All Chapters of Married To The Devil: Chapter 1 - Chapter 8

“The devil doesn’t come in red. He comes disguised as everything you’ve ever wanted”I hated these parties. They are always a battlefield, glistering and ruthless. It was one of those nights where appearance is everything.I stood near the balcony with my best friend Amara, holding a glass of champagne I did not plan to drink. The chandeliers above illuminate the room with light shining on sinners who don’t deserve them, well with the exception of my mother and sister. I glanced around and found my mother talking to my sister Ella, “A lady must always carry herself with dignity. You are representing this family, and slouching like a street urchin is unacceptable.” Ella sighed but straightened her back. As much as I hated these events, I had to admit there was a certain satisfaction in watching someone else endure my mother’s relentless lessons in dignity.“You’re going to have to save her eventually,” Amara whispered, leaning in close.“Not tonight,” I replied, smirking. I glanced acro

“The Devil’s greatest trick isn’t making you sin—it’s making you crave it.”The ride home was a blur. I sat at the back of the car, and watched as the city lights flickered past us. All I could think of was Dante Romano. The Devil. His touch still burned on my skin. I could still hear him “You’re mine...” as if I belong to no one. No, I’m not his. I’ll never be his. But my body is saying otherwise, the memory of his hands on me and his lips against my neck sent a shiver down my spine straight to my pussy. I am so pissed which is why I didn’t even notice we were already at home. The car pulled up to the Moretti estate. Yes, I live in a mansion that feels more like a fancy cage.I stepped out, my heels clicking against the marble steps as I made my way inside. The house was quiet, the only sound was the soft hum of the chandelier above. I made my way to my room, my sanctuary. I was hit with fresh smell of roses thanks to the fresh bouquet on my nightstand. I’ve always loved roses that’s

"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

FlashbackAge 19Standing in the ruins of what had once been Salvatore "The Butcher" Bianchi's territory- a streach of Brooklyn docks where shipments disappeared, men turned up in the Hudson, and loyalty was bought with fear.Tonight, it would be mine.Bianchi’s men were on their knees, hands zip-tied behind their backs, their faces swollen from Enzo’s fists. The Butcher himself sat in a chair in the center, his once-immaculate suit now torn, his lip split."Last chance, Sal," I said, rolling my sleeves up to my elbows. "work for me or die?"Bianchi spat at my shoes. "You’re a fucking kid playing dress-up..."I didn't let him finish."As you wish" The sound of a switchblade flicking open was the last thing Bianchi heard before his scream tore through the warehouse.By dawn, the docks were mine.The Butcher’s men either swore loyalty or fed the fishes. The Russians backed off. The Irish renegotiated their deals. And for the first time, they didn’t say Don Romano’s son.They said Dante