All Chapters of A CONTRACT FROM THE DEVIL: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Luca’s VisitMorning light filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, casting long golden beams across the polished marble floors. Elena stood at the expansive kitchen island, cradling a cup of coffee that had gone lukewarm in her hands. Sleep had been a distant stranger after last night. Every time she closed her eyes, the memory replayed: Sandro’s thumb pressing between her lips, the rough promise in his voice, the way his body had caged her against the wet bar without fully claiming her. Her own fingers had finished what he started, but the release had been hollow, leaving her aching for something only he could give.She wore a cream silk robe loosely tied over a matching slip, the fabric whispering against her skin with every small movement. Her hair was twisted up in a messy knot, a few strands escaping to frame her face. When Sandro entered the kitchen, freshly showered, the scent of his woodsy cologne mixed with the sharp aroma of coffee. He was dressed in

Valentina AppearsThe black gown clung to Elena’s body like a second skin, the deep V-neckline plunging just enough to draw eyes while the slit up one thigh promised danger. She stood before the mirror in the penthouse bedroom, still feeling the ghost of Sandro’s fingers from the closet floor hours earlier. Her core still ached, unresolved and sensitive, every shift of fabric a reminder of what he had denied her. The heavy diamond ring on her finger caught the light as she adjusted the diamond choker at her throat, a gift from him that felt more like a collar.Sandro appeared behind her in the reflection, devastating in a tailored midnight-black tuxedo. His hands settled on her hips, possessive as always, pulling her back against his chest. “You look like sin tonight, wife. Every man in that room will want what’s mine.”“Then why are we going?” she asked softly, meeting his eyes in the mirror.“Because they need to see you on my arm. The first big public appearance as Mrs. Rossi. Let

The First Real TestThe closet door flew open before Elena could hang up. Sandro stood there, shirtless and still damp from the shower, a towel slung low around his hips. His eyes locked onto the phone pressed to her ear, and the temperature in the room dropped instantly.“Elena?” Juliette’s voice crackled through the speaker. “Are you okay? Talk to me—”Sandro snatched the phone from her hand and ended the call with a sharp tap. He tossed it onto the bed behind him, never breaking eye contact. The silence that followed was heavier than any shout.“You were calling someone,” he said, voice dangerously low. “After everything.”Elena backed up instinctively, her bare feet silent on the thick carpet. “It was just Juliette. My friend. I needed—”“You needed to test me.” He advanced slowly, each step measured, like a predator who knew the cage was already closed. “I give you time, I hold you when you’re breaking, I make you come apart on my fingers… and the first chance you get, you try t

The PhotoElena’s hands wouldn’t stop shaking. She sat on the edge of the bed for what felt like hours, staring at the old photograph like it might burn her if she looked away. Her father’s familiar smile. Sandro’s younger face, sharper but already carrying that dangerous edge. The handwritten note on the back. Rossi family business. 2009.Everything felt poisoned now.When Sandro finally returned to the penthouse later that afternoon, she was waiting in his office, the torn red lingerie shoved back into its box and the photo clutched in her fist. He walked in still dressed in his crisp black shirt, sleeves rolled up, looking every bit the untouchable Don. The second he saw her face, his expression tightened.“Elena.”She didn’t waste time. She slapped the photo down on his desk, the sound sharp in the quiet room. “Explain this.”Sandro picked it up slowly, his dark eyes scanning the image. For a split second, something flickered across his face, recognition, maybe regret, but it vani

Public ClaimingThe Grand Ballroom glittered like a cage made of gold and crystal. Chandeliers dripped light over hundreds of the city’s elite, politicians, old-money heirs, and shadowed figures who moved money and power in equal measure. Elena stood at Sandro’s side in a backless emerald gown that clung to every curve, the fabric whispering against her still-tender skin with every step. The faint ache from his punishment the day before served as a constant, humiliating reminder. She wore it like a secret brand.Sandro’s hand rested possessively at the small of her back, thumb tracing slow, absent circles over bare skin as they navigated the crowd. He looked devastating in his tailored black tuxedo, the kind of man who made silence feel like a weapon. But tonight his attention kept drifting.Valentina Conti moved through the room like she owned it. Her crimson dress plunged dangerously low, and her laugh rang out sharp and practiced as she touched Sandro’s arm for the third time in t