Devils house
1072 Words
Chapter Two
The Devil's House
The city lights faded behind them one by one, swallowed by stretches of empty highway lined with towering pines. Isabella sat rigidly in the back seat of the black SUV, her hands clenched so tightly in her lap that her fingernails dug crescents into her skin. No one had spoken since she climbed inside. The silence was almost worse than shouting. It gave her too much time to think.
She kept replaying the moment her father signed the papers. Every memory she had of him now felt tainted. Birthdays. Christmas mornings. The nights they stayed awake eating burnt popcorn while watching old movies because they couldn't afford cable. Had he already known then? Had he been drowning in debt while promising her everything would be okay? The betrayal settled heavily in her chest, refusing to loosen its grip.
She glanced toward the front of the vehicle.
Dante sat in the passenger seat, one arm resting lazily against the door. His posture was relaxed, almost casual, but there was something intimidating about the stillness he carried. He hadn't looked back at her once. He spent most of the drive staring out the window, occasionally speaking a few quiet words to the driver in Italian.
It irritated her.
How could he be so calm after destroying someone's life?
The SUV finally slowed as enormous black iron gates appeared ahead. They stood nearly fifteen feet high, decorated with intricate scrollwork and the silver crest of a wolf. Two armed guards stepped from a security booth, recognizing the vehicle immediately. One pressed a button, and the gates opened without a single question.
The driveway seemed endless.
Perfectly trimmed hedges stretched along both sides, interrupted by marble statues and fountains illuminated by soft golden lights. The further they drove, the more unbelievable everything became. Isabella had never seen a property this large outside of magazines.
Then the mansion came into view.
It wasn't a house.
It was a palace.
Three stories of cream-colored stone rose against the night sky, every window glowing warmly. Tall columns framed the entrance, while a sweeping staircase led to enormous double doors made of dark mahogany. Luxury cars lined the circular driveway—Ferraris, Bentleys, a Rolls-Royce, and several black SUVs identical to the one she was riding in.
The car came to a gentle stop.
Before Isabella could even reach for the door handle, someone opened it from the outside.
A man in a tailored suit lowered his head respectfully.
"Welcome home, Boss."
Home.
The word made her stomach twist.
Dante stepped out first. Without acknowledging the greeting, he adjusted the cuff of his jacket and climbed the front steps with measured confidence. Every servant and bodyguard they passed lowered their heads. Some avoided making eye contact altogether.
Power.
Not the kind that came from money alone.
This was the kind people feared.
Isabella hesitated before climbing out herself.
The cool night air brushed against her face as she stared at the mansion towering above her. It was beautiful in the same way a lion was beautiful—majestic from a distance, terrifying once you realized what it could do.
A middle-aged woman hurried outside before Isabella could take another step.
She wore a neat black dress with a white apron, her silver hair pulled into a tidy bun.
"Oh, my dear," she said softly, her eyes immediately filling with sympathy. "You must be exhausted."
Before Isabella could respond, Dante spoke.
"Maria."
The woman straightened instantly.
"Yes, sir."
"Take Miss Rossi to the east wing. The room beside the library."
"Of course."
Isabella frowned.
"I'm not staying."
No one answered.
She looked directly at Dante.
"I said I'm not staying."
Only then did he turn around.
For several seconds he simply studied her. His expression gave nothing away.
"You are free to leave."
The sentence caught her completely off guard.
She blinked.
"What?"
"You heard me."
A spark of hope burst inside her.
Without another word, she spun around and hurried back toward the front gates.
Her pace quickened with every step until she was nearly running.
She reached the gates.
They didn't move.
She searched for a button.
Nothing.
She pushed against the heavy iron bars with all her strength.
They didn't budge.
One of the guards watched her with an almost apologetic expression.
"Miss..."
"Open them."
"I'm afraid I can't."
"I wasn't asking."
"I'm sorry."
Frustrated tears stung her eyes.
She turned back toward the mansion.
Dante hadn't moved.
He stood exactly where she'd left him, hands in his pockets, watching quietly from the top of the staircase.
"You knew they were locked."
"Yes."
"You said I could leave."
"I said you were free to try."
Her anger boiled over.
"You think this is funny?"
"No."
"Then why are you doing this?"
His gaze remained steady.
"Because outside these gates are men who believe your father still owes them money. Men who don't answer to me. If they find you first, they'll sell you to the highest bidder before sunrise."
A chill ran through her.
She wanted to believe he was lying.
She couldn't.
He continued, his voice calm enough to be unsettling.
"Inside these gates, no one touches you without my permission."
Silence stretched between them.
It wasn't comfort.
It wasn't safety.
It was simply the better of two terrible choices.
Maria approached carefully.
"Miss Rossi... perhaps you should come inside."
Isabella looked at the mansion one last time before finally climbing the steps.
As she passed Dante, she stopped beside him.
Without looking at him, she spoke quietly.
"I will never forgive you."
For the first time since they'd met, his answer came after a pause.
"I didn't ask you to."
Maria led Isabella through towering doors into a grand entrance hall lined with marble floors, glittering chandeliers, and walls covered in priceless paintings. It was breathtaking.
It was also the loneliest place Isabella had ever seen.
High above, on the second-floor balcony, someone stood hidden in the shadows.
Watching her.
The figure disappeared before she could make out a face.
She frowned.
"Maria... who was that?"
The older woman froze for the briefest moment before forcing a smile.
"No one you need to worry about tonight."
Isabella wasn't convinced.
Somewhere inside that enormous mansion, another pair of eyes had followed her every move.
And judging by the uneasy look that crossed Maria's face, whoever it was...
Even Dante Moretti respected them.
- Writer
