Bound to the Devil

Chapter 7: Shadows and Silk

The midnight air was a cold shock against my skin, a stark contrast to the stifling, perfume-laden atmosphere of the dining hall. I had traded my crimson gown for a simple black silk slip dress and a heavy wool cloak, the fabric rustling softly against my legs as I navigated the labyrinthine gardens of the Costa estate.

My heart was a drum in the silence of the night. Every shadow seemed to stretch toward me like a grasping hand, and the rustle of the wind through the cypress trees sounded like hushed, malevolent whispers.

DO NOT TRUST THE LILIES.

The warning played on a loop in my mind. If the lilies in my room were bugged, it meant Luciano didn't just want to possess me—it meant he didn't trust me for a single second. It meant every moan, every breath, and every moment of vulnerability in that suite had been a performance for an invisible audience.

I reached the fountain at the center of the garden, the stone cherubs weeping silver water into the basin. The moon was high and sharp, casting everything in shades of monochrome.

"You’re late, Siena."

I whirled around, my hand flying to my throat. Standing in the shadow of a massive stone archway was a figure shrouded in dark clothing. As he stepped into the moonlight, my breath hitched.

"Dante?" I whispered, my voice trembling. "What are you doing here? If Luciano finds you—"

"Luciano is occupied with a shipment that just 'lost' its escort," Dante Moretti said, a cruel, handsome smirk playing on his lips. He walked toward me with the effortless arrogance of a man who knew he was untouchable. "He’s a smart man, your husband. But he’s arrogant. He thinks his walls are high enough to keep the world out. He’s wrong."

"You sent the note," I stated, backing away until my heel hit the edge of the fountain. "Why? Why risk your life to tell me about the lilies?"

Dante stopped just inches from me. He smelled of expensive cologne and the bitter scent of gunpowder. He reached out, his gloved hand catching a strand of my hair. "Because a bird as beautiful as you shouldn't be kept in a cage made of lies. Luciano didn't choose those flowers because they were your favorite, Siena. He chose them because the pollen masks the scent of the electronic components inside the vase. He’s been watching you sleep. Watching you... ache for him."

A wave of nausea rolled over me, followed quickly by a white-hot flash of fury. I felt exposed, violated in a way that was deeper than anything physical.

"And you?" I spat, batting his hand away. "What do you want? You didn't come here out of the goodness of your heart, Dante. The Morettis don't have hearts."

Dante chuckled, a low, dry sound. "I want exactly what Luciano wants. I want the Russo crown. And I want the woman wearing it. Join me, Siena. Tell me the codes to his private study, give me the names of his silent partners, and I will get you out of here before the sun rises. I’ll give you a life where you aren't a prisoner."

I looked at him—at the predator offering me a different kind of cage. "You’re asking me to betray my husband."

"I’m asking you to save yourself." Dante leaned in, his voice dropping to a persuasive hum. "Think about it. One night of bravery for a lifetime of freedom."

He moved his hand to my waist, his touch bold and uninvited. But before he could pull me closer, a shadow detached itself from the trees behind him.

"I think you’ve overstayed your welcome, Moretti."

The voice was like a glacier grinding against stone. Luciano.

Dante froze, his hand dropping from my waist as if it had been burned. He turned slowly, find himself staring down the barrel of Luciano’s silenced Beretta.

Luciano stepped into the moonlight. He wasn't wearing his tuxedo anymore. He was in his tactical gear—black vest, combat boots, his hair disheveled and his eyes glowing with a murderous, unhinged light. He looked less like a businessman and more like the Angel of Death.

"Luciano, I was just—" Dante started, his bravado crumbling.

"I don't care what you were doing," Luciano interrupted, his voice terrifyingly calm. "I watched you walk through my gates on the thermal feed. I watched you touch my wife on the garden monitors. The only reason you aren't a corpse right now is because I want your father to see what’s left of you first."

"Luciano, wait!" I cried, stepping between them. I didn't care about Dante, but I knew that killing a Moretti heir in our garden would start a war that would burn Naples to the ground.

Luciano’s gaze shifted to me, and for a second, I thought he might turn the gun on me. The betrayal in his eyes was a physical weight. "Get in the house, Siena. Now."

"No! He’s lying, Luciano! He said the lilies—"

"I told you to get in the house!" he roared, the sound echoing off the stone walls.

Dante took the distraction as an opportunity. He dived over the low hedge, disappeared into the thicket of the lower garden, and scrambled toward the outer wall. Luciano fired twice—the muted thwip-thwip of the silencer cutting through the air—but the shadows swallowed Dante whole.

Luciano didn't chase him. He turned his full attention to me. He holstered his weapon and walked toward me, his movements jerky with adrenaline and rage.

"So," he hissed, grabbing my upper arms and lifting me nearly off the ground. "This is why you couldn't sleep. You were waiting for your lover."

"He is not my lover! I came here because he sent a note! He said you were spying on me!" I struggled against him, my cloak falling open to reveal the thin silk of my nightdress.

Luciano looked down at me, his gaze raking over my exposed skin. The rage in his eyes shifted, darkening into that familiar, terrifying hunger. He pinned me back against the cold stone of the fountain cherub, his body a wall of heat and muscle against mine.

"Spying on you?" He let out a harsh, jagged laugh. "I don't need to spy on you to know how you feel, Siena. I can feel your heart racing against my chest right now. I can see the way your body reacts when I touch you, even when you’re trying to hate me."

He slammed his hand against the stone beside my head. "Dante Moretti touched you. He had his hands on my wife."

"He meant nothing! I was trying to find the truth!"

"The truth is right here," Luciano growled. He leaned in, his mouth hovering just an inch from mine. "The truth is that you are mine, and I will destroy anyone who thinks otherwise. Including you, if I have to."

He didn't wait for a response. He crushed his lips to mine in a kiss that was pure violence and desperate need. It tasted of salt and iron. My hands came up to push him away, but as his tongue forced its way past my teeth, my resolve crumbled. The adrenaline from the confrontation with Dante twisted into a fierce, raw desire.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, my body arching into his. Luciano groaned, his hand sliding under the silk of my dress, his palm rough against the sensitive skin of my thigh. He hiked the dress up, his fingers digging into my hip with a possessiveness that made me cry out into his mouth.

The fountain water splashed behind us, the cool mist settling on our heated skin. Luciano broke the kiss, his breath ragged against my neck. "You want to know about the lilies, Siena? I put them there because I wanted to see you. I wanted to see if you were as beautiful when you were alone as you are when you’re defying me."

"You're a monster," I whispered, even as I tilted my head to give him better access to my throat.

"I am," he agreed, his teeth nipping at the junction of my neck and shoulder. "And you are the monster’s bride. Never forget that."

He pulled back, his eyes searching mine. The lust was still there, thick and heavy, but so was the warning. He let me go, the sudden coldness of the night air making me shiver.

"Go to your room," he commanded, his voice back to its icy, detached tone. "And Siena... the lilies stay. If I find them moved, I’ll assume you have something else to hide. And next time, I won't be so patient."

He turned and walked toward the dark trees, leaving me standing by the fountain, my dress rumpled and my soul on fire. I had survived the night, but the war had only just begun.