All Chapters of Bound To The Devil's contract : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

The first thing I thought about when I woke up wasn’t him. It was Leo. Ten days behind iron gates and marble walls and I hadn’t heard my brother’s voice once. I didn’t know if he was eating. If he was scared. If he thought I’d abandoned him. That hurt worse than the contract. Worse than the ring on my finger. I found Mrs. Bellini in the sitting room, folding towels like nothing was wrong. “Can I ask you something?” She looked up and smiled. “Of course.” “I want to see Leo.” Her hands stopped. “I’m afraid that’s something only the Don can approve.” I stared at her. “So I need his permission to see my own brother?” She lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry.” Right. Sorry didn’t open gates. I spent the rest of the day pacing. Checking windows. Listening for cars. The house was too quiet. Too perfect. Like I was the only real thing in it. He came home just before sunset. I heard the doors first. Then the shift in the air. The staff moving faster. “The Don is home.”

The lock clicked at 6am.Leo didn’t move. "If it’s food, leave it.""It isn’t."Marco.Leo opened his eyes anyway because ignoring him felt more dangerous than looking. Marco walked in without knocking, charcoal suit hugging every hard line of his body, black shirt unbuttoned just enough at the collar to show the sharp cut of his collarbones. He dropped the folder on the table, shrugged off his jacket, and rolled his sleeves up slowly, exposing thick, veined forearms."What is that.""Work.""Why is it in here.""Because I’m working in here today." Marco’s voice was low, calm, and final. He pulled out the armchair and sat, thighs spreading wide as he claimed the space like he owned it. Like he owned *everything* in it.Leo sat up slowly, the sheet slipping down his bare chest. "...You’re joking.""No.""So I’m what, your office now.""For now." Marco’s dark eyes flicked over Leo’s torso for a beat too long before returning to the folder.Leo stared at him, heat already crawling unde

The rain hit the black sedan in sheets, sliding down the tinted windows in slow lines. Manhattan blurred past in gold and wet concrete. Marco sat in the back, one hand resting on the leather armrest like it belonged there. The other hand turned Dante Alighieri’s card over and over between his fingers. Black stock. Heavy. No address. Just a name, and a time. A restaurant every family in New York knew and none of them owned. Neutral ground. Which meant it wasn’t neutral at all. Enzo’s eyes flicked up to the rearview. “You want us inside with you, Boss?” Marco didn’t look up. “If Dante wanted me dead, he’d have sent a bullet, not a card.” “Yeah,” Enzo said, “and if it’s a trap, he’ll send both.” That pulled a faint smile out of Marco. He slid the card into his inner pocket. “Then it’ll be an expensive mistake for him.” Enzo didn’t smile back. He just nodded and kept driving. The car slowed in front of _Bella Notte_. The lights were off. The valet stand was empty. The

The Rossi estate had never been this quiet. Not peaceful. Controlled. Every guard stood at attention. Every servant kept their eyes on the floor. No one spoke above a whisper. Because everyone knew. The Boss was angry. I felt it the second I came downstairs. The air was heavy. Like right before a storm. I’d only wanted coffee. Instead I found myself frozen on the second floor balcony, looking down into the security room through the glass. Six captains stood in a circle around the table. Marco was in the center. He hadn’t spoken yet. In the middle of the table sat one thing. A silver cufflink. Mine. "We've checked every camera," Enzo said. He looked like he hadn't slept. "Nothing." Marco didn't answer. "The north wall wasn't breached," Enz

The estate didn’t look like a home tonight. It looked like a war zone pretending to be one. By six the circular driveway was full of black SUVs. Guards at every door. Men with earpieces moving through the halls in pairs, talking too quiet to hear. I stood at the top of the stairs and watched it all. Mrs. Bellini came up behind me with my dress. Dark emerald. Sleeveless. The kind of thing I never would’ve bought for myself. “Is it always like this?” I asked. “No,” she said, helping me with the zipper. “Then what’s different?” Her hands paused. “The Don doesn’t trust tonight.” That should’ve scared me. It didn’t. Not with Dante downstairs. He was waiting in the foyer. Black suit. White shirt. Black tie. Hair combed back but still messy like he’d run his hands through it ten times already. He looked up when I hit the last step and for half a second his expression did something I’d never seen before. Something soft. Then it was gone. “You ready?” he asked.