Forced Marriage with the Devil Mafia

To feast on you

What is love?

For five years, Marcel searched for this answer, but couldn't find it. Jenna's one single letter for him with the confession of her love for him changed his entire life. A heart of steel suddenly turned soft with those words.

For him love became the feeling, which could burn anyone internally without being anyone's noticed.

However, Jenna left him merely because of their family history. Marcel tried falling in love, went on blind dates, but could never take Jenna off his mind.

She had become his worst obsession and he wanted her for him.

And finally it had happened!

He successfully married her, but only to be welcomed by Jenna's harsh treatment, brutal remarks.

As soon as they arrived at the mansion, which no longer looked like the old one, Marcel again took Jenna in a bridal style to their bedroom. She insisted on him to put her down, but those words fell into deaf's ears.

He finally put her down and turned to close the door. Jenna knew there was no point to escape from Marcel, so she decided to face him to confront with him.

The tuxedo blazer slid off Marcel's shoulder and he turned on his heels to look at her. His hand moved to his neck to loosen that bowtie and he walked toward her with deliberate slow steps.

"Don't even think of touching me, or I swear—” Jenna’s threat trailed off as her gaze landed on a gleaming knife resting on the table. With swift determination, she grasped it, brandishing the blade towards him and said with a stutter, "I won't hesitate to-to injure you."

Marcel merely chuckled at her defensive stance. Jenna retreated until the rug’s edge caught her feet, causing her to stumble. Seizing the moment, Marcel deftly disarmed her, placing the knife back on its table with a clink.

Undaunted, he closed in once more, his presence looming over her.

"You owe me five years of turmoil, Jenna," Marcel's voice was a low growl, his hand possessively curled around her neck, his lips hovering dangerously close to hers.

Jenna gulped at his towering figure. Her heart raced exceptionally faster in the current moment as if it would jump out of her mouth. The touch of his cold fingers sent shivers down her spine.

"You burned me to hell. You've no idea in what state you left me," Marcel husky voice brushed her lips, his breath fanning.

"I have no ties with you, Mr. Mikaelson!" Jenna retorted, her hands pressing against his chest in an attempt to create some distance.

"Unfortunate for you, Jenna. You stirred the beast within me once and then abandoned me. You've transformed me into a devil," Marcel's declaration was chilling, his gaze piercing.

Jenna didn't blink at his words. His lips were just a hair width distance away from hers.

"And this devil is ready to feast on you." Without any preamble, he pressed his rough lips onto hers.

Jenna writhed in an attempt to escape his grasp, acutely aware of the firm pressure of his hand against her lower back and the other encircling her neck.

Despite her resolve not to respond to his kiss, a bewildering force within her stirred, betraying her intentions. It had been five years since their accidental kiss—a moment that irrevocably altered her feelings towards Marcel, awakening an unwanted attraction toward him.

Why her insides were feeling suddenly weak? And most importantly, a deep buried feeling in her heart had suddenly turned alive.

No!

Jenna told her mind. She couldn't let Marcel win and take over her forcefully. Her nails dug in the fabric of his white shirt, but he was not ready to leave her until she would reciprocate.

Marcel couldn't tell the feeling of his lips against her mouth. And then, she bit his lip hard, causing him to groan and took a pause. He broke the kiss, a puzzling expression covering his eyes. His thumb instinctively moved to his lower lip only to find blood while Jenna panted, shooting daggers at him from her eyes.

"How could I forget you always loved to bite, Wild Cat?" Marcel muttered with a grin.

"Marcel, you can't just claim me. My heart doesn't belong to you... It belongs to Corey," Jenna declared, her voice steady despite the fear in her eyes.

At the mention of that name, a shadow fell over Marcel's features, his eyes smoldering with a dangerous intensity.

"Have I not made myself clear? Mention him again, and I might just forget my restraint not to kill him," he growled, closing the gap between them. "You are mine, Jenna," he stated, his tone laced with an unmistakable claim of ownership.

As Jenna's hand flew up in defiance, Marcel caught it effortlessly, pulling her flush against him. "Violence won't change our reality. Embrace your new role—you are the wife of a Mafia lord now, wed to a man who doesn't hesitate to spill blood," he declared coldly.

Confronted with this ruthless version of Marcel, Jenna felt a pang of longing for the man he once was. Despite her love for Corey, Marcel's proximity stirred old feelings she thought were long buried. Why did his presence still weaken her resolve?

"I hate you," Jenna said, her eyes brimming with tears.

"I also hate you for turning me into madness," Marcel affirmed.

"Did you allow that bastard to touch you? Weren't you scared of the physical touch from another man?" Marcel inquired, his words made her recall the past.

"What if he did? Will you kill him or kill me?" Jenna queried, a streak of tear flowed down her cheek.

"I wish I could kill you, but I will punish that f*cker for touching you," Marcel pronounced as if he made a pledge.

Jenna took a step back and moved her hands to the zipper of her dress. Marcel heard the soft, deliberate sound of the zipper being pulled down.

Jenna slowly slid the gown off her shoulders, her gaze locked onto his. "This is what you want, right?" she questioned, her voice carrying a mix of defiance and vulnerability.

Marcel didn't look down. Instead, he clenched his fists and closed the distance between them, stopping her from lowering the gown any further. Gently, he pulled it back up, covering her chest. "You think this low of me, don't you?" Marcel's eyes reflected the hurt he felt.

"Try that again, and I'll punish you," Marcel warned, his tone firm but not unkind, as he carefully pulled her zipper back up. Then, he leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips, conveying his true feelings, which he, too, had buried deep within him.