Daddy's Little Secret

I shot my mafia husband on our wedding night... only to find myself in the Devil's bed right after.

I let the gun slip from my fingers, dropping slowly to the marble floor.

Then stumbled backwards slowly, finding it hard to believe that I actually did it.

I stared at Marco's lifeless body laying on the altar with a bloody hole between his eyes.

The arranged pastor, Marco's gang members, the small crowd… they all remained still.

Then…

"Serena!"

I heard Luca yell from the other side of the room. The man who'd joined to build my hell in the last three years, my supposed-to-be brother-in-law.

Bullets followed right after, tearing through the lights and chairs.

The crowd scattered, Luca’s men fired at everything. I knew I didn't have much time left.

I kicked my heels off and turned as quickly as I could, sprinting down the aisle.

I gripped the five-million-dollar diamond necklace around my neck as I ran… the only gift of his I'll be keeping.

I ran as fast as my legs and the gown could permit, staring at the wooden door not far ahead… my only escape route.

BANG!

A bullet shattered the glass window to my left. Then another crashed into the wall by my side. They kept firing as I felt them getting closer.

I pulled a table down on my way, hoping to put as much space as possible between us.

A bulled fired the wall to my side just as I reached the large wooden door.

I pushed and burst through the door as another shot went through the frame.

There was no time. I shut the door quickly with all the available locks. That should buy me some time.

My mind went blank for a second, washed by my heavy breathing. I felt numb, my body felt numb… the room around me kept spinning.

I pushed on, not exactly excited to die tonight. I raked through my memory—three rights, two lefts, straight to the hidden exit.

"She's in the here!" Luca barked from behind the door.

Ten seconds.

I ran, slamming into a steel door at the end of the trail.

“Shit,” I cursed as I fumbled with the rusted latch. It wouldn't budge. I began panicking.

I banged, punched, kicked, yelled, but it didn't budge. There was no hope.

BANG! BANG!

I heard bullets going through the door before I heard his voice again. “Down here!”

They kept firing and I kept banging the large door. Suddenly, a sharp pain shot up from my calf—I'd been hit.

"Fuck!" I pounded the door harder, tears quickly blurring my vision.

Just when I lost hope—strong hands grabbed me from behind, pulling me to the side.

I screamed, twisting violently, using my diamond ring to slice through it's flesh. But the grip