Chapter 10
774 Words
Chapter 9 – The Devil Moves In
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[Matteo – Earlier That Morning, In Secret]
“You want me to what?” Matteo growled, slamming his hand against Lucas’s desk.
Lucas didn’t flinch. “I said bring Joan into the house. As your fiancée.”
“No.”
Lucas leaned forward. “Matteo, the Bratva already know about what happened. They’re watching Ariana. You think you can protect her with just guards and steel walls? Joan’s father is allied with the Vory. She’s the only leverage we’ve got left to stop them from cutting her throat.”
“I’ll find another way.”
“There is no other way.” Lucas’s voice dropped. “You love her? Then put a leash on Joan before someone else puts a bullet in Ariana.”
Matteo’s jaw clenched so hard it hurt.
“Don’t let her find out,” he said.
Lucas gave a slow nod. “She won’t. Not from me.”
But they both knew secrets never stayed buried in the De Luca household.
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[Ariana – That Night]
She slammed the drawer shut. Her favorite housekeeper — Mariel — had been fired.
The chef she trusted since she was fourteen? Gone.
The staff were disappearing one by one, and the rooms she used to feel safe in were being redecorated with Joan’s gold-accented, psychotic taste.
The house smelled like citrus and poison.
“Miss Ariana?” one of the maids whispered. “Madam Joan said you’re not allowed to use the master living room anymore.”
Ariana turned slowly, the smile on her face all teeth.
“Tell Madam Joan if she ever refers to herself as ‘madam’ again in this house, I’ll personally shove her title down her throat.”
The maid fled.
She heard Joan’s heels before she saw her — red stilettos clicking like threats on marble floors.
Joan entered the hall like she owned it, wearing a cream satin dress that barely qualified as clothing. Her hair was pinned in a loose, romantic twist, her lipstick the color of fresh blood.
“You’re acting like a brat,” Joan said, with a condescending tilt of her head. “No wonder Matteo never takes you seriously.”
Ariana stepped forward, rage curling in her veins. “You fire my staff, move into my house, change everything like you’re queen of hell — and you want me to sit and smile?”
Joan laughed. “Your house? Darling, this was never yours. It was your mother’s. Then it became his. You were just a tenant with good genes.”
Ariana’s hand curled into a fist. “You’re a crazy psychopath with no mental health. And I hope every mirror in this place shatters before you realize you’ll never be loved.”
Joan’s smile faltered for just a second.
Then she stepped closer and whispered, “Funny. Matteo didn’t seem to mind me in his bed two years ago.”
Ariana froze.
But Joan didn’t wait for a response — she turned and walked away, hips swaying like a challenge.
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[Joan – Later That Night]
She watched him from the shadows of the hall — Matteo, standing alone in the dark, a glass of whiskey in hand, jaw locked like he was preparing for war.
He hadn’t touched her.
Not yet.
But she was closer than ever.
Her plan was working. Ariana was unraveling. The Bratva were quiet. And Matteo… Matteo was breaking.
She stepped forward, letting her silk robe slip just enough to reveal skin.
“You shouldn’t drink alone,” she purred.
“I shouldn’t do a lot of things,” he muttered, not looking at her.
Joan closed the space between them, resting her hand against his chest. “I could make this easier for you, Matteo. You don’t have to fight it.”
“Fight what?”
She smiled, tilting her head up. “Us. Fate. You were always mine. What happened two years ago—”
“Was a mistake,” he bit out.
Her eyes glittered. “No. It was destiny.”
Matteo didn’t move. Didn’t push her away.
He didn’t speak either.
And that silence… that stillness… was what Ariana walked in on.
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[Ariana – Present Moment]
She’d been searching for Matteo — to warn him about something she overheard from one of Lucas’s men. But the second she turned the corner, she froze.
Joan. Half-dressed. Her hand on his chest.
Matteo. Silent. Still.
Joan’s gaze shifted — landed on her.
And she smiled.
Ariana’s stomach twisted.
Then, with her eyes still locked on Ariana’s, Joan stood on her toes and kissed him.
- Writer
