his face.

“I was only—”

“Thinking,” Dimitri interrupted, “that you could disrespect me in my own house?”

His tone was calm, but every word was meant to come with some sort of hidden threat.

Marco swallowed hard. “You misunderstand, Dimitri. I just thought—”

“Don’t.” Dimitri’s voice dropped lower, he sounded like he was talking to some vermin that wasn’t worth his strength. “You think too loudly for someone so easily replaced.”

A small laugh broke from someone in the crowd. Marco’s face turned red.

Dimitri let go of his wrist, picking up a handkerchief from the table and wiping his hands slowly, like he was erasing Marco from existence.

“If you value that hand,” he added coldly, “keep it to yourself.”

Marco muttered something under his breath and walked away, but I could feel his glare burning through me.

I didn’t have to fear them ruining my plans, we had no use for them anymore.

Dimitri finally looked at me. “You’re not like I heard.”

His eyes were blank, staring right into me like he was trying to read my soul.

“And what did you hear?”

“That you were quiet. Obedient. Fragile. The girl the Deluca family has been hiding.”

I tilted my head slightly. “Then you heard wrong.”

His lips moved faintly, something close to a smirk but colder. “We’ll see.”

He would probably be dead by the time he sees anything, but it shouldn’t matter.

I would enjoy it when I take the life away from this one.

He turned his attention back to his drink, dismissing the rest of the room with that same cold authority. I tried to calm my heartbeat, but it was useless. I had faced killers before. I had faced worse. Yet there was something about him that made my instincts tighten, not from fear—but from awareness.

Dimitri Volkov was not like the others.

The rest of the night passed slowly. I stayed at the table, silent, playing the part of the meek bride. But inside, my mind was working fast. I memorized guard rotations, the layout of the estate, and which doors led where. The chandelier above us had a camera hidden in its rim. The guards by the side doors carried concealed weapons, not the visible ones in their holsters. Every detail, no matter how small, mattered.

At one point, Dimitri left to speak with some men in dark suits. I watched the way they bowed their heads when he spoke. Even the ones that smiled did so with restraint.

Everyone feared him

I was still watching when I felt someone’s gaze on me. I turned—and found him looking straight back.

Even from across the room, I could feel it. His eyes didn’t waver. He knew I was observing him.

For a second, I forgot to breathe.

Then he raised his glass slightly in a silent toast. Not mockery, possession.

“Don’t fall in love with the devil, Serafina,” Raphael’s words echoed in my head. “He’d ruin you. And he would make you enjoy it.”