Claimed

21. The Devil’s Castle

Chapter twenty-one

The Devil’s Castle

The drive to his castle was filled with a silence that had nothing to do with comfort.

Gianni had slipped into what looked like deep thought. The lines of his face were drawn tight, and those usual menacing green eyes were clouded over with a storm of reflections I couldn't decipher.

I found my fingers fidgeting, running over the lustrous fur of the sable coat wrapped around me as I glanced at him sideways, trying to figure out what was going on in his mind.

Unease bloomed within my core, making my stomach knot up.

I knew I should ask, should break the silence and force the issue, but a part of me hesitated. There was something daunting about approaching him in moments like this, when the air between us was thick with unspoken tension.

What if he thinks I will stop dancing because I’m his wife? No. He couldn’t be that crazy.

But then I remembered my brother’s severed hand and him chaining himself to the wall.

Shit. He could be that crazy.

The thought sent a cold chill down my spine, more biting than the wind that had cut through the streets of Obsidian Bay.

I tried to dismiss it—Gianni couldn’t be that unreasonable.

Could he?

That severed hand flashed back into my mind again.

It was a brutal reminder of just how possessive and dangerous men like Gianni could be.

Especially men who were Dons.

Italian mafia men were notorious for their possessiveness, for the way they claimed what they saw as theirs with an iron grip.

And already I could see that Gianni was the personification of that. He was a man who ruled with absolute authority, who controlled everything in his world down to the smallest detail.

Will he expect the same level of control over me?

I swallowed hard and gazed down at the ring on my finger—his dead mother’s ring.

Fuck.

My heart pounded as the car continued its smooth ride up the cliffs.

The thought of giving up ballet—of letting go of the one thing that had always been mine, that had always been my escape, my passion—was unbearable.

It was unthinkable.

Ballet had been my solace, the one constant in a life that had often felt chaotic.

Cruel and uncertain.

The idea that I might have to fight for it now, in this new life with Gianni, made my chest tighten with fear.

No. I can’t let that happen.

I wouldn’t let anyone, not even Gianni, take ballet away from me. I knew what it meant to be strong, to fight for what I loved. I had spent years perfecting my craft, pushing my body to its limits, enduring pain and sacrifice because I thought ballet was worth it.

It was everything to me, and I wouldn’t let it be stripped away just because I had been thrust into his world of shadows and power.

I stopped looking at the ring, fisted my hand, and placed it on my lap.

No way. Fuck that.

I might be married to a Don, but I wasn’t going to let that define me. I wasn’t going to become another one of his possessions, something to be controlled and molded to fit his desires.

I had fought too hard to find my place on that stage as a black ballerina in white spaces, and I would fight just as hard to keep it.

I gazed at him, and he didn’t even look at me.

I bit my bottom lip and put my view back out the window.

Gianni might be powerful, and yes, he might be dangerous, but I wasn’t weak. Not completely. And I damn sure wasn’t going to roll over and let him dictate my life.

I hope this is all in my mind, but if I’m right. . .then I will fight him over this. I won’t back down.

I gazed at the scenery passing by.

The journey took us through the outskirts of Obsidian Bay, where the buildings became sparser, and the streets turned into winding roads.

And slowly, the coastline of Obsidian Bay unfurled before me like a scene from a dream.

The road wound its way along the edge of the cliffs, hugging the rugged terrain as it rose and fell with the landscape.

The ocean was a churning mass of dark turquoise water. Waves crashed against the obsidian rocks below, sending up sprays of white foam that glistened in the fading light.

So beautiful.

The cliffs themselves were jagged and unforgiving, formed from the same black volcanic stone that gave the city its name. They loomed high above the sea, their edges sharp and craggy, as if carved by the hands of ancient, angry gods.

Further off, I spotted the now dormant volcano called, Monte Nero.

The Black Mountain.

It loomed in the distance, its dark, sloping form visible even from the cliffs. The volcano had been inactive for centuries, its last eruption so far back in history that it was almost forgotten.

Almost.

But the people of Obsidian Bay never truly forgot.

They couldn’t.

Not with the myth that surrounded it. It was a story that the locals whispered in hushed tones. Many still believed that Monte Nero wasn’t just a volcano; it was the prison of a vengeful god.

