THE BLACK DEVIL
1857 Words
Selene's POV
“Well,” Matteo muttered, his gaze sweeping across Dante De Luca’s suite. “This is going to be a problem.”
It felt like the air just got colder.
My father marched in next—pure, dangerous anger twisting his face. The two Moretti guards flanked him, with Matteo Vescovi at the rear, crisp in a suit that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe.
Matteo looked flawless.
Me? I looked like hell—barefoot, dress wrinkled, hair a mess.
His eyes found the mess first. My wrinkled dress, then my bare legs—and at last, Dante behind me.
There was something sharp in Matteo’s stare.
It wasn’t heartbreak.
It was ownership.
My stomach flipped.
“Dad—”
“Don’t.” My father’s voice knifed right through mine. “Not one word.”
I closed my mouth.
Not out of respect. I just knew that tone—and I hated it. It meant pain was right around the corner.
Matteo stepped further into the suite, glancing around like he was examining evidence.
“Interesting place,” he said, all careless charm.
Dante just leaned on the bar, like he had nowhere better to be.
“It’s got enough exits.”
Dead silence. No smiles.
Right then, I got it—why everyone always said men like these were wolves.
Because you could almost smell the violence simmering under their suits.
My father pinned me with that cold, disgusted look.
“You humiliated this family.”
I just stared.
That was the first thing out of his mouth?
No “Are you okay?” No “Were you hurt?” Not even “What happened?”
Nope.
Just reputation.
That was all he ever cared about.
Something in my chest splintered.
“I didn’t ask for this.”
“Yet here you are.” His eyes swept over me, hard and ugly. “In another man’s bed.”
My neck burned hot.
Matteo snorted under his breath.
I wanted to slap him.
Dante finally spoke up, voice easy and bland. “She wasn’t in that bed alone.”
Every face turned.
He stayed lazy and calm, but the room’s fuse just got shorter.
My father faltered for a second.
That scared me more than if he’d screamed.
Matteo jammed his hands in his pockets.
“With all due respect, Dante, this is about my fiancée.”
Dante’s gaze slid to him, slow as molasses.
“Is it?”
Colder.
Matteo forced a tense smile. “She carries my name now.”
“No,” Dante said. “She doesn’t.”
Just that.
But it sounded like a line in the sand.
I stared at him.
Why was he stepping in for me?
Wait—not stepping in.
He was claiming.
That horrible, thrilling realization settled somewhere in my bones.
My father stepped closer.
“This scandal disappears today.”
Dante poured himself a whiskey, unfazed.
“How?”
“I don’t care how.”
“I noticed.”
My father stiffened.
“You think just because you run half this city you can talk to me that way?”
Dante barely glanced at him. “I run all of it.”
One of Matteo’s guards bristled.
Three of Dante’s men seemed to materialize at once.
Hands went to weapons.
The tension got so thick I could hardly breathe.
Matteo raised his hand. His men backed off.
Smart.
Dante’s guys looked hungry.
That’s when it really hit me: Not one person here was shocked by the tension. They were just silently calculating who’d walk out.
Matteo looked at me, voice unnervingly smooth. “You know what the press is saying downstairs?”
Silence.
“They’re saying Rome’s future Mrs. Vescovi spent the night screaming another man’s name.”
Humiliation shocked my system. My eyes burned.
One of Dante’s guards looked away—couldn’t even meet my gaze.
Matteo caught my reaction, smiling faintly. He enjoyed it.
“I should’ve known,” he sneered. “Women like you always get greedy.”
Women like me.
It was almost funny.
Three days ago Matteo called me beautiful, elegant—the perfect accessory for his family.
Now I was garbage.
Amazing how fast respect dies when a man’s pride gets hurt.
“I was drugged,” I spat.
Matteo’s face went ice cold. “And you still opened your legs.”
I slapped him before I knew what I was doing.
The crack echoed off the walls.
Everyone froze—even me.
He touched his cheek—then slowly, he smiled.
And that smile?
Worse than being slapped back.
“You really want to test me today?”
“Go to hell.”
My father yanked my arm so hard pain shot up my shoulder.
“Enough!”
I gasped.
Dante didn’t shout or move—his voice turned glacial.
“Take your hand off her.”
It was so quiet you could hear the whiskey glass settle.
My father didn’t back down. “You don’t order me when it comes to my daughter.”
Dante set his drink down, eyes hard on my father.
“If you talk like that again, Matteo,” he said, ignoring everyone else, “they’ll fish you out of the Tiber in pieces.”
Silence.
Nobody even breathed.
Dante didn’t have to yell.
That was why everyone was scared.
Matteo’s expression hardened.
“Threatening me?”
“No.” Dante’s head c****d just a touch.
“Explaining consequences.”
Should’ve scared me.
Instead, something old and angry stung my chest.
