BOUND TO THE DEVIL’S HEIR

The room smelled like leather, whiskey, and control. Elize Moore kept her back straight, even as the weight of three men’s stares pressed down on her like a physical force. She didn’t belong here—and that was exactly why she had to act like she did. “Miss Moore,” the man at the center said calmly, fingers steepled. “You’re in a difficult situation.” That was one way to put it. Her sister was drowning in hospital bills. Debt collectors had stopped calling and had started visiting. And now, somehow, she had been summoned into a private meeting with men who didn’t operate within the law. Elize met his gaze. “You didn’t bring me here to state the obvious.” A flicker of amusement crossed his face. Vittorio DeLuca. Power sat on him like a second skin. “No,” he agreed. “I brought you here because you’re useful.” Before she could respond, the door behind her opened. She didn’t turn immediately. But she felt it. A shift in the room. Subtle. Dangerous. Footsteps—slow, deliberate. When she finally looked, her breath caught despite herself. He wasn’t loud. He wasn’t trying to impress anyone. And somehow, that made him worse. Luca DeLuca. The devil’s heir. Dark suit. Unreadable expression. Eyes that didn’t just look—they assessed, calculated, decided. He stopped beside his father, gaze settling on Elize as if she was already his property. “Her?” Luca asked, voice low, unimpressed. Elize’s jaw tightened. “I’m standing right here.” His eyes flicked back to hers. Cold. Sharp. Interested. “Good,” he said. “Then you can hear this clearly.” Vittorio leaned back slightly. “We’re offering you a solution to all your problems, Miss Moore.” “And in return?” she asked. Because nothing like this comes free. Luca stepped forward now, close enough that she could feel the quiet force of him. “In return,” he said, “you marry me.” Silence hit the room like a dropped glass. Elize didn’t move. Didn’t blink. But inside, everything sharpened. This wasn’t desperation anymore. This was something else. Something dangerous. “Why me?” she asked carefully. Luca studied her for a long moment. “Because you have nothing,” he said. “And nothing makes people… flexible.” The insult landed. She let it. Then she tilted her head slightly. “You’re wrong.” A pause. “About?” “I have something,” Elize said softly. His brow lifted a fraction. “A choice.” For the first time, something almost like interest sparked in his eyes. “Not really,” Luca replied. And that was when Vittorio slid a folder across the table. Elize opened it. Hospital records. Debt reports. Photos of her sister. Her grip tightened. “This isn’t a choice,” Vittorio said gently. “It’s an opportunity.” Elize closed the folder slowly. When she looked back up, her expression had changed. Calmer. Colder. “Fine,” she said. Luca watched her closely. “You’re agreeing?” he asked. She held his gaze. “Yes.” A beat. Then, quietly— “But don’t mistake this for submission.” Something dark flickered in Luca’s eyes. “Good,” he said. “I’d be disappointed if you were easy to break.” Elize gave the faintest smile. If only he knew.