The Devil Who Stole My Name

The rain started the moment I stepped out of the subway station. Cold drops struck my face like tiny needles, soaking my hair and clinging to the thin fabric of my dress. I cursed softly under my breath as I hurried down the dimly lit street. Tonight was supposed to be simple. Deliver the documents. Collect my payment. Go home. Instead, I had been standing outside this abandoned-looking building for almost five minutes, wondering if I had the wrong address. I pulled my phone from my bag and checked the message again. Midnight. Back entrance. No questions. My stomach twisted. This job paid more than anything I’d done before. That alone should have been enough to scare me away. But rent was due. And desperation had a way of pushing people into places they never planned to go. Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the metal door. The hallway inside smelled like expensive cologne and something darker… like danger. Music thumped faintly from somewhere deeper inside the building. Voices echoed. Male voices. Low. Controlled. The kind that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Maybe I should leave. That thought had barely formed when a tall man stepped into the hallway ahead of me. His black suit was perfectly tailored, his expression unreadable. “Name,” he said flatly. My throat suddenly felt dry. “Alina,” I answered. He studied me for a long moment before stepping aside. “Go through the door. Don’t touch anything.” Not comforting. But I nodded anyway and walked past him. The moment I entered the room beyond, I realized I had made a terrible mistake. The place wasn’t abandoned. It was a private club. Dim red lighting bathed the space in shadows. Velvet chairs lined the walls, and men in expensive suits sat around a massive table in the center. Power practically vibrated in the air. The kind of power you didn’t question. The kind that destroyed people. My heart began to pound. This wasn’t a business meeting. This was something else entirely. And then I saw him. He sat at the head of the table like a king on a throne. Dark hair. Sharp jawline. Broad shoulders. Even from across the room, his presence commanded attention. No. It demanded it. His black shirt was unbuttoned slightly at the collar, revealing a glimpse of tanned skin and a silver chain resting against his chest. But it wasn’t his appearance that made the room feel dangerous. It was his eyes. Cold. Calculating. Predatory. They swept across the room… and stopped on me. The conversation around the table died instantly. Silence fell like a heavy curtain. I suddenly felt very aware of the envelope in my hand. And the fact that I had absolutely no idea who these people were. One of the men leaned toward the dark-haired stranger. “Boss,” he murmured. Boss. The word echoed in my head like a warning bell. The man at the head of the table slowly leaned back in his chair. His gaze never left me. Then he spoke. “Who,” he said calmly, “is she?” The man who had let me in stepped forward. “She came with the delivery.” Delivery? Right. The envelope. My hands shook slightly as I walked forward. Every step toward the table made my pulse hammer louder in my ears. I placed the envelope down. “Documents,” I said quietly. “For Mr. Romano.” The name had barely left my mouth when the room exploded with tension. Several men reached for their weapons. My heart dropped into my stomach. Mr. Romano. Apparently, that was the wrong name. Slowly, the dark-haired man stood. The movement was smooth. Controlled. Terrifying. He walked toward me like a predator circling prey. Each step made my breathing shallower. When he finally stopped in front of me, I realized something horrifying. He was even more intimidating up close. Tall. Powerful. Dangerous in a way that had nothing to do with weapons. His gaze slid over my face slowly. Then lower. Lingering just long enough to make heat creep up my neck. “Interesting,” he murmured. His voice was deep. Smooth. The kind that sent unwanted shivers down your spine. “I don’t recall ordering any deliveries tonight.” My mouth opened. Closed. “I was told to bring this here,” I managed. His hand reached for the envelope. But instead of taking it, he suddenly grabbed my wrist. The contact sent a jolt through my entire body. Not pain. Something far more dangerous. Electric awareness shot up my arm as his thumb brushed the inside of my wrist. His eyes darkened slightly. “You’re trembling,” he observed. “I’m not,” I said quickly. A lie. His lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile. “Lying to me,” he said softly, “is a very dangerous habit.” The men around the room chuckled nervously. My stomach tightened. “I should go,” I said. Bad idea. His grip tightened instantly. “You’ll leave,” he replied calmly. “But not yet.” My heart raced. “Why?” For a moment, he didn’t answer. Then his gaze shifted toward the envelope. One of his men opened it. A single photograph slipped out. The second it touched the table, the atmosphere in the room turned deadly. The man beside him swore under his breath. “That’s impossible.” The dark-haired stranger took the photograph slowly. His expression hardened. Then he turned the picture toward me. My blood turned to ice. It was a picture of me. Not a normal photo. A surveillance image. Taken earlier tonight. Standing outside the subway station. My chest tightened. “I…..I don’t understand” The man’s hand suddenly lifted my chin. Forcing me to meet his gaze. Those dark eyes burned into mine like a brand. “Someone,” he said quietly, “sent you here for a reason.” “I swear I don’t know anything!” He studied me carefully. As if weighing whether I was telling the truth. Then he leaned closer. So close I could feel his breath against my ear. Warm. Dangerous. “Here’s the problem, Alina,” he murmured. My heart nearly stopped. I never told him my name. The realization slammed into me a second too late. He already knew who I was. His fingers slid slowly down my wrist before tightening again. Not painful. Possessive. “People who get involved with my business,” he continued softly, “don’t get to walk away.” The room felt smaller. The air thicker. “Please,” I whispered. For the first time since I entered the building, something flickered in his expression. Not pity. Something darker. More interested. His gaze moved slowly over my face again. Then down to my lips. When he spoke again, his voice had changed. Lower. More dangerous. “You have two options.” My pulse thundered. “What options?” He straightened slightly. The faint smile returned to his lips. “The first,” he said, “is that I assume you’re a spy… and deal with you accordingly.” Fear shot through me. “And the second?” His eyes burned into mine. “The second,” he said slowly, “is that you become mine.” The words hung in the air. The men around the table shifted uncomfortably. Mine? “What does that even mean?” I whispered. He leaned closer again. His lips nearly brushed my ear. “It means,” he said softly, “that from tonight onward… you belong to me.” My heart pounded violently. “That’s insane.” His hand tightened around my wrist again. Then he said the words that shattered everything. “My name,” he murmured calmly, “is Lorenzo De Santis.” The room fell silent. Even without knowing the name, the reaction around the table told me everything I needed to know. Fear. Respect. Power. And suddenly, the truth hit me like a truck. I wasn’t standing in a club. I was standing in the headquarters of the most dangerous mafia family in the city. And the man holding my wrist… Was their king. I opened my mouth to protest. To beg. To run. But before I could say a word, one of the guards rushed into the room. His face pale. “Boss,” he said urgently. Lorenzo didn’t look away from me. “What is it?” The guard swallowed. Then he said the words that made the entire room freeze. “The police are surrounding the building.” My breath caught. Chaos erupted around the table. Men reached for guns. Phones. Orders flew in every direction. But Lorenzo didn’t move. His gaze remained locked on mine. Slowly… dangerously… he pulled me closer until my body collided with his chest. My breath hitched. His arm wrapped around my waist like iron. “Looks like,” he murmured against my ear, “you arrived at the worst possible time.” My heart raced. “Let me go.” His lips brushed dangerously close to my neck. “I can’t do that.” “Why not?!” His grip tightened slightly. Then he whispered the final words that made my blood run cold. “Because if the police catch you here,” he said quietly… “They’ll assume you’re my wife.” My breath stopped. And before I could react,Sirens exploded outside the building.