The Devil's Vow

by Bella J.

  The guests started to clap and cheer, and Gian pulled away, taking my hand. The way he carried himself, even the smile on his face, proved he was well prepared for this moment as if he had been waiting for it his entire life. Just. Like. Me.

  Hand in hand, we turned to face the guests. My parents stood in the first row, my father’s eyes beaming with pride. Or was it victory? My mother merely smiled while Alessa struggled to keep her excitement contained. I tried my best to smile at the guests as we made our way down the aisle. Gian clutched my hand tighter and tighter with every step, and it became increasingly hard to ignore the apprehension that grew heavy inside my chest. But no matter what I felt, how scared I was, to play my part as perfectly as I could was most important.

  We reached the foyer, and I heard my sister’s voice behind us. “Faye.”

  I turned to face her, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “That was beautiful. You are beautiful.” She wrapped her arms around me and hugged me tightly. “I pray you and Gian have a wonderful life together.”

  My heart sank to the soles of my feet, my own tears moments away from slipping free. She leaned back and glanced at Gian over my shoulder. “You take good care of my sister, you hear?” Her eyes found mine again. “She’s one in a million.”

  “Daniela. Gian.” My mother walked up to us with my father at her side. “I just want to wish you two a happy life together, and I pray for a blessed union.”

  Gian nodded, and my mother reached out to pull me in for a hug. Gian let go of my hand as my mother wrapped her arms tightly around my shoulders. “Everything will work out as it should. You’ll see,” she tried to reassure me. “In time, everything will slip into place.”

  I couldn’t respond. I was afraid I might tell both her and my dad to go to hell—an inappropriate thing to say while one stood in the house of God.

  “We need to go.”

  I turned to face Gian, a man I only knew by name and never officially met before today. The day I married him. My frazzled thoughts jumped in every direction, the sharp edges of panic stabbing deep inside my gut. It felt surreal, as if everything that led up to this moment had all been a dream…or a nightmare.

  We reached the limousine, and I struggled to find my breath as the driver opened the passenger side door. He helped gather my gown as I clambered into the limo with a layered wedding dress. The door shut, and I squeezed my body against it as Gian joined me on the back seat.

  I glanced at him, watched as he brushed the delicate confetti from his suit jacket. He let out a breath and leaned back, turning his head toward me with nothing but disdain on his face. I didn’t trust him. I didn’t trust the malicious gleam in his eyes as he studied me without saying a word.

  The silence was excruciating with him focusing his amber eyes on me, and I shifted in my seat, sweat slowly slipping down my spine.

  I caved under the intense pressure of not a word being spoken between a woman in a wedding gown and a man in a tuxedo who found themselves in the most uncomfortable setting in the back of the limousine.

  “I’m Daniela Faye Moretti.” I held out my hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Gian.”

  He glanced from my eyes to my outstretched hand and back up again. There was not a hint of anything other than contempt and dislike as he stared at me.

  “Gian Davide Silvestro,” he replied dryly without taking my hand.

  I wiped my palm down the lace of my dress, my stomach crawling with nerves and unease, the urge to vomit strong as I struggled to keep still and breathe at the same time. I hated the silence. It gnawed at every bone in my body, making an uncomfortable situation even worse. “This is all so—”

  “Let’s get one thing straight, shall we?” he interrupted with a tone as hard as the reality I now faced. “We might be married, but as far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing more to it than a piece of paper that gives you the right to use the Silvestro name.” He ripped the peony boutonniere from his jacket and threw it aside, anger rolling off him in waves that crashed against my chest. “I have no desire for small-talk in a bid to tame the awkwardness between us. It would be futile and a waste of my time. Understood?”

  I raised a brow in disbelief, the memory of the kiss we shared inside the church gone. “So much for trying to make this easier—”

  “Easier?” he blurted. “Oh, believe me, this arrangement will be quite easy and simple. All you need to do is know your place, do as you’re told, and do not cause me or my family any sort of embarrassment.”

  “Embarrassment?” My discomfort instantly morphed into annoyance. “Why on Earth would I embarrass you?”

  He scoffed. “I suppose for someone like you, the options are endless.”

  “Someone like me?”

  He turned to face me, hard lines covering every inch of his face. “You are a Moretti. Your embarrassment is right there flowing through your veins.” He gestured toward my arm. “It’s in your fucking blood.”

  “Screw you.” The words just dropped from my mouth like hot coals, and I regretted it the second I said it.

  His cold eyes and wicked glare forced me to press myself harder against the door as he stretched his arms along the headrest of the seat. His expensive cologne filled the tiny space between us—a scent of black pepper and spice.

  He rubbed his clenched jaw, eyes pensive and cold. “I will assume your outburst is due to a lack of manners and the inexperience of a woman raised without pride. But this is the first and last time I will be so lenient.”

  “Lenient? Oh, my God, this is insane.” I exhaled and leaned back in my seat. I wanted to spit in his face, the chauvinistic asshole who had an ego the size of fucking Texas.

