Married To The devils Heir

Chapter 3 : The Devil’s Terms

Amira woke to silence. Not the comforting kind. The kind that made your skin crawl.

She was no longer in her wedding dress. Someone had changed her into a silk nightgown, and that someone wasn’t her. The memory of Lucien carrying her across the marble threshold played back in her head like a twisted lullaby. She’d passed out in his arms from shock, and now, she was in a stranger’s bedroom—his bedroom.

The room was large, dimly lit by the morning light bleeding through the sheer curtains. Everything screamed wealth: the velvet headboard, the Persian rug beneath her bare feet, the untouched stack of leather-bound books on the nightstand.

She stepped out slowly, her heartbeat loud in her ears.

In the hallway, two guards nodded at her. She didn’t ask where she was going—what was the point? She was a guest in a cage, even if the cage was gilded.

Downstairs, she found him.

Lucien sat at the head of a long dining table, dressed in a dark shirt with sleeves rolled up, revealing the tattoo that wound around his left forearm like smoke. He didn’t look up as she walked in.

“Sit,” he said.

She stood instead.

“I want to leave.”

He set down his fork, finally meeting her eyes. “You are not a prisoner, Amira. But you are my wife now. And wives don’t leave.”

She crossed her arms. “You forced that marriage.”

He stood slowly, the scrape of his chair against the floor making her flinch. “Your father agreed to the terms. That makes it binding. And in my world, binding means permanent.”

She blinked. “Your world?”

Lucien stepped closer, his voice low. “You married into the mafia, princess. That ring on your finger? It's not a promise. It’s a warning.”

Her breath caught, but she refused to back down.

He circled her like a predator deciding how best to break its prey. “You’ll stay here. You'll attend public functions when I say. You’ll keep your mouth shut about my business. And in return, I’ll keep you alive.”

She laughed bitterly. “That’s your version of marriage?”

“No,” he said. “That’s mercy.”

He walked past her, leaving the weight of his words hanging in the air.

Alone again, Amira sank into a chair, trembling.

She wasn't just married to a stranger. She was married to power. To danger. To a man people feared for a reason.

And if she wanted to survive, she’d have to learn how to play the game.

Starting now.