According to the legend that I’d even learned in elementary school, this god had once ruled the land with a fiery temper, causing destruction and chaos wherever he went.

The ancient people, desperate to save their homes and lives, had tricked the god, trapping him within the heart of the volcano and sealing him beneath layers of molten rock and ash.

But the god’s fury didn’t die with his imprisonment. It simmered beneath the surface, waiting, they said, for the right moment to break free.

The last eruption of Monte Nero was said to be his final, desperate attempt to escape. But the people had strengthened the seal and bound him even tighter within the earth.

Now, the volcano slept, and the city had grown around it, thriving in the shadow of the Black Mountain.

As the car climbed higher, the view grew more spectacular, revealing the full majesty of Obsidian Bay.

The city stretched out along Monte Nero with its gothic spires and modern towers.

I looked forward and almost gasped.

Is that his castle?

We turned down a road that was heading right to it.

Oh my God. That must be his.

It was this luxury gothic castle perched high on the cliffs with dark stone walls seamlessly blended with the surrounding black rock.

It was an imposing structure with tall spires and gargoyles.

Wow.

We rode up to massive iron gates that opened instantly.

Near them I spotted two guard booths with heavily armed men.

As the car continued, I looked out over the edge of the cliffs.

Breathtaking.

Below, the beach stretched out in a long, dark ribbon of black sand and rippling turquoise water.

The car began to slow and then stopped right in front of the huge gothic castle.

Just wow. I don’t even know how I will get used to living here. It’s just like the castle in Mom’s drawings.

Two armed men appeared, and one opened the door for me.

I stepped out into the cool air and got a closer look at the castle.

Will this really be my home now?

I swore the walls must have been constructed from the same obsidian stone that gave the city its name. These sinister black stoned walls were massive, surely thick enough to withstand any siege.

And now I could see that it wasn’t just gargoyles on the roof, but demons too. And they watched me.

There were tall windows on the first level and second, but on the third level some windows tapered to fine points at the top and bottom.

The main entrance was a set of massive iron doors, and the gold handles were shaped like serpents, their bodies coiled.

And waiting near the front entrance was the castle's staff, all dressed in crisp, white uniforms. They stood in two perfect rows.

Gianni got to my side and tenderly took my hand. “This is now your castle too.”

I swallowed.

“And you will be the queen, making sure that the staff does what they’re supposed to, and everything is working perfectly.”

“What do I know about managing a castle, Gianni?”

“You will learn.” He lifted my hand to his mouth and kissed my ring finger. “You must.”

I glanced at my ring finger and then back at Gianni with a guarded look in my eyes. He was handsome, but his eyes were as cold as the obsidian walls that surrounded us.

I raised my eyebrows. “Are you angry about something?”

“Not angry, just dreading a conversation that we must have.”

My gut twisted with fear.

“For now, let’s meet your new staff.”

As we headed forward, one by one the staff welcomed me. The butlers and maids bowed deeply, the chef and his assistants greeted me too. Security and management also gave me warm welcomes.

Gianni watched the interactions closely as if he was my personal bodyguard.

All remained respectful and gave me adequate space when they greeted me.

When we reached the doors, they swung open to reveal the grand entrance hall, a massive space filled with chandeliers made of black crystal. White paint covered the walls. The floor was polished white marble.

As Gianni led me further inside, the staff closed ranks behind us and gave me a final bow.

The heavy doors shut with a resounding thud.

I stepped into the grand entrance hall and couldn’t help but gasp. The sheer grandeur of the castle was overwhelming.

I looked back up at those big chandeliers made of black crystal. “Where did you get those?”

“I had them made.”

A servant appeared. “Can I get your coat, Mrs. Fortunato?”

“Oh.” I took it off and then handed it to her. “Here you go. Thank you.”

Gianni took us deeper in the castle.

The hall stretched out endlessly before us, leading to a sweeping staircase that curved gracefully to the upper levels. Every inch of the space screamed wealth and power.

One of his men appeared on the side. “Don Fortunato, the chef wanted you to know that brunch is ready for you both at any time.”

Gianni nodded, and his hand still firmly held mine. “We’ll eat soon, but first, I want to show her around.”

“I’ll tell him, sir.” He left.

Gianni took us off in the opposite direction, leading me through the grand hall and stopped us in front of a pair of large doors.