  I let out a breath and braved a glance his way. His glare held nothing but malicious intent, and warning prickled the back of my neck, cautioning me to tread lightly. My feet itched to run. I wanted to tear the wedding dress from my body and run from this entire situation as far as I could. But my father made it clear that if it wasn’t me, it would be Alessa, and I’d rather die than witness the same fate befall her.

  “Once we get to my estate, we’ll discuss the rules.”

  “What rules?”

  He lifted a brow, and his lips curved at the edges. “Mine, of course.”

  It was three simple words, yet it reeked of unspoken threats. But I chose to ignore it and refused to continue the conversation regarding his rules, which was merely a method to intimidate me.

  I cleared my throat. “Just as long as we’re clear, we might be married, but I won’t sleep with you. If you so much as think about touching me—”

  “Then what?” he countered. “You’ll fight me? Scream? Drive a knife through my heart?”

  “That sounds tempting.”

  He scoffed, his eyes filled with amusement. “You are my wife, sold to my family by your father because he managed to make enemies he could not stand against alone.” He inched closer. “You are here because your father is weak and has no son to carry forth the Moretti name. In our world, sons are born to be kings while daughters are bred to be currency.”

  “That is such a sexist thing to say.”

  “Doesn’t make it less true. I own you, Daniela. And if that diamond ring on your finger isn’t enough to prove that, the newfound alliance between our families is.” He shifted closer, his cologne strong and overwhelming. “Your sole duty in life now is to make me happy. So, here’s your first and final warning about how this is going to go. You will live and breathe only to please me. You will obey my every command.”

  “I will never obey you.”

  He let out a maniacal laugh while his hand slithered up my thigh. “Then you should know that the harder you fight me, the more I’ll want to break you.” He inched closer, his vile breath skidding across my cheek. “And I always get what I want.”

  Chapter Four

  After driving for an hour to upstate New York, we finally arrived at the estate. Steel gates welcomed us, two statues of eagles with their wings
spread wide guarding the landscape. Perfectly manicured grass stretched as far as I could see, and round topiary plants stood proud along the path. The large fountain in the middle of the roundabout driveway was a clear indication of their family’s love for everything lavish, and the need to shove their wealth in the rest of the world’s faces.

  I glanced at Gian as his fingers brushed across the keypad of his phone. Even though he looked the part of a sophisticated man born to wear a tailor-made suit, he was all hard edges with an arrogance reflected from his expression. He had pretended to be immersed with whatever business he had on his cell phone ever since we left the church. On the other hand, I had to stare out the window and into the distance the entire time since my lifelong struggle with motion sickness and the added churning of nerves in my gut had me swallowing bile the whole way.

  The car came to a stop, and my passenger side door opened. Climbing out of a vehicle with a wedding dress proved quite the challenge, and I almost landed face first in the dirt if it wasn’t for the helping hand of the man who held the door open for me.

  “Thank you.” I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment, and he nodded politely.

  The grueling New York sun beamed down, its summer rays seeping through my pores, and the leaves of the surrounding white alder trees showed no sign of even the most subtle breeze. I gazed at the Mediterranean style mansion, the oversized, double iron and glass door clearly custom designed to complement the Silvestro vanity.

  Gian stepped in next to me, buttoning his suit jacket.

  “It’s beautiful.” I admired the double-story architecture, a wide balcony stretching along the entire top floor. But Gian ignored my compliment as if he didn’t even hear it, or rather didn’t give a damn about what I thought.

  “Let’s get inside.”

  I hesitated and watched as he walked toward the entrance. I didn’t want to go in. I didn’t want to see what this house looked like because I didn’t want to set foot in it. There were too many uncertainties waiting for me inside those walls, and I wasn’t sure if I would be strong enough to survive it. But as much as I hated being here, I had to keep up my end of the deal. With all the uncertainties regarding my future, there was one thing I knew for sure—my father didn’t make idle threats. If I didn’t do this, he would force Alessa to pay for it.

  I clutched the lace of my wedding dress, lifting the hem from my feet and moved across the cobbled driveway, heels clicking across the stone. Through the imposing front door, I stepped into a dramatic entry foyer separated from the dining area with Tuscan columns. Romer rustic gold marble flooring lay beneath expansive chandeliers, every immaculate detail to the priceless art that decorated the white raison walls. Every inch of the interior was adorned with meticulous craftsmanship, gold elements, and pristine trimmings. The open spaces were enhanced by plenty of natural light coming through large windows with draped curtains. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it.

  An older woman dressed in a beige uniform approached us, and Gian stepped closer. “This is Gabriela. She will show you to your room.”

  I balked for a second and frowned in question. “My room?”

  He placed a hand in his pants pocket and grinned. “Yes, Daniela. Your room. Is there a problem?”

  “No. I just thought—”

  “You thought that since we just walked out of a church as man and wife we’d be sharing a room? A bed? To do what, Daniela? To consummate our marriage?” He took a step toward me, his voice low and stare intense. “To fuck?”

  I swallowed, hardly able to take a breath. “That’s not—”

  “This arrangement,” he bit out between clenched teeth, “is just that. A fucking arrangement.”

  “A business transaction, you mean.” My voice was soft but filled with hatred.

