Married To The Devil I Hate

Chapter 9

The cold Chicago air hits my flushed skin the moment we step out of the museum’s private VIP exit, providing a small mercy after the suffocating tension of the gala. The rain is still falling, a steady, freezing drizzle that slicks the dark pavement and makes the city lights blur.

The heavy, armored black SUV is waiting for us at the curb, the engine idling with a low, predatory rumble. Dozens of Luca’s men surround the vehicle, their eyes scanning the dark alleyways, their hands hovering dangerously close to the weapons hidden under their suits.

Luca keeps his massive hand firmly planted on the bare skin of my lower back. His touch is a brand of heat against the chill of the night. He doesn't say a word as he guides me into the back seat, practically shielding my body with his own until I am safely inside. He climbs in right after me, the heavy door slamming shut behind him, instantly cutting off the noise of the rainy city.

The motorcade immediately pulls away from the curb, seamlessly forming a tight, protective formation as we head back toward the fortified estate on the outskirts of the city.

I press my shoulder against the tinted window, staring out at the passing streetlights. My heart is still beating entirely too fast. The encounter with Lorenzo at the party is playing on a repeating loop in my mind. Luca had been fully prepared to kill a man a powerful mafia associate just for looking at me with dirty eyes.

I slowly turn my head to look at him.

Luca is leaning back against the plush leather seat, his long legs stretched out. He has unbuttoned the top two buttons of his crisp white shirt, loosening his black bowtie. His pitch black hair is slightly damp from the rain, falling effortlessly over his forehead. He looks exhausted, dangerous, and impossibly handsome. His eyes are staring straight ahead, completely lost in his own dark thoughts.

"Who was that man?" I ask softly, my voice breaking the heavy silence in the car.

Luca doesn't look at me, but his strong jaw clenches tight. "Lorenzo Costa. He is a capo for a rival faction on the south side. He is a piece of s**t who doesn't know how to keep his eyes to himself."

"He looked like he was terrified of you," I murmur, my eyes tracing the sharp lines of Luca's profile.

Luca finally turns his head, his eyes locking onto mine in the dim light of the cabin. "He should be. Anyone who breathes near you without my permission should be terrified, Sophia. You are my wife. You are the Queen of this syndicate now. You don't bow to rats like him."

I swallow hard, my pulse jumping. "I don't want to be a Queen. I never asked for any of this."

"I know," Luca says, his deep, raspy voice softening just a fraction. He reaches across the center console, his rough fingers gently brushing against the back of my hand. The simple, unexpected touch sends a wild jolt of electricity straight up my arm. "But you are in this world now. And I will burn the whole f*****g city down before I let anyone disrespect you."

I stare at his hand resting near mine. I should pull away. I should scream at him for ruining my life. But the truth is, I am so incredibly tired of fighting. And god help me, the twisted, insane protection he offers is starting to chip away at my anger.

I open my mouth to say something anything to push him away but the words never leave my lips.

Suddenly, the massive SUV slams on the brakes.

The force of the sudden stop throws me violently forward. I gasp, my hands flying out to catch myself on the partition, but before I can even process what is happening, a deafening explosion shatters the quiet night.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

"Ambush!" the driver screams from the front seat, aggressively throwing the vehicle into reverse. The tires screech in protest, burning rubber against the wet asphalt.

My brain completely short circuits. Automatic gunfire erupts from the darkness outside, the sound so loud it physically hurts my ears. A hail of bullets slams into the side of our vehicle. The heavy, armored plating absorbs the first few hits with terrifying, metallic thuds, but the sheer volume of the firepower is absolutely overwhelming.

"Get the f**k down!" Luca roars.

Before I can even react, he lunges across the seat. His massive hands grab my shoulders, and he throws me onto the floorboards of the SUV. I hit the carpet hard, the breath completely knocked out of my lungs.

An instant later, Luca’s entire body crashes down on top of me.

He covers me completely, using his sheer size to press me flat against the floor. He wraps his arms tightly around my head, burying my face into his chest, entirely shielding my body with his own.

The sound of the gunfire is deafening. It feels like the end of the world.

"Drive!" Luca barks over the chaos, his chest vibrating against my cheek as he yells at the men in the front. "Run them the f**k over! Go!"

CRASH!

A high caliber bullet finally manages to pierce the reinforced glass of the passenger window right above us. The glass completely shatters, exploding into a thousand tiny, deadly pieces.

I scream, squeezing my eyes shut in pure terror as the glass rains down on us like sharp hail. I feel the heavy, dangerous weight of Luca flinch slightly as the shards hit his broad back, but he doesn't move a single inch. He just presses me tighter against the sit, his muscular arms locking around me like a vice.

"I've got you," Luca growls right into my ear, his deep voice completely steady despite the absolute hell raining down on us. "I've got you, Sophia. Do not move."

