Claimed

5. Meeting the Devil

Chapter five

Meeting the Devil

The car jolted to a stop, jerking me awake from the haze of pain and fear that had clouded my mind. My body ached. My throat was still raw from Vito's choking grip.

Where am I? What is going on? Oh wait. I remember.

I was being forced to marry a monster.

The Devil in fact.

The crushing weight of reality bore down on me.

Suffocating and relentless.

All avenues of escape were blocked, leaving me gasping for air in a desperate struggle against its unyielding grip.

But I refused to give in, determined to find a way out no matter the cost.

Maybe I could jump out of the car and make a run for it. I just need to clear my head.

Before I could fully orient myself, the car door was yanked open, and Vito’s rough hand clamped down on my arm, dragging me out with a force that left no room for resistance.

Damn it.

The harsh chill of the night air slapped me in the face.

And poor Melanique. Did they even tell her? There had to be witnesses of my stepfather kidnapping me.

Either way, I hoped the ballet didn’t suffer due to this.

She’d worked too hard for that to happen.

Fucking assholes!

I stumbled out of the vehicle. My legs trembled beneath me. “Let go of me!”

My stepfather spoke up ahead. “Unfortunately, we do not have the time. Gianni has been waiting, and. . .not even I want to have him waiting.”

“Move.” Vito shoved me forward.

My feet faltered on the cobblestone pavement, and I glanced down at my ridiculous attire—the black and red rubied vampire queen costume, complete with the flared skirt and crimson ballet pointe shoes.

Maybe, the devil will see what I’m wearing, laugh and send me away.

I wobbled forward a little. The delicate ballet pointe shoes on my feet, with their satin ribbons and stiff toe boxes, were not meant for long-term walking.

They were designed for graceful movements on the dance floor, to elevate and support. In fact, the thin soles offered little protection against hard surfaces and rough terrain, making them unsuitable for anything other than their intended purpose.

To wear them for extended periods of time would be a painful and impractical feat.

Yet, here I was being dragged down the fucking street in them.

The shoes pinched my feet with every step.

The satin ribbons dug into my skin.

And the irony of the situation was not lost on me. I was dressed as a creature of the night, but in reality, I was the prey, not the predator.

In no time, the sight of a luxurious hotel appeared before us.

It was all sophistication and opulence.

The exterior was adorned with elegant, veined stone. Ivory vines snaked their way up the walls. Even the rooftop was not spared from lavish embellishments. Large gargoyles perched on its edges like demonic sentinels guarding the hotel's luxurious secrets.

My heart pounded in my chest as Vito led me up the stone staircase to the entrance.

And because he was an absolute asshole, he sang low next to me, “Here comes the bride. Here comes the bride.”

“Fuck you.” I bared my teeth in a feral snarl, desperately trying to wrench my arm away from his unyielding grip. My muscles strained and burned with the effort, but of course the psycho’s grasp was a steel band on my arm.

“You’re lucky Father stopped me because you know better to say that to me.” Vito tightened his grip, crushing my flesh and probably leaving behind a another sickly brownish-purple bruise as a mark of his dominance.

That sent me over the edge.

As we headed up the steps, I fought against him with every ounce of my being.

I hurled my body weight to the side, throwing him off balance.

We both lost our footing on one step and I almost twisted my ankle.

My stepfather grabbed my other arm. “Enough!”

Vito regained his balance. “It’s this bitch who is doing it.”

“That’s your sister. Do not call her that.”

A delirious laugh left me. “Apparently, because I’m only his half-sister, he can not only call me a bitch, but he can rape me.”

My stepfather widened his eyes, yet went silent.

“You’ve raised quite a man, Father . You should be so proud.”

Vito helped his father shove me up the rest of the steps. “She’s lying.”

“Oh. I’m lying. So, you weren’t dry humping my butt in the dressing room—”

“That’s enough.” My stepfather’s bottom lip quivered. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Mom is glaring at you from heaven. Did you ever really love her?”

He turned away.

We reached the top of the wide stone steps, the massive double doors of the hotel swung open, revealing the lobby.

Marble floors glinted under the bright chandeliers. Gold swirly designs adorned the walls. Tall ivory pillars with gold leaf moldings stood next to plush gold couches.

Expensive perfume and the scent of fresh flowers rode the air as the sound of people chatting mingled with the elegant music playing from hidden speakers.

Several men and women strolled by. Most glanced at my costume and whispered to themselves. Other people milled about the entrance—well-dressed patrons and staff alike. Their eyes followed me as I was dragged through the doors.

“Hey!” I called to one large man. “These guys are kidnapping me! Call the cops!”

My stepfather shook his head. “She’s mentally insane. You see what she’s wearing. Right?”

“No! I’m a ballerina!”

Some stared with curiosity, others with pity, but none of them dared to intervene.

It probably didn’t help that over fifty of my stepfather’s armed men followed behind us.

No normal person would intervene.

Dread hit me.

My stepfather spoke, “Gianni should be in the ball room where the wedding will be—”

“Jesus Christ.” I shivered. “I do not want to do this—”

“I said enough—”

“I don’t care what you said—”

“It is going to happen, Bella. Just accept it.”

“I’ll never accept it.”

“Be quiet; people are looking.” He hissed, but I didn’t care.

A fresh surge of determination surged through me.

“I’m being kidnapped!! Call the cops! They’re making me marry some guy I don’t know!”

People rushed away.

“This is a kidnapping! Just do an anonymous tip!”

Vito snickered. “We have police in our pockets, and whatever cops we don’t have, Gianni surely owns them.”