  He paused for a second and straightened, his six-foot-four body and broad shoulders towering over me with a looming threat. “I do not want to be your husband. I do not want to share my home with you. And I sure as hell have no desire to share my bed with you.”

  “Your kiss—”

  “Was nothing but a show. I just gave our guests what they came for. A show.”

  I hardly knew this man, but for some reason his words stung. Especially after that kiss felt like so much more than just a show. But shame on me for reading too much into it.

  I squared my shoulders. “Good. I wasn’t exactly looking forward to sharing a bed with you either.”

  “Great. Now, feel free to settle into your own bedroom and fucking stay there.” His sharp words sliced through the thick atmosphere as he turned on his heel and walked in the other direction as if he couldn’t get away from me fast enough. All he left behind was the echo of his heavy footsteps.

  Gian disappeared around the corner, leaving me in the foyer with Gabriela. As a woman who had to marry a man she didn’t know, I had dreaded this day not just because of the daunting concept of an arranged marriage, but also the knowledge of what was expected on a couple’s wedding night. But for now, it seemed I was spared that duty, which allowed me a moment’s reprieve. Yet I refused to let my guard down by thinking this would be easier than what I had expected. As I’d learned so many years ago, things could change within the blink of an eye, and your life could change, knocked off its axis so nothing made sense anymore.

  “Right this way, Mrs. Silvestro.” Gabriela’s mention of my new name sounded wrong and felt out of place. I wasn’t a Silvestro. I was a Moretti, yet there was a signed and binding document that stated otherwise.

  I followed Gabriela up the spiral staircase, my every step adding more anxiety to the pit of my stomach. The unfamiliar walls were as inviting and welcoming as its owner, the weight on my shoulders increasing with every passing second. If it was any other day under different circumstances, I would have stopped to admire the rustic paintings against the walls or take the time to look at the view from the windows. But all I wanted was to lock myself away and pretend none of this was real. Not even the light through the windows, the beams of white which illuminated the impressive interior design could ward off the dreaded feeling of darkness that loomed over me.

  “This is your room.” Gabriela opened the door, and I followed her in. The click of my heels went from sharp to dull as I stepped from marble onto dark wooden floors. I glanced across the room, the old-world charm accentuated with wooden ceiling beams, luxurious over-sized furniture, and rich, bold colors. Red silk sheets with filigree patterns draped over the king bed, the dark wood headboard carved with an exquisite and delicate design. Accents with colors that ranged from dark orange tones to soft neutral hues decorated the stucco walls. It was like I had stepped from the modern world into the vintage era of Italian style and finery.

  I tried not to gape while admiring the spacious room. “This is incredible.”

  “Mr. Gian has good taste,” Gabriela said with a thick Italian accent and smiled as she watched me admire the room.

  “Um,” I turned and glanced around, “did my suitcases arrive?”

  “Mr. Gian requested your things to be placed in storage. You should find everything you need in the closet.”

  “Excuse me, but—”

  “Dinner will be ready in an hour.” She nodded and walked out, closing the door behind her, and I sighed, wondering why the hell he would have placed my stuff in storage.

  “This is insane.” I exhaled in disbelief, placing my palm against my forehead.

  I walked over to the closet doors, not knowing what to expect, and opened them, revealing a walk-in closet I wouldn’t have been able to imagine in my wildest dreams.

  “Jesus,” I whispered, clutching the doors in my palms, staring out in front of me. Rails of dresses, blouses, and skirts spanned along the wall on the right. Shelves with bags and shoes were lined up to my left, and dark chestnut drawers spanned along the wall across from me. I stepped inside, my mind unable to make sense of what the hell was happening. I moved slowly around the area, subtly touching the fabric as
I passed, brushing my fingertips across the wooden drawers. Everything was color coordinated, tidy, and immaculate. A vintage Italian-style armchair with embroidered gold-leaf fabric was placed in the middle of the area, and I sat down, completely speechless.

  Again, if under different circumstances, I would be in Heaven right now. Many women could only dream of a closet like this with an expansive wardrobe that catered for every season. But given the arrangement I found myself in with Gian Silvestro, I knew not to fall for expensive and pretty things. Just like a firefly that shouldn’t trust the glistening spider’s web, because once you were caught in the middle of it, your fate would be in the poison of a venomous spider.

  “No,” I said to myself. “This is bullshit.”

  I stormed out of the walk-in closet only to come to an abrupt stop as Gian stood in the doorway, clutching a tumbler in his hands. “Settled in?”

  “Hardly. What is this?”

  He stepped in, and I gave him a warning look, the walls closing in with every step he took inside the bedroom. “This is one of the best rooms in my house. I thought it fitting for my wife.” The word slipped from his mouth as if it burned his tongue.

  “I’m talking about the clothes. Where are my things?”

  He shrugged and took a sip of his drink. “I had Gabrielle place your things in storage.”

  “Why?”

  “I wasn’t sure whether you’d have the appropriate things, so I decided to make sure you had an abundance of it. I’d hate to be embarrassed by my wife’s choice in attire.”

  I bit my tongue, the words ‘fuck’ and ‘you’ raging to come out, but I grabbed hold of every shred of self-control I had. “Where is my stuff?”