"I'll pay you back," she said quickly. "Every penny. I promise. I'll work ten jobs if I have to."
He arched a brow.
"I mean it."
"Oh, I know you do. You will pay me back."
His gaze dropped briefly to her mouth. When he spoke again, his voice was a blade.
"I intend to collect," he said softly. "I intend to collect your very soul, Bambola."
"I own your breathing," he continued. "Your living. I own your air, your body. I own your existence."
"Because as of this moment," he finished, his voice dropping to a whisper meant only for her, "pizza girl… you belong to the devil."
"The devil?"
Luca's lips twitched, the barest ghost of a smirk forming. He had been waiting for this moment since she had stumbled into his office with that ridiculous pizza box in her hands, eyes bright and naive, unaware of the chaos swirling around her.
"Yes, Bambola," he said finally. "I am the devil."