As we moved deeper into the hotel, the crowd thinned out, and I became aware of soft murmuring voices and the tinkling of glasses from behind a pair of tall, grandiose doors.

Oh no. This is where it is.

My heart dropped a beat faster with each step we took towards them.

I shoved and fought.

Vito tightened his grip on my arm. Another man got on my side, not grabbing me, but surely intending to catch me if I ran off.

Damn it.

We approached the doors. It felt like walking towards my execution and I couldn't take it any longer.

This is the last chance to make a run for it.

“I can walk myself,” I said through gritted teeth, trying to wrench my arms from their grasp. “Let me go so I can walk in with respect.”

Soon as you let me go, I’m running out of here!

Everyone ignored me.

Fine. I’ll run during the goddamn ceremony. Right as the Reverand says, “Do you take. . .” I’m fucking out of there.

We arrived at the imposing double doors.

My stepfather’s men opened them.

I tensed.

The grand ballroom was even more breathtakingly luxurious than the lobby. It was a true vision of extravagance. Crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceilings. Large windows let in streams of moonlight. Red velvet curtains draped the walls.

At the center of the room, a long table was adorned with silver candelabras, delicate China, and crystal glasses.

And near it were men and women dressed in elegant gowns and suits.

Large ivory vases of fragrant flowers stood in every corner of the massive ballroom.

Everyone had been chatting and talking, but it all stopped when we entered the room and they turned our way.

Holy fuck.

And despite the beauty around me, more dread coiled in my stomach, tightening with each step that brought me closer to the center of the room where a large man stood, radiating a terrifying power.

But was it even fair to call him a man?

He was a damned giant.

Very tall.

Well over 6’5.

In fact, he could have been seven feet.

He was younger than I thought he would be, early 30s for sure.

His muscular frame was clad in black designer pants that fit him like a second skin. He wore a midnight black suit and a blood-red tie that actually. . .matched my costume.

What the fuck?

The color combination struck me immediately—together, we looked like a twisted pair, a Vampire Ballerina Queen meeting her Mafia Devil King.

Is that. . .Gianni? No. It couldn’t be.

I swallowed hard.

Vito loosened his hold on me and my stepfather slowed our steps.

And the closer we got, the more I took in his flawless features, the chiseled jaw, the dark black hair that fell slightly over his forehead, and the cold, piercing green eyes that seemed to see right through me.

Even crazier. . .he looked familiar, but I couldn’t place where I’d seen him before.

Still a shiver of recognition slithered down my spine.

This is the Devil of Shadows?

He looked more like an angel.

In fact, I hated to admit it, but for a fleeting moment, I was taken aback by his beauty—the way his mere presence alone not only commanded the entire room but had my stepfather and even Vito chilling out.

In fact, Vito’s hand on my arm shivered.

Dear God. How insane is he?

We came to a screeching halt just four feet away from him.

My stepfather let go of me, yet Vito kept his grip on my arm.

Meanwhile, Gianni’s gaze took in my now absurd ballerina costume and the bright red pointe shoes strapped tightly to my feet.

He must think I’m fucking insane. Well. . .good. . .let him think that. I’ll play crazy to get out of this.

Gianni continued to take me in and didn’t speak. And due to him not saying anything, I was pretty sure that was why everyone else kept their mouths closed too.

His gaze leisurely traced a path from my face, down my neck, and over my collarbone, lingering on each curve and dip of my body. I could feel the heat of his gaze like a warm caress as it traveled downwards, taking in every inch of me.

Goosebumps rose on my skin in response to the intensity of his stare.

And I hated to realize this, but his attention was both unnerving and intoxicating, making me acutely aware of my own physical presence.

He’s the fucking devil. Never forget it.

But, wasn’t the devil in the Bible alluring too?

I had never been particularly religious, but I remembered enough from childhood stories and half-forgotten sermons to recall the descriptions of Lucifer—the fallen angel.

He wasn’t some grotesque, horned creature as many depictions would have people believe.

No, the devil was said to have been beautiful—extraordinarily so. His appearance was designed to captivate, to draw people in with the promise of something greater, something irresistible, only to lead them into ruin.

And as I looked at Gianni, it was impossible not to draw the same comparison.

Yes. He is the devil. Indeed.

He was a man whose beauty could ensnare even the wariest, whose very presence demanded attention and obedience.

He was the kind of man who could make me forget who he really was beneath that flawless exterior—a monster in disguise.

The thought sent a shiver down my spine and fear twisted inside me, cold and sharp. But there was something else too—something far worse. A wicked pull, a dark fascination I couldn’t explain.

He was a monster, I knew that.

But even monsters could be beautiful.

I just had to remember and never forget that the devil—no matter how alluring—was still the devil.

Gianni lifted his view back to my face.

I blinked.

Why isn’t he saying anything?

His expression was unreadable, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Okay. What happens next?

Gianni raised one eyebrow and his gaze shifted to Vito’s hand on my arm, and that was when I saw it—the briefest flash of something brutally dark and heart-stoppingly dangerous.

A sneer curled the corner of his mouth.

I widened my eyes.

When Gianni spoke, his voice was smooth and low, but there was an underlying edge to it that sent a goddamn earthquake of shivers through me.

It was the venomous snake's murderous hiss before attack.

It was the rumbling growl from a wild animal getting ready to rip apart its prey and devour.

“Vito.” The single word dripped with quiet menace. Gianni didn’t need to raise his voice—the promise of violence was already there, simmering beneath the surface. “Keep touching her, and I’ll make you wish for death.”