5. Owing The Devil

~Alina~

A slow, steady beeping sound pulled me from the darkness. My head throbbed, my body ached, and the air smelled different. Unfamiliar.

I woke up slowly, my eyes adjusting to the soft light from the chandelier above me. The ceiling was high, decorated with gold patterns on ivory-white paint. The bed beneath me was too soft, the sheets cool against my skin.

As I turned my head, the rest of the room came into focus—furniture, heavy velvet curtains partly covering tall windows, and shiny black tiles.

This wasn’t my room.

A chill ran down my spine as last night’s memories hit me.

I had been kidnapped.

Panic shot through me and I tried to sit up, but my movements felt restrained and uncomfortable.

My hands flew to my chest, gripping the unfamiliar fabric and as I slowly looked down a violent shiver ran through me.

I was wearing a pristine white lace wedding gown.

My breath hitched.

What. The. Hell?

A scream tore from my throat before I could stop it.

The door burst open, and three women hurried in, dressed in identical black and white uniforms. Their heads were bowed as they approached, their movements careful and elegant.

Maids, most likely.

“Ma’am, is something the matter?” one of them asked.

I stared at them, my heart hammering.

“Where am I? What is this? What the hell is happening? Who are you? And why—” I gestured wildly at the gown “—am I wearing this?!”

The maids exchanged confused glances before one of them gave me a soft, almost pitiful smile.

“You must still be disoriented from last night. It seems you had a little too much to drink.”

My mouth fell open.

Drunk?! I never drank. What nonsense.

The maid continued, her tone gentle, as if she were speaking to a child.

“We’ve been ordered to prepare you. Today is your wedding day, after all.”

My blood turned to ice.

Wedding day? Hell no!

Yesterday was supposed to be my wedding day. Not today.

Before I could demand answers, a deep, smooth voice cut through the room.

“Excuse us.”

The maids immediately stepped aside, their heads lowering in silent obedience.

I turned toward the door.

And my entire body locked in terror.

He stood in the doorway, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit that hugged his tall, broad frame. His black hair was cut short on the sides with the top left longer, tousled stylishly in a way that drew attention to his chiseled jawline and sharp cheekbones. His golden eyes burned into mine, sharp, stormy yet hypnotic.

Expensive cologne and something dangerous—filled the air as he approached the sole of his shiny shoes barely making a sound against the floor.

Behind him, several guards loomed, their expressions blank and their presence threatening. But they halted as he crossed the threshold, radiating something far more menacing than all of them combined.

My breath stilled.

I had never seen this man before, yet my gut screamed that he was the one who kidnapped me.

He had to be.

A tremor ran through me as I inched back on the bed, grabbing the nearest pillow like a weapon.

“Stay away from me!” I yelled, my voice breaking.

“Who are you? Why did you kidnap me? What do you want from me?”

He didn’t answer.

He simply chuckled, the sound deep and amused, like I was nothing more than a silly little thing throwing a tantrum.

His smirk sent a cold chill down my spine as he strode toward me, his presence swallowing the room.

Instinctively, I clutched the pillow tighter, stretching it at him like a gun.

“I said stay back!”

He stopped at the edge of the bed, tilting his head slightly.

“That’s a pillow, dummy.”

Before I could react, he flicked my forehead lightly, the action so unexpected that I jolted.

Then, just as easily, he yanked the pillow from my hands and tossed it aside before taking a seat, completely unfazed by my fear.

His audacity left me speechless.

“Open the drawer,” he instructed, his voice slow but commanding.

“What?”

His golden eyes darkened. “Don’t question me.”

A shiver ran through me at the warning in his tone.

My fingers trembled as I reached for the nightstand, pulling open the drawer. Inside were two brown envelopes.

“Take them.”

I did. My hands shook as I opened the first one.

My stomach twisted painfully as I scanned the documents.

It was an agreement. A contract.

Between my father and a man named Valentino Romano.

My breath caught in my throat.

My father… had borrowed an absurd amount of money from this man six months before his death. And the terms were brutal. If he failed to repay it within two years, Valentino had the right to seize three of his properties.

The paper nearly slipped from my hands.

Why?

Why would my father take out such a loan? What had he been planning before he died?

I lifted my gaze, my lips parting in disbelief.

“What is this?”

He leaned back lazily. “Your father owed me.” His tone was casual, as if we were discussing the weather.

“He couldn’t pay before he died. Afterward, the banks confiscated his properties and wealth for… reasons I can’t disclose.”

“What reasons?” I demanded.

He smirked. “I can’t tell you.”

My hands curled into fists. “Yes, you can’t ! Because you’re lying! Stop pretending you knew him.”

His expression didn’t change, but something in his gaze sharpened.

“I knew your father, Luca Moretti. I knew your mother, Cindy Moore Moretti. I know the truth behind their deaths. I know you live in Toronto, that you attended Soreheights College of Medicine. That you studied nursing. I know you were engaged until two nights ago. That you were supposed to be married yesterday.”

A cold weight settled in my chest.

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

“I know your friend Jade and your fiancé Ethan have been deceiving you for years. I know you came to Italy to visit your grandmother, Nana.”

My entire body turned to stone.

He stared at me, completely calm.

“I know everything about you, amore.”

I couldn’t breathe.

Who the hell was this man? How did he know so much about me and my family?

And the truth behind my parents’ deaths…Everyone said it was an accident. Was that a lie?

Valentino continued, “I don’t care how righteous you think your father was. What matters is that he owed me. And now, you’re going to pay his debt.”

My pulse spiked. “How am I supposed to afford that kind of money?”

“You can’t,” he said, smirking .

“That’s why I’m offering you a deal.”

He gestured to the second envelope.

“Check it.”

My stomach twisted as I opened it.

My blood ran cold.

A marriage contract?

My eyes flew to his in horror.“ What! You want me to marry you?”

“Yes. Be my wife for six months. Our wedding is set for 10 a.m. today.”

His lips curled into a smirk.

“That’s the first payment of your father’s debt. We’ll figure out the rest later.”

“Hell no!” I shot up from the bed, wobbling slightly .

“I’d rather chew glass!”

Valentino chuckled. “Funny, considering you were out last night looking for a fake fiancé.”

My breath hitched.

How does he know that?

He rose to his feet, slipping his hands into his pockets. “You don’t have a choice because this isn’t a request, it’s an order. Sign the papers, the car is waiting.”

I shook my head furiously.

“No. I’m not interested, thanks.”

He smirked. “Your grandmother and cousin are already on their way to the venue. Don’t keep everyone waiting.”

“What?” I screamed, my eyes popping out in horror.

He arched a brow.

“Why so surprised? Didn’t you promise to bring your fiancé to her? I did you a favor. Don’t be an ingrate.”

He was right. Seems like I truly had no choice.

I don’t know exactly who he is, but he’s definitely dangerous and I guess there’s no escaping him.

And then there’s what he said about my parents’ deaths. He knows something—something no one else has ever mentioned. If I marry him, I can get close, learn the truth.

He didn’t say anything about the inheritance , which means he’s unaware.

Good

I just have to be his wife for six months. Secure the inheritance, get the information I need, then disappear.

That’s it.

With trembling hands, I reached for the pen on the nightstand, my fingers cold and unsteady.

My voice barely came out, a whisper of defeat.

“I agree.”

The tip of the pen scraped against the paper as I scribbled my signature, sealing my fate.

I swallowed hard, forcing the words past the tightness in my throat.

“I’ll marry you.”