All Chapters of Bound to the Devil I Wed: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Luca's eyes shifted from his mother's tomb to Camilla's face. Then to Elena's. He seemed to take in the distance between them, the tension in Adriana's shoulders, and arrive at his own conclusion without requiring explanation. "How kind of you," he said to Camilla. It was impossible to tell whether he meant it. Camilla either could not or would not tell. "I try." Luca ignored that and stepped forward to the tomb. For a moment none of them moved. He rested two fingers lightly against the edge of the marble, head bowed not quite enough to be prayer but enough to be remembered. The gesture was small. Intimate. Entirely unlike the ruthless man Elena had seen only in controlled fragments. Something about it moved her more than she wanted. Because tenderness always did when found in unexpected places. When he straightened, Adriana said, "I thought it was right she come here before the wedding." Luca's gaze slid to Elena. "Why?" The bluntness of the question might have embarrassed

The night before the wedding, Elena dreamed of bells. Not the bright pealing bells from childhood fairy tales, not the warm, jubilant kind that announced joy to a waiting town. These were distant, hollow things, tolling through fog. Mourning bells disguised as wedding ones. She woke before dawn with wetness on her cheeks and did not remember crying. For a long moment she lay still beneath the covers, staring into the blue-gray dark of her room while the house remained half asleep around her. Somewhere down the corridor, a servant's footsteps passed softly over the runner. Pipes murmured behind the walls. Wind pressed faintly against the windows. Tomorrow, she thought. Tomorrow she would become Luca De Santis's wife. The words still did not feel real. They felt like lines read aloud from someone else's fate. Rosa found her awake when she entered with hot water and fresh linens. "You should sleep another hour if you can." Elena pushed herself upright. "I don't think sleep wants

In a single second he changed. Every hint of private conversation vanished. His posture sharpened; his gaze went flat and lethal. It was like watching a man become a weapon without moving at all. The door opened hard. One of his men stepped inside, breath taut. "Boss." Russian spilled out next, fast and clipped. "U nas problema. Odin iz lyudey Moretti peredaval informatsiyu naruzhu." [We have a problem. One of Moretti's men was passing information outside.] Elena went cold. Luca did not even blink. "Komu?" [To whom?] "Ne znayem. No my vzyali ego u zadnego kryla." [We don't know. But we took him near the back wing.] Luca's gaze flicked once to Elena, then back to his man. "Zhdi." [Wait.] He turned to her. Something about the terrible calm in his face made her blood run colder than panic would have. "Stay here." Elena rose halfway from the chair. "What happened?" "A leak." The word was simple. Deadly. He moved to the door, then paused long enough to look back at her. "If

The day of Elena's wedding dawned bright, cloudless, and cruel. Sunlight poured through the windows in long golden sheets, touching the polished floors, the flower arrangements, the silver trays laid out in anticipation of guests. The Moretti estate had dressed itself for beauty. White roses crowded every banister. Ribbons gleamed. Crystal chandeliers cast clean morning light in a hundred fractured sparks. It looked, Elena thought, like a dream. The kind that belonged to someone else. She had not slept more than an hour in total. Each time she closed her eyes she saw the courtyard again - the kneeling guard, Luca's pistol, the clean terrible finality of death carried out by a man who did not need rage to kill. By dawn she had given up trying to rest at all. Rosa found her already awake, seated at the window in her robe with her hands folded in her lap. For a moment Rosa said nothing. Then she crossed the room quietly and set down the tea tray she carried. "I brought ch

The reception blurred. People congratulated them with smiling mouths and watchful eyes. Champagne flowed. Cameras flashed. Luca remained beside her when necessary and away from her when he could manage it without public insult. He touched her only when etiquette demanded it - at the small of her back to guide her through a cluster of guests, at her hand during the first public toast, once more at her elbow when an elderly bishop held them too long in conversation. Each time, the touch was efficient. Brief. Never affectionate. Camilla appeared halfway through the luncheon in a fitted emerald dress and a smile sharp enough to cut glass. She was at Adriana's side, close enough to claim place without officially having one. Elena saw the way her eyes tracked Luca and understood immediately that this was not infatuation born yesterday. This had roots. Adriana greeted Elena correctly enough, though with reserve. Camilla kissed the air near her cheek and said, "Congratulations," in a to