Bought by the devil

Trouble in paradise

It had been three days since the auction…three days since Dante Cross dragged her into his world of darkness, glass walls, cold marble and quiet dominance.

Three days since she’d stopped feeling like herself.

She’d counted each hour by the sound of the elevator doors sealing her inside. No one came. No one left. Except him. He’d vanish at dawn, return late at night, bringing the smell of gunpowder and power back into the apartment like a storm that wouldn’t pass.

He didn’t touch her. Not yet. That was the worst part.

He waited and the waiting burned more than any hand ever could.

Tonight the air felt different, heavier. The hum of the city below faded beneath the low thunder of her heart. She paced barefoot across the marble, every step echoing. The silk dress he’d chosen for her clung to her skin like a reminder that nothing she wore here belonged to her…not even her name anymore.

When the door clicked open, she froze.

Dante entered first black suit, damp hair, that lazy calm that made her skin prickle. But he wasn’t alone. Another man followed. Tall. Broad. His gaze slid over her too easily.

“Elena,” Dante said, loosening his cufflinks. “This is Luca.”

The man smiled. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

She hated how his eyes lingered. “I can’t imagine from who.”

Dante’s glance was sharp enough to slice. “Watch your tone.”

Her jaw tightened. “Or what? You’ll add it to the list of things you think you own?”

Luca chuckled softly turning to Dante “She’s got a mean mouth. I like her.” Nodding as if I’m approval.

The air snapped. In a blink Dante’s hand was at Luca’s throat, shoving him back against the wall.

“Don’t.” His voice was low, quiet enough to freeze the room. “She’s not yours to like.”

Luca didn’t move, though the smirk faltered. “Understood.”

Elena stood still, every nerve alive. The sound of her heartbeat filled the silence.

When Dante finally let him go, she saw it the flicker of something beneath his control. Possessive. Dangerous. The kind of hunger that didn’t end with just ownership.

Luca straightened his collar and mumbled something under his breath before leaving the room.

The door shut.

Dante turned to her.

“Why do you keep pushing me?”

She laughed bitterly. “Because you keep pretending you haven’t already won.”

His jaw clenched. “You think this is about winning?” He stepped closer until her back met the cool glass of the window. “No, Elena. This is about reminding you that even fire bends if it burns long enough.”

Her breath hitched. He was too close, heat and restraint wrapped in the same body. The rain outside streaked the glass behind her.

“You’re trembling again,” he murmured.

“I’m angry,” she said, but it sounded like a lie even to her.

He tilted his head, eyes searching hers, finding the fear she tried so hard to bury. “You keep saying you hate me,” he said softly, “but every time I come near, you forget how to breathe.”

Her throat worked. “You’re imagining things.”

“Am I tho?” His fingers brushed the edge of her jaw barely a touch, but it sent a shiver down her spine. “You can lie to yourself all you want, Elena. But your body already knows who it belongs to.”

She slapped his hand away, heart pounding, eyes bright with fury. “You don’t own me”

For a moment, silence again…then came his smile,dark and dangerous.

“We’ll see.”

He turned, leaving her shaking against the glass.

She didn’t sleep that night. She couldn’t.

Hours later, sometime past midnight, she heard a sound soft metal on metal, near the door. She pushed off the bed, pulse racing. The penthouse was still, lights dimmed to a warm amber. She slipped from the sheets and padded quietly toward the hall.

Another click.

It wasn’t Dante. She could feel that. She’d have smelt him.

Her fingers brushed the nearest object she could find…a heavy glass ornament from the nightstand and she raised it just as the lock slid open.

The door creaked.

A man stepped in, dressed in black, a pistol glinting faintly under the light. Not Luca. Someone else. Definitely not someone she’s ever seen,not even around Dante.

For a second, they both froze.

Then his voice…cold, rough, certain.

“Don’t scream. I’m here for Dante Cross.”

Elena’s breath caught, the glass still raised in her trembling hand.

“Who sent you?” she whispered.

His eyes flicked toward her, expression unreadable. “Someone who wants him dead.”

Elena knew he had enemies,thousands of them and she wanted to ask. Wanted to know what he did to deserve death. But she didn’t,If she’s had the chance to she’d have killed him herself these past three days.

She stepped forward and a single gunshot split the silence

…but it wasn’t clear who pulled the trigger.

The sound of a gunshot cut through the night.

Dante was halfway up the private elevator when he heard it…one sharp, clean c***k that didn’t belong in his world unless it came from his hand.

The elevator doors hadn’t even finished sliding open before he was out, gun drawn with the cold precision he’d spent a lifetime perfecting.

He moved through the penthouse in silence, the soft click of his shoes on marble the only sound. Then…movement.