“This room barely gets used, but I know how much you enjoy reading.” Gianni pushed opened the doors, revealing a massive library that took my breath away.

The walls were lined from floor to ceiling with books. A grand fireplace roared at the far end of the room, flanked by two high-backed leather chairs that looked as though they had been designed for deep thought.

My fingers itched to explore, to pull books from the shelves and lose myself in the world of words, but Gianni tugged me gently away and guided me to a door just next to the library.

“This is my office,” His tone came out guarded.

I turned to step inside, curiosity getting the better of me, but Gianni quickly stepped in front of the door and pulled it shut before I could even glimpse inside.

That startled me. “Why did you do that, Gianni?”

“This is the one place I don’t want you to go for a few days.”

“Why?”

“There are some things in there you don’t need to see just yet.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I said no secrets.”

“And I said give yourself time to get to know me first.”

I frowned.

We continued through the castle, and just as I thought we were heading upstairs, Gianni stopped and turned to me. “Before we go up, there’s something I want to show you outside. Perhaps. . .that will make our difficult discussion much easier.”

“O-kay.” I followed him out through a side door that featured this sprawling garden and. . .something else.

Hold on.

The sight that greeted me made me stop in my tracks.

In the center of the garden, a large structure was being built. Men and women appeared to be putting up a stage.

Gianni watched me. “Do you understand now?”

“Understand what?”

“They’re building you a stage.”

“So I can practice here?”

“And perform.”

“And perform. . .” I turned back to the stage. “What does that mean?”

“I know how much ballet means to you. From now on, this is the only place you will dance.”

I put my view back on him and stared. “What?”

“This is where you will dance.”

“Why are you telling me where I will dance?”

“Because in the boutique today I swore you told the saleswoman that you would be in that ballet next week—”

“Because I will. I told you that last night—”

“And I said that we would discuss that today—”

“There’s nothing to discuss, Gianni.” So aggravated, I let go of his hand. “And. . .I don’t understand why you don’t get that.”

His expression hardened. “You’re still learning me, but you will find that I will be very possessive of you—”

“What does that have to do with ballet?”

“Other men can see you dance.” And then he gestured to the stage. “But here, you can dance as much as you want for me, and no one will die because of it.”

I stepped back from him. “Die?”

“Your ballet, the one where you are a Vampire Queen, I’ve seen videos of the rehearsals, men touch you—”

“How did you get footage of the rehearsals—”

“I can get whatever the fuck I want in this city, and you’re very lucky that I didn’t do what I wanted and have those men killed. I waited.”

This cold chill ran through me.

“I remained patient and calm.” He narrowed his eyes. “And now you belong to me.”

“My life will not change because—”

“It will—”

“You cannot keep me locked away in this castle—”

“You will have a key.”

I took another step back. “I will be dancing in that ballet and other ones.”

He closed the distance between us and leaned forward. “You will not.”

His tone was final, leaving no room for argument, but the rebellion in me refused to back down.

“I will.”

Our gazes locked.

He glared. “I’ve seen pictures of you with the director. I believe her name is Melanique Sanchez?”

“Yes.”

“I will never hurt you. Never put my hand on your body in a way that means anger or violence, but others. . .well. . .they will not be safe.”

I trembled. “What the fuck are you saying?”

He leaned in closer until our noses almost touched. “You fucking leave this castle to dance for this Melanique, and I will slice her flesh into strips and hang her in front of the entrance of that theater.”

I slapped him.

Hard.

I didn’t even know what had made me react that way.

Was it because he was so close to me?

Perhaps, it was because I was so mad that he would threaten Melanique, someone I cherished and needed to protect.

Someone who was absolutely kind and innocent.

But I slapped him.

Very fucking hard.

Dear God!

My hand connected with the side of his face, leaving a bright red imprint on his skin.

Gianni's head had turned with the force of my slap, but he did not stagger or step back. Instead, he slowly lifted his hand to his cheek and turned his gaze back on me.

Oh. . .shit.

For a moment, there was silence between us.

The only sounds were the occasional hammering from the stage being built and the distant trilling of birds hidden in the garden.

And for a brief second, I saw a hint of surprise flash across his face. But it was quickly replaced with that icy resolve I had seen moments earlier.

My heart pounded in my chest.

Well. . .he’s going to either kill me or cut my hand off.