Bound to the Devil

Chapter 1: The Sacrificial Lamb

The mirror didn’t lie, but I wished it would.

I stared at the girl in the glass. She wore ivory silk that cost more than a villa in Sicily. Her hair was pinned with diamonds. Her skin was flawless. But her eyes were wide with terror. Cold, numbing terror.

"You look beautiful, Siena," my father’s voice came from the doorway.

I didn't turn. I couldn't. "I look like a ghost, Papa. A ghost you’re about to hand over to the Devil."

Marco Russo stepped into the room. I smelled the vintage scotch on his breath. He was a Capo. He was supposed to be a lion. Today, he looked like a rat.

"It's the only way," he whispered. "The Costas... they don't negotiate. Luciano Costa specifically asked for you. If I say no, we all die. Your brothers. Your mother. Everyone."

I turned sharply. My heels clicked on the marble. "So, I am the currency? I am how you pay your debts?"

"Siena, please—"

"Don't," I snapped. My voice trembled. "You're selling me to Il Diavolo. Do you know what they say about him?"

"Rumors," my father muttered. He looked at his shoes.

"They say he has no heart," I said, stepping closer. "They say he once burned an entire warehouse with the traitors still locked inside, just to watch the smoke rise. He didn't even look away while they screamed. And now I’m supposed to share a bed with him? To bear his children?"

Silence fell. He had no answer. He knew the stories were true. In the Mafia, women are pawns. Today, I was a pawn on a blood-stained board.

Suddenly, the roar of powerful engines echoed from the driveway below. My heart skipped a beat. It began to race like a trapped bird. Three obsidian-black SUVs pulled into the driveway. Men in dark suits stepped out with military precision. Then, the middle door opened.

Luciano Costa stepped out.

Time slowed down. Even from the second floor, his presence was a physical weight. He was tall. His shoulders were broad. He looked like a god of war.

"Let’s go," my father said, grabbing my arm. "Don't keep him waiting. He hates waiting."

My legs felt like lead. We walked down the grand staircase. Luciano was already inside. He was leaning against the mahogany table, looking like he owned the house.

"Marco," Luciano said. His voice was a low, melodic growl. Dark and rich, like expensive chocolate mixed with gravel.

"Luciano," my father bowed his head. "This is my daughter. Siena."

Luciano shifted his gaze to me. His eyes were the color of a stormy sea. A piercing, icy gray. They looked right through my silk dress. They looked into my soul.

His gaze stripped me bare. It was a heavy weight. I felt a sudden, traitorous heat in my stomach. His eyes lingered on my neck. When he stepped closer, the scent of sandalwood and cold steel overwhelmed me.

I was terrified. But my body reacted. A sharp, electric jolt made my n*****s harden against the lace of my dress. He was a monster, but he was the most dominant thing I had ever seen. His pupils dilated as he looked at my mouth. He knew exactly what he was doing to me.

"She’s smaller than I expected," Luciano said. His voice had no emotion.

"She is... spirited," my father added quickly.

Luciano moved like a panther. He reached out. He took a lock of my dark hair between his fingers. His touch was ice-cold, yet it felt like electricity.

"Spirited?" Luciano murmured. He leaned down. His lips were inches from my ear. "I like spirit. It’s much more fun to break a woman who fights back than one who simply submits."

My face heated up. "You won't break me, Luciano."

A ghost of a smirk played on his lips. "Is that a challenge, Siena?"

"It's a promise."

Luciano turned to my father. "The contract. Now."

With a shaking hand, I picked up the pen. The ink felt like blood. I signed my name. Siena Russo. My death warrant. Luciano snatched the folder away.

"Pack her things," he commanded his men. "We leave now."

He grabbed my jaw. He forced me to look at him. His grip was firm. Unyielding. "From this moment, your old life is dead. You have me. You are a Costa now. And a Costa never looks back."

"You're a monster," I hissed.

His thumb brushed over my lower lip. It was intimate. It was terrifying. His eyes turned almost black.

"I am the Devil, Siena," he whispered. His voice dropped an octave. "And you just signed a lease on my soul. Don't expect me to be a saint."

He dragged me toward the SUV. The door closed with a heavy thud. The child locks engaged. Click. I was trapped.

"You can sit there and pout," Luciano said. He leaned back as the car moved. "Or you can accept that your life has changed. Either way, you're coming to my bed tonight."

"The contract said this was a truce. It didn't say I had to—"

"The contract says you are my wife," he interrupted. He opened one eye. The intensity made my breath hitch. "And I always take what is mine. Whether you want to give it or not."

"I will never want you," I said. My voice was thick with tears.

Luciano let out a dry, dark laugh. He reached over. His hand clamped onto the back of my neck. He pulled me toward him until our noses touched.

"We'll see about that, Siena. By the time I'm done with you, you'll be begging me to touch you. You'll be screaming my name while I show you exactly why they call me the Devil."

He didn't let go. He kept his hand on my neck, marking me, as we drove away from the only home I had ever known.

The car moved through the streets of Naples like a shark through dark water. I stared out the window, watching the familiar sights fade away. My heart felt hollow. I was a Russo, but that name meant nothing now.

Luciano was silent. He didn't look at his phone. He didn't look at the road. He just looked at me. His gaze was like a physical touch. It traveled over my shoulders, down to the lace of my bodice, and back to my eyes.

"Stop looking at me like that," I whispered.

"Like what?"

"Like I'm a piece of meat you just bought at the market."

Luciano leaned closer. The space in the SUV felt smaller. The air was thick with his scent. "You aren't meat, Siena. You are an investment. And I am a man who protects his investments very carefully."

He reached out. His fingers traced the line of my jaw. Then, they moved lower. He brushed his thumb against the pulse in my neck. It was hammering. He could feel my fear. He could feel my body betraying me.

"You're terrified," he murmured. "But you're also excited. I can see it in your eyes. I can feel it in your blood."

"I hate you," I hissed, though my voice was weak.

"Good. Hate is a powerful emotion. It makes the surrender so much sweeter."

The SUV turned into a long, winding driveway. High stone walls topped with razor wire surrounded the estate. Guards stood at the gates with assault rifles. This wasn't a home. It was a fortress. It was his kingdom.

The car stopped in front of a massive, black-stone villa. The doors were opened from the outside. Luciano stepped out and reached back in for me. He didn't wait for me to move. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me out.

The wind caught my silk dress. The diamonds in my hair glinted in the moonlight. I looked up at the house. It was beautiful, but it felt like a tomb.

"Welcome home, Siena Costa," Luciano said. He pulled me flush against his side. His arm was like an iron bar around my waist.

He didn't lead me through the front door. He marched me in. The staff stood in two perfect lines, their heads bowed. They didn't look at me. They only looked at him.

"Prepare the Master Suite," Luciano commanded. His voice echoed through the marble hall. "And bring the seidene cuffs. My wife seems to think she can fight me."

My blood went cold. Cuffs? I looked at him, my eyes wide.

"You wouldn't," I gasped.

Luciano leaned down, his lips brushing my ear one last time before we reached the stairs. "I told you, Siena. I am the Devil. And tonight, I’m taking you to hell with me."

He started to lead me up the grand staircase. Each step felt like a countdown. The "mild" girl I used to be was gone. Behind these doors, the real war was about to begin.