Handsome Devil Movie Novels & Stories

the man spoke placing his hand on the hip as he directed his words at Dylan Parker who stood there with his eyes wide open. "No wonder he's called Hades" Those comments and whispers made the man smirk in victory. Amara just kept staring at the sudden arrival of the man dressed in clothes which were smeared with blood all over. Even though she's too shocked to watch the scene in front of her, she didn't fail to note the name of the devil who's still smirking with a gun in his hand. HADES OF THE MAFIA WORLD, DAMIAN KNIGHT!

But somehow, I always pictured a balding old man with a pot belly caused by the cheap whiskey he drowns himself in every night. But I couldn’t be more wrong. The devil isn’t horned or hideous. He’s tall, sculpted, and terrifyingly beautiful. Power clings to him like a second skin beneath the flawless cut of his suit. His face is sharp, symmetrical and too perfect to belong to someone mortal, too perfect for the blood he spills, too perfect for the cruelty he yields, and his icy blue eyes can bring even the bravest man to his knees. A cold prickling sensation erupts over my entire body like a thousand tiny needles stabbing my skin

I could scent their drugs, alcohol made from puffer fishes and stone fishes as well as their cigarettes that were coated with the skin of a specially tanned blue-ringed octopus hide. I faced the man I wanted to meet. He was a man who had been living under the sea for many years. The merpeople around called him the sea devil. On ordinary land he was just a man but in sea water, he could control anyone he wanted with the power of his deadly tongue. Anyone but the devil and royal blood. I wondered why he hadn't taken over Seareign yet. "We meet again, Lot." "That's the devil to you." There was a black mermaid behind him. She was smoking on a blue ring cigarette as black liquid escaped her mouth

His hair looked messy, but it added a hint of a boyish charm to him, making him look as handsome as the devil. Well, it was said that the devil is so handsome he could tempt you to sin with just his looks. His arms were wrapped around my waist, pulling me towards him in a firm hold. I blushed when I saw how my hands were also wrapped around him as if I were clinging to him for dear life. I sneakily tried to get out of bed and tried to lift his hand and get out of his embrace, but he was as firm as a rock, not bulging even a bit. I tried again, deciding to put in more strength and effort, but he still wouldn't bulge.

Suddenly, one of his men raised a gun to me and the other forcefully bent my head in a bow “No one dares to stare at the boss like that.” the gun holder said in a hoarse voice. “Release her.” Dante finally said in a cold and distant tone. The men turned to him. Had he just told them to release her? Dante would never let any offended go unpunished. That was against his rule and no matter the gender, the punishment was equal. I was surprised because I was expecting him to order his men to have me beaten up, or worse still, for my hand to be cut off.

Had he always been this selfish? My thoughts were immediately silenced when a new voice sliced through the clamor, calm, and utterly lethal. "One hundred million." The room fell silent. Even the auctioneer froze, gavel suspended mid-air. I forced my heavy eyelids open just long enough to see him. He stood at the very back, half-shrouded in shadow. Black suit tailored to perfection. Black mask concealing the upper half of his face. But that silhouette was unmistakable. Everyone in the mafia world knew it. The Devil. Carlos Hernandez. The man they called the Devil in Armani because he destroyed empires while looking like he had just stepped out of a Milan runway.

I quickly threw a robe over Isabella and grabbed her hand. "Come on, Belle! We have to move! Now!" "They found us..." Isabella whispered, terrified. I looked at her, my face set in stone. "They made a mistake coming here today. Because today... they will meet the real Devil." (To be continued...)

a deep voice commands. I turn. He walks in like he owns the place. Broad shoulders under a tailored black suit, dark eyes that slice through the chaos. His presence is heavier than the gunfire. Dante Morreti. I know that name. Whispers. Mafia. Blood. Power. The devil of New York. His gaze pins me in place. My chest tightens, breath shallow. “She’s the bride?” he asks, almost amused. “Yes, Boss,” one of his men answers. “Pretty little thing,” Dante murmurs, eyes raking me head to toe. “Shame she belongs to a coward.”

No humanity, just hunger. “You’re him,” she whispered. “The Devil of the Underworld.” He bowed his head slightly, a mockery of courtly manners. “Dante Moretti. Though most only whisper my name.” Her heart pounded. Dante Moretti wasn’t just a crime lord—he was a myth. A monster in a designer suit. A man with more blood on his hands than the war itself. Rumors said he didn’t age, didn’t bleed, didn’t sleep. That he struck deals in shadows, and those who betrayed him were never found again. Or if they were, it was in pieces.

"Forget the nonsense Salazar or anyone else has been feeding you. You're perfect the way you are and if I hear anything about you being on a diet again or trying to lose weight, heads will roll. Do you understand?" Maldito, I'm dazzled. For a moment there, the look in his eyes turned menacing and I finally caught a glimpse of the devil he hides behind that sexy body. I can totally picture him chopping a man up with a kitchen knife while smiling. That thought has moisture pooling between my legs and I squirm, trying to get some relief. Violence turns me on. He crosses the small space between us. Judging by how he's gotten in my face, I think he's finally going to take the initiative but he on