Because Dante De Luca—the Black Devil—was the only person here treating me like I was more than a chore, or a mistake.
My father’s grip loosened.
Matteo straightened his jacket like nothing rattled him. “You’re really letting a woman get to you.”
Dante’s face was unreadable.
“You’re really disrespecting one.”
A hush settled. My heartbeat was way too fast.
Matteo gave a short laugh—right at me this time. “You still think you have a choice about any of this.
My stomach twisted.
“What are you talking about?”
Nobody would answer.
That terror crawled up my spine.
I looked from my father, to Matteo, then to Dante.
And Dante’s face—he already knew where this was headed. He wasn’t stopping it.
Matteo walked closer.
“Didn’t your father tell you about the agreement?”
“What agreement?”
My father muttered something ugly in Italian.
.
Matteo grinned. “There it is.”
I glared at my father.
“Explain what?”
The silence just got uglier.
Rage started flooding where the shame had been.
“Somebody. Tell me.”
Matteo did.
“The engagement contract.”
For a second the words didn’t even land.
Then a chill ran straight through me.
“What contract?”
“You didn’t know?” Matteo almost looked delighted.
I spun on my father. “You signed something?”
He wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“It was necessary.”
My pulse hammered in my throat.
Necessary.
“Selene,” my father snapped. “Marriages like this are alliances.”
“You sold me.”
“Watch your tone.”
“No, you watch yours!” My voice broke, but I didn’t back down. “You arranged my life behind my back?”
“It saved the family,” he shot back.
That’s when I really saw him—not as a father. As a businessman. Cold as ice.
“How long?” I whispered.
Nobody answered.
“How long?”
Matteo checked his watch, bored. “Six months. Give or take.”
Six months.
While I pretended everything was normal, laughed at dinners, picked out engagement dresses, believed I had a future—
The choice had never been mine.
I stared at Matteo. “Was I ever supposed to find out?”
He smirked. “Eventually.”
I laughed, sharp and empty.
Wow.
My chest actually ached.
For a second everything fell into place—Valentina’s panic, my father’s anger, Matteo’s weird obsession.
I’d never been a daughter. Or a fiancée.
Just a deal.
Something brittle wedged itself beneath my ribs.
Dante watched me closely now.
Like he understood exactly how hard this was landing.
And that almost felt worse.
Matteo let out a showy sigh, already moving on. “Well. Since this little disaster ruined everything, let’s talk compensation.”
Compensation.
God, I nearly lunged at him.
Dante was faster.
Suddenly he was in front of me—towering, totally calm, a wall I didn’t know I needed.
Matteo stopped in his tracks.
Smart.
“You don’t talk about her like she’s property,” Dante said, voice quiet and final.
Matteo just rolled his eyes. “That’s what she is.”
Bad move.
Every guard tensed—guns at the ready under those expensive jackets.
Even my father looked pale.
Dante gave the smallest half-smile.
And honestly, that was more terrifying than any threat so far.
“You should leave,” Dante told him.
Matteo scoffed, but it sounded a little hollow. “Or what?”
Dante held his gaze. “Or I stop being polite.”
Absolute silence.
I watched Dante, and for the first time, I saw exactly what people feared about him.
He didn’t lose his temper.
He just got sharper.
Matteo broke eye contact and stepped back.
Not admitting defeat—just plotting his next move.
“I’ll remember this,” he snapped.
Dante shrugged. “So will the river.”
Jesus.
Matteo looked like he might try to kill someone—me, maybe Dante, maybe both.
My father cut in before it could spiral out of control. “This situation has to be contained,” he barked. “Everyone thinks my daughter slept with Dante De Luca on purpose.”
“I did sleep with him on purpose,” I said, without even thinking.
Heads shot up.
Honestly, I barely knew why I’d said it.
Maybe because I was sick of being talked over, sick of being erased.
Maybe it was pure pride, what little I had left.
Or maybe I just wanted to see the look on their faces.
Matteo’s face twisted with rage.
“You shameless little—”
Dante didn’t even look at him. “She remembers nothing.”
Matteo paused.
“So?”
Dante’s gaze locked on mine. “But she still refused to lie.”
Something sharp passed between us.
Recognition. Maybe even respect.
I hated that it made me feel better.
My father suddenly looked hollowed-out. So, so old.
“This city will eat her alive,” he muttered.
“No,” Dante said flatly. “They won’t.”
Matteo snorted, angry and desperate. “You think you can protect her reputation now?”
Dante straightened his sleeve.
Then, quietly, he detonated the room.
“Selene is leaving with me.”
Nobody reacted. The entire world stopped.
My father’s face went paper white.
Matteo looked at Dante like he’d just committed murder.
And me?
I forgot how to breathe.
Because Dante De Luca wasn’t asking.
He’d made up his mind.
- Writer
