Sold to the Devil of New York

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER TWO

The Devil of New York.

ADELA

My hand tightens around the knife. It is nothing but a butter knife. He is the Devil of New York. What can a butter knife do to him? I’m willing to try, though.

“I expected a bit more warmth from my bride,” his eyes flash, and he takes a step closer.

I take a step back immediately. My pulse throbs loudly in my ears. My vision sharpens and darkens, blotting out, and I force myself to be steady.

“Your bride? I don't know what you're talking about!” I snarl at him, heart racing, denying what I know to be true.

“Oh, but you do. Do not lie to me, Adela. I know your father told you about me. He gave me everything I needed.” He rasps, smirking.

I refuse to believe this is how my story ends.

“You are trespassing.” I snarl, my head aching as I take another step backwards. My mind is already going over the escape route. I need to get to Beth. I need to jump from the balcony.

“Trespassing?” He repeats with a tilt of his head. The humour has drained from his voice, and all that’s left is darkness.

“I own this city. I own you, Bambi. This is not trespassing. This is me coming to collect what I am owed.” He informs me coldly, waving his gun around, his finger on the trigger.

My stomach sinks, but the fight doesn’t die. I do not back down. I square my shoulders, the knife hidden in my palm, and rage, “My name is not Bambi.”

“Not anymore.” He agrees.

Something scary flashes over his face. He grits his jaw and takes a step closer to me.

I take one backwards, my heart rate spiking fast in my throat.

He grunts, hands the gun to Enzo and looks at me, “I did not buy you, Adela. I am not that kind of monster,” he spits out the word in disgust, “You were fifteen. I was twenty-four. I waited. You were a young, spoiled brat –”

Pressure explodes behind my eyes. “Spoiled? Spoiled?” It comes out dryly. “I was beaten, starved, locked in closets, and handed to you like a debt settlement.”

Silence stretches between us, and something flickers over his face. It’s gone before I can make sense of it.

He continues, “When you ran, I let you go.”

The air thins.

“I watched you build your little life. London. Law school. The boy you thought you loved in the second year. You are twenty-three, now. Time is up. Mine, Adela. You were always going to be mine. There is no reality where that is f*****g different.”

I’m shaking my head, my lungs constricting, cheeks burning, chest hurting, “No. No. No. I … the … nothing was signed. Nothing was written in blood. There was no agreement. I left immediately he told me. I … I am not bound to you.”

He doesn’t respond. He just leans against the counter, bored.

“You were bound to him, and you still are.” Enzo discloses that his words are empty. There is something off about him. He has always been emotionless, but this is different.

“The documents were signed before you could walk. You had no say then, and you have no say now. You could never have renounced your destiny, your duty. It is time to do what you are meant to do. You will marry Vincenzo. You will be his Queen. There is no other way, Adela.”

My body goes cold from the inside. A paralysis unlike any other envelops me. My throat seals shut. My heart is pounding hard enough to shatter my ribcages.

I take another step backwards. I need to run.

“If you run, I’ll find you.” Vincenzo drawls darkly, “I’ll always find you. Run, Adela. I dare you. Pray I don’t find you because when I do, you'll have to fall to your knees.”

I’m definitely running.

I palm the knife in my hands and take another step towards the balcony.

“Father is dead,” Enzo announces, his voice cracking.

I look at him in disbelief and laugh, “You’re lying.”

His face tells me he is not.

“W … when?” I whisper, broken.

“He died yesterday.”

Something cracks open in my chest, but I do not have time to fill it. I keep it for later. I will grieve later.

“We all must take responsibility, Adela. I am Don now, and I promise you if you try to run, I’ll have my men slaughter your darling friend’s throat. They’ll run the blade from ear to ear, digging deep until they’ve ruptured her windpipe.” He whispers, colder than ever, and I know he isn’t lying.

Enzo has never lied to me.

Tears blur my vision. My heart shatters into pieces. My knees weaken, and I almost fall to the ground.

Beth. Beth. Beth.

The world tilts.

Every inhale feels like the last as my chest caves in, expands, and my lungs sting like shards of glass are scattered in them.

“Come on, birdy, marrying me won’t be that bad,” Vincenzo chuckles, his accent thicker than his amusement.

I look at the balcony, at a distance, and I know I won’t make it in time to save Beth.

“I have a dress with your name on it. We are getting married now.”

Nausea rushes through me. Bile climbs up my throat.

I did everything right. I let the years pass me by. I kept my head low, and now he is here to claim what belongs to him. I'm not something to be claimed. I'll be his worst mistake.

My skin prickles, and I nod.

He smiles, victorious. The smile of a man who never considered losing.

I let my shoulder drop. I let him read it as a surrender.

I think about the lorry, about the raisins, and the dark. I have been performing compliance for as long as I can remember. I am very good at it.

I hold on to the knife tighter. He won’t see it coming until it’s buried in his neck.