Elena! The thought of her in danger sent a surge of adrenaline through his body.

She stood in the hall, wild-eyed, hair a dark halo around her face, chest rising and falling in quick, terrified bursts. Behind her, a body lay sprawled near the doorway…the intruder’s. Blood spread slow and dark beneath him like spilled wine.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then she dropped the gun. His gun.

It hit the floor with a metallic thud, and something in his chest tightened.

“What the hell did you do?” His voice came out low, rougher than he intended.

Her lips trembled, but her chin lifted. “He was going to shoot you. Said he was here to kill you.”

The words cut through him. She wasn’t lying.

He holstered the weapon and crouched beside the body, fingers brushing the man’s jacket, searching for a mark, a clue, anything. He found a tattoo on the inside of the wrist a serpent coiled around a dagger. His jaw locked.

Valerio’s men.

Of course.

He stood, his gaze snapping back to her. “Next time,” he said, voice quiet but lethal, “you hide. You don’t play hero. You find somewhere safe and hide until I return.”

Her eyes flashed with terror. “Next time? You make it sound like this is normal.”

“It is,” he said simply. “In my world,this is pretty normal”

She took a shaky breath, her hands still trembling. “Then I don’t want your world. I do not want to be in your world Dante.” For a second it felt like she had a choice.

He stared at her for a long moment, light flickering across her skin. “You don’t get to want, Elena. You get to survive. And you just made sure I did.”

Her throat worked as she swallowed, her voice small but defiant. “Don’t thank me. I didn’t do it for you.” She said rolling her eyes at him lazily.

His mouth curved faintly. “Then who did you do it for?”

She hesitated. “For me. Because I didn’t want his blood on my hands for standing still.”

He almost smiled. Almost. There it was that fire he couldn’t seem to extinguish no matter how hard he tried. The same fire that made him spend fifty million to own her when he’d sworn he’d never touch another piece of the Vale empire ever again.

But something about her burned too bright to ignore. Too fierce to just let slip yo another.

He stepped closer, slow, deliberate, until her back hit the wall again. “You shouldn’t have touched my gun.”

“You left it on the table,” she whispered.

“I don’t leave things unattended,Elena.” he said. “You stole it.”

“Maybe I did.”

He studied her, head tilted slightly. Fear still lingered in her eyes, but beneath it…adrenaline, defiance, that dangerous spark of power she didn’t even know she had…or perhaps she did,maybe this soft weak girl was just a front.

He reached up, brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. “You’re shaking.”

“So are you.” She retorted back.

He laughed softly under his breath. “Maybe we both are. Difference is, I know how to hide it.”

Her pulse flickered at her throat. His hand dropped, lingering a heartbeat longer than it should have.

“Go upstairs,” he said finally. “Now.” He commanded.

“I’m not a child, Dante. You can’t just order me around.” She said with a frown.

“No,” he murmured, voice dropping to something darker, something that made her breath catch, “you’re not.”

The words hung between them, thick and charged.

He tore his gaze away before he did something reckless. By the time she disappeared down the hallway, his phone buzzed. He didn’t need to check the name to know who it was.

“Tell me it’s not what I think,” he said into the receiver.

Luca’s voice came through, tense. “Valerio’s men hit two of our safe houses tonight. That one in the North End was supposed to be off grid.”

“It isn’t anymore,” Dante said flatly. His eyes flicked back to the body. “And they sent someone here. For me.”

“s**t,” Luca breathed. “You want me to clean it up?”

“Already done. But send someone to dispose of the body quietly. No press, no cops, no drama.”

He hung up before Luca could answer.

Then he turned toward the faint sound of footsteps upstairs. He went after her, Elena hadn’t closed her door fully. He could see the outline of her through the c***k sitting on the edge of the bed, head in her hands.

He should leave her. He knew that. She was just leverage, collateral, a loose end in a world that didn’t tolerate softness.

But something about the way she’d held that gun…hands trembling but eyes steady…wouldn’t leave him. She seemed used to it in a strange way,a novice wouldn’t handle a gun like that.

He’d seen women scream, beg, break. She hadn’t done any of those.

She’d fought.

And she’d killed.

For him. Because of him.

He leaned against the doorframe, watching her through the half open gap. The shadows of her shoulders trembled under the city’s light.

He should’ve felt anger. He felt something else.

A slow, unwelcome pull in his chest.

He’d bought her to break her.

Now he wasn’t sure who was unraveling first.his phone lit again one new message from Luca. “Valerio’s not after you anymore, boss. Word is, he wants her.”

Dante froze.

Then the screen dimmed, and in the silence that followed, he whispered the truth he’d never meant to feel…

“She’s already mine Valerio.” And his,she was.