Bella's POV
As soon as The Devil laid his claim on me, I was pulled off the stage by two towering men, their grip firm but not unbreakable. My wrists were still bound, and so were my legs, walking awkwardly as they pulled me forward.
I gritted my teeth, eyes locked on the infamously untouchable mafia king, "At least untie my legs," I snapped. "wouldn't want scratches on your precious goods now, would you?" I taunted.
He didn't even look at me. "What a d**k," I muttered—loud enough for him to hear. But that got his attention. He turned, taking a long, slow, deliberate stride toward me. His eyes burned into mine, molten gold swirling with something far more dangerous than anger, it was dark and lethal. And for the first time since this nightmare began, fear sank its claws into me.
"Loosen her legs," He ordered coldly. "But Keep her hands chained."
Then, just as swiftly, he turned and disappeared into the shadows. I exhaled the breath I didn't realize I was holding, my heart pounding against my ribs.
They led me through a dimly lit hallway, unfamiliar but no less sinister. Rooms lined the corridor—thick doors, all shut. I didn't want to imagine what was behind them. I had to come up with a plan to escape his clutch.
A heavy-set guard stood by one of the doors barely glancing at my direction. Perfect, no one saw me as a threat.
That was their first mistake.
The second mistake? The knife was tucked in the belt of the man to my left.
I stumbled deliberately, letting out a soft whimper.
"Damn it" one of them muttered, loosening his grip just enough.
In a swift movement, I twisted, lifting my arms over his. Shifting my weight onto my left foot. My right leg snapped out, striking his knee, and a sickening crack followed. He went down grunting. Before the secound guard could react, I ripped the knife and keys from the fallen guard's belt, spun, and slashed across the other's arm. Blood sprayed as He howled.
Quickly I bolted.
My bare feet slapped against the cold floor as I sprinted down the corridor. My breath came hard and fast. My thin gown whipped around my legs. I didn't look back. I had seconds before they raised the alarm. Before someone stronger and crueler comes for me.
A door—slightly ajar. I slipped inside, no locks I slammed the door shut, quickly unlocked the chains, massaging my sore wrists. I pressed myself against the wall, sinking into the shadows hoping this was a nightmare that I soon wake up from, my pulse thundered in my ears. I had to quiet my breathing, to think. There had to be a way out. A window. A vent, anything.
I thought I was safe for now but I thought wrong. "You don't run away from the devil. He always finds you." Heavy footsteps echoed. Fast and calculated. Shadows flickering just outside the door. Then silence.
When the devil's voice broke through the closed door, " I see we have a little mouse running loose." Shit.
Every hair on my arm rose. I didn't move. Didn't breathe. Slowly, I turned my head. As the door made a slow creaking noise. And there he was.
Alessandro de Luca— the devil himself—Leaning against the doorframe like he had all the time in the world. The flickering light cast sharp shadows across his face, making the gold in his eyes gleam like that of a predator sniffing out its prey.
His lips curved into a slow smirk. "How the hell did he know I was here?"
My fingers tightened around the knife. Holding it, ready to swing. "Careful, little mouse." He murmured, stepping into the room, slow and steady. "Holding a weapon at me is a dangerous game, One you don't want to play."
I raised my chin, matching his gaze. "Then don't come any closer. Amusement flickers across his face. He took another step, deliberately, confidence oozing from his movement—like he already knew how this would end.
In a flick of an eye, the distance between us vanishes too fast. He moved before I could react. His hands wrapped around my wrist, twisting just enough to force the knife from my grip. I gasped as my back slammed into the wall. Cold against my spine and the Heat radiating from him.
His body caged me in—danger wrapped in tailored perfection. He smelled like spice and smoke— His gaze sparkled with something twisted, like a child who just unwrapped a forbidden gift. My mind screamed, bipolar much?
"Feisty," he whispered, warm breath brushing my temple, " I like that." I fought against his grip, but he didn't budge nor didn't his grip falter. His fingers trailed down, slow and deliberate, tracing the curve of my face.
"You smell like roses" he murmured, inhaling my scent. "So delicate. But underneath—" His lips brushed my ear. "You're all thorns, aren't you?"
A Shivers ran through me, and I hated that he noticed. His other hand—rough, warm—slid to my throat, not squeezing, just resting. His thumb traced my pulse. Slow and sinister. A silent warning.
My stomach clenched. I didn't want to feel anything, not fear. Not the heat curling low in my belly. But Alessandro De Luca was the kind of man that made you feel— And he knew it.
His smirk deepened. "I can feel you trembling Bella." His other hand going further, sliding down my body, the thin cloth doing little to keep the barrier, and every where he touched left warm tingles.
"I hate you," I hissed,but hating myself more for feeling like this. He chuckled, "Hate is good," he murmured. "Hate keeps things interesting."
Then His expression changed. Gone was the amusement. In its place something darker. Another version of him. A mask peeled back. His fingers tightened—cutting off just enough air to make my head spin.
His lips brushed my ears, venom dripping from every word. " Listen carefully, little mouse. His grip tightened pressing hard till I felt dizzy, "Run again," he growled. "and next time, I won't be so forgiving."
Then His hands slid down, ghosting over my collarbone, before he completely let go.I gasped, sucking in long deep breaths, my skin burned where he had touched me.
He stepped back, watching me and Smiling. He's definitely Bipolar.
Without warning, again he reached out again, making me back up on the wall, thinking if he was going to finish the job. And relieve me of this nightmare. But, rather he trailed a single finger down my lips—jaw—and neck, stopping right at my beating pulse.
" You belong to me Rosa Mia," he said, making it sink deep I was nothing but his property. "And I do not take kindly to losing what's mine." And just like that, He turned and walked away without another word, leaving me pressed against the wall—
Breathless.
Furious.
Utterly trapped and irrevocably fucked.