Semua Bab Submitting To The Devil - The Devil's Snare - Book Two : Bab 41 - Bab 50

Bianca Our conversation had me tripping. Niko's words confounded me but also resonated with a version of myself deep inside, making me wonder if I could truly find happiness with him, considering he's already willing to become my protector. Dimitri's words play over and over in my mind. His assumption that Niko was a gift over a burden had me staring at Niko in disbelief. I'm sure my mouth was hanging open, my jaw touching the floor. My face must have been a vision, not that Niko mentioned anything or pointed it out. The flight to Europe, Italy, Cantazaro, to be exact, was turbulent yet short. I hate flying, the insecurity that a flight brings you, the uncertainty of your future the whole time you're in the air. So the moment we touched down, I sighed a breath of relief. But that also left me wondering what the hell I should be doing now. The pilot and her co-pilot left the aircraft, walking down the steps onto the tarmac while Niko and I remained sitting in the chairs. He had

Niko By the end of the day, with moonlight guiding us out of the plane and into the awaiting car, Bianca and I have found some common ground to make our journey easier. I guide her into the back seat, nodding to Dimitri's men as they load a handful of shopping bags into the boot in a quiet manner. Nothing is said, but I presume that's Dimitri's doing. His driver takes us through the mainland and over to the docks, where a boat waits for us. Bianca has long since fallen asleep against my shoulder, the skirt of her dress acting as a blanket between us. I'm roasting, but I have no choice but to sit as still as possible as I'm what you call nap-trapped. I think over the day, the lacklustre ceremony and the complete absence of an after-party. We didn't even get to sit down for the planned meal, nor did we get to the speeches, which, of course, I was looking forward to, considering Mass was the one to be giving us a speech. Honestly, what did he come up with, considering our rel

Bianca Niko has to carry me out of the boat because the sailor refuses to dock the boat on the beach, leaving us with no choice but to climb into the shallow water to access the beach before us. Three trips, and we're left on the sand as the boat fires up. We watch it disappear into the late-night darkness, which pulls at something deep in my soul. Silence carries us as we're essentially abandoned here on this island, and I scream internally at the unknown surrounding us. I'm the first to move, turning to stare up at the beachside house that tops even Luca's country house. It's grand in size, basically, all glass, as the rooms look out over the sea behind me. There is no privacy, and you can see the furnishings inside the home from here. It's beautifully surrounded by flowers and foliage, and if it were any other day than today, I might have been just a little excited to be here in the middle of nowhere, where the world couldn't touch me. "Did he happen to give you a key?

Niko As defiant as ever, Bianca attempts to slip her wedding gown down her arms to play with me. Luckily for her, I'm more than willing to play the cat to her mouse. I race to her side, stopping her from undressing from the garment made to wrap a bride up for their groom. In our culture, the whole meaning of a wedding gown is to present her to her awaiting husband as the pure second half of him. That is why they usually only dress in white. Bianca broke that silent rule with the red, but I love it. It's very much her. A wedding night is the first time a man supposedly has a claim to her. He unwraps his gift to reveal the natural beauty below before finishing up with his unspoken vows. "That's a husband's job," I note, stroking her now bare skin on her shoulder. A look transpires between us, and I can't quite decipher what it means. Does Bianca want me as I want her? Or am I reading into emotions that don't truly belong between us? The sexual tension has been palpable for the las

Bianca So Niko can cook, and he's more than comfortable moving around the kitchen like some bronzed god capable of doing even the most mundane task. I went into the kitchen with the intent of hashing out plans for our future marriage. My mind was whirling upstairs after he touched me, when for a moment I begged internally for him to lean down to kiss me, and when he didn't, I felt so crushed, I knew I couldn't let him touch me like that again. I couldn't give myself to him like that, not if I wanted any chance of escaping this marriage, the spoken contract I've seemingly fallen into with the Moretta's and most importantly my insanity. I should have run back on the plane. I should have taken the opportunity that arose with both hands and run as far away as I possibly could. And yet I didn't; I stayed. And now I'm regretting passing up the chance of freedom to stay loyal to a man who, if given half the chance, will destroy me from the inside out. We eat in tense silence, the only