Claiming The Devil’s Wife

Ch 002: The Black Card

~ALESSIA~

———

It has been a week since Nico Rossi was assigned as my personal bodyguard. A whole damn week. And even though I try to act like it doesn’t bother me, it does.

I hate the arrangement. But as always, I have no say. It is clearly just another part of Alessandro’s never-ending control over me.

And somehow, that anger shifts to Nico too. It isn’t fair, but I don’t care. He works for my husband. He follows his orders. That makes him part of the problem. Even if he is unfairly, frustratingly attractive.

He goes wherever I go. If I walk into the garden, he is right there. If I step into the library, he follows. He is even allowed inside my private suite. My personal space in this mansion!

The only time I get a break is at night when I have to lock the doors and go to bed.

Fed up with the whole bloody arrangement, I storm into Alessandro’s study. He is at his desk, signing papers.

“As much as I hate this whole plan, I’m not saying that I’m completely against the idea of having a bodyguard,” I begin, standing stiffly in front of his desk, arms crossed. “But having him follow me everywhere, even into my suite? Are you planning to have us live together like we’re the married ones, while you and I barely share a hallway, let alone a bed?”

Without even looking up, he replies dryly,

“Sounds like a smart idea to me. You have two bedrooms in there. Let him take one. That way, he can keep a proper eye on you.”

My heart burns with rage. I shake my head, biting the inside of my cheek to stop the tears from coming. I will not cry in front of this man. I refuse to let Alessandro see what he is doing to me.

“Are you serious right now?” I ask, my voice tight. But he is as nonchalant as always, and just keeps flipping through files as though I am some background noise.

“What exactly are you protecting me from?” I snap, stepping closer. “What are you so scared of?!”

His hand pauses mid-signature. Slowly, he raises his gaze to meet mine. That same cold, indifferent stare. A dark little smile pulls at his lips.

“Let’s see…” he says lazily. “Your college sweetheart. What’s his name again?” He taps a finger on the desk, pretending to think. “Bradley, right?”

I stiffen.

“Yes. Bradley.” That smile deepens, cruel and amused. “The foolish Romeo who tried to crash our wedding. The one I made sure was… handled. My men taught him a lesson he’ll never forget. Ran off like a scared dog, didn’t he?”

My hands curl into fists at my sides. I can still remember the way Alessandro’s men had dragged Bradley away, bruised and bleeding. Bradley had disappeared after, changed his number, and vanished without a trace.

I haven’t been able to forgive myself for all he went through for my sake.

“Yeah.” Alessandro leans back in his chair, still smirking. “Well, word is, he’s back in the country. So before you go making more stupid decisions and getting ideas, I figured Nico should keep an eye on you. Make sure history doesn’t repeat itself.”

I stare at him, stunned. I feel a knot in my stomach.

Bradley… is back?

And he didn’t try to reach out? Not even a text?

“Let’s talk later, honey. As you can see, I’m busy.” Alessandro says, waving me away as he buries his head back in paperwork.

Anger and hurt close my throat. I turn on my heel and storm out.

A few steps down the hall, Nico is waiting, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over that perfectly built chest. The moment I advance closer, he straightens.

“Ready to go to that all‑girls reunion you mentioned?” He asks.

I sweep past him. “Do I look underdressed to you?”

He chuckles softly and follows. I hate how that sound makes my heart skip.

Outside, he opens the rear door of the black Lexus LS 430. I slide in, and he climbs into the driver’s seat.

We roll out of the driveway and hit the road at once. My mind race with thoughts of Bradley. He is back in the country, yet hasn’t reached out. Is he angry at me? Does he hate me now?

Bradley is my first love. And maybe I was selfish to have fallen for him even when I knew that mafias and commoners barely mingled romantically. At the end, I shattered both of our hearts.

The car slow beside a sleek modern apartment building only a few minutes later. I peer through the tinted window, confused.

“Sorry,” Nico says, pulling into a parking spot. “I need to grab my ID from my place. Just a minute.”

I narrow my eyes. “And how do I know you’re not kidnapping me?”

He laughs. “Exactly why you’ll stay here. I’ll be quick. A maximum of five minutes.”

I press my lips together.

“Five minutes is plenty of time for a smoke away from the car.” I dig into my purse, pulling out a slim cigar and lighter, then step out. He follows, closing his door.

I light the cigar and watch him from the corner of my eye. He raises an eyebrow.

“My husband hates it when I smoke. Especially near his car or his home. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Do whatever you like, Mrs. Mancini.” He replies with that crooked, irresistible smirk.

Inside his building, I go first, Nico behind me. The lobby is quiet and refined, marble floors and gentle lighting. We ride the elevator to the top floor.

His apartment door opens to a perfect view of the city. Clean lines, soft light, and art everywhere. I walk over to a provocative oil painting of a naked couple locked in a slow, intense missionary s*x.

“Art collector?” I ask, lifting the canvas.

“I painted it myself.” He replies over his shoulder as he drifts into his bedroom

My smile, impressed. “You did?”

“Yep.” He answers from inside.

I linger a moment longer, then let the painting drop back in place. I pace the living room, smoking, drinking in his taste.

In the process of admiring his space, I bump into a stack of files on a coffee table. They tumble to the floor.

“Shit.” I mutter, crouching to gather them.

One falls open to reveal a sleek black business card. I read it.

NICO ROSSI

PLEASURE ESCORT

EX‑PROFESSIONAL ADULT ACTOR

I blink, my breath pausing momentarily. Pleasure escort? Adult actor?

My skin suddenly feels hot, pulsing with a mix of shock and intrigue.

Just then, deep, amused, honeyed voice cut through my thoughts from above me.

“Didn’t anyone teach you not to snoop, Mrs. Mancini?”

I freeze, my chest tightening. Slowly, I look up.

Nico stands over me, towering, that dark half‑smile playing on his lips.