I am trembling so violently my teeth are chattering. I grip the lapels of his tuxedo jacket, my fingers digging desperately into the fabric. The smell of his cologne is mixed entirely with the sharp, acidic stench of gunpowder.

Outside, I can hear our guards returning fire. The popping sounds of handguns mix with the heavy blasts of assault rifles. Men are shouting, tires are squealing, and the sickening sound of metal crunching against metal echoes through the street as our driver rams straight through whatever vehicle was blocking our path.

"Hold on!" the driver shouts.

The SUV swerves to the left, the tires catching traction on the wet road. We accelerate so fast that my stomach completely drops. I squeeze my eyes tighter, burying my face deeper into Luca's chest, waiting for a bullet to tear through the metal and end my life.

But Luca’s heartbeat is pounding steadily against my ear. It is strong, heavy, and completely fearless. He is a human shield, absolutely willing to take a bullet to his own back just to keep me safe. The realization hits me harder than the shattered glass.

The sound of gunfire slowly begins to fade as our driver speeds away from the kill zone, leaving the ambush behind in the dark streets of Chicago.

For a long, agonizing minute, we stay exactly where we are. The SUV takes sharp turns, speeding recklessly toward the safety of the fortified estate, but Luca refuses to let me go. He keeps me pinned to the floorboards, his breathing heavy and ragged above me.

"Boss, we are clear," the driver finally calls back, his voice shaking with adrenaline. "They aren't following. We are ten minutes from the gates."

Luca lets out a harsh, cursing breath. He slowly shifts his weight, lifting his massive body off of me.

"Are you hit?" he demands instantly, his hands immediately running over my arms, my shoulders, and down my sides, frantically checking for blood. "Sophia, talk to me. Are you hit?"

I sit up slowly, my head spinning with pure panic. My black silk dress is covered in tiny shards of broken glass. My hands are shaking so badly I can barely lift them.

"No," I gasp out, my chest heaving as I try to pull oxygen into my terrified lungs. "No, I'm okay. I'm not shot."

Luca lets out a massive sigh of relief. He grabs my face in both of his large hands, his thumbs aggressively wiping a few pieces of glass out of my hair. His eyes are wild, entirely consumed by a frantic, possessive terror that steals the breath right out of my lungs.

"Look at me," he orders roughly.

I look up into his eyes.

"You're safe," he promises, his voice a lethal rumble. "I told you I wouldn't let anything happen to you. You are completely safe."

I nod weakly, a single tear slipping down my cheek. He catches it with his thumb, his gaze dropping to my trembling lips.

Suddenly, I notice something dark dripping onto the collar of his crisp white shirt.

"Luca," I whisper, my eyes widening in alarm. I reach up, my trembling fingers hovering over his left bicep. The fabric of his tuxedo jacket is sliced open, and thick, dark red blood is rapidly seeping through the material.

A piece of the shattered window, or maybe a grazing bullet, had caught his arm while he was shielding me.

"You're bleeding," I say, my voice cracking with panic.

Luca glances down at his arm, completely indifferent to the injury. It is as if he doesn't even feel the pain. He looks back up at me, his intense blue eyes softening just a fraction.

"It's nothing," he says quietly, his hands sliding down to grip my waist, pulling me up off the floor and onto the leather seat beside him. "It's just a scratch."

"You need a doctor," I insist, grabbing a clean handkerchief from his breast pocket and aggressively pressing it against the bleeding wound on his arm. My hands are still shaking but I force myself to apply pressure.

Luca doesn't stop me. He just sits there in the ruined, glass-covered back seat of the SUV, letting me patch him up.

I look up at him, my eyes locking onto his. We are sitting inches apart, completely surrounded by the violent reality of the mafia. The hatred I felt for this man just yesterday is slowly, terrifyingly twisting into something else entirely. He is a ruthless killer, a dictator who forced me into a marriage I never wanted.

But tonight, the Devil of Chicago threw his body over mine and bled to keep me alive.

"Why did you do that?" I whisper, the question tearing out of my throat. "You could have been killed."

Luca reaches up, his large, blood stained hand gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear. His touch is impossibly gentle for a man made of pure violence.

"I told you," Luca murmurs, his blue eyes burning with a dark, undeniable obsession. "You are the only real thing left in my world, Sophia. I will take a thousand bullets before I ever let one touch you."

The sincerity in his voice makes my heart ache. I drop my gaze back down to his bleeding arm, keeping my hands pressed firmly against the wound, entirely unable to respond.

The SUV races through the night, carrying us back to the cold, stone fortress. But as I sit beside my husband in the dark, the scent of gunpowder and blood mixing in the air, I realize with absolute certainty that the lines of this war have completely blurred. I am no longer just a captive. And he is no longer just my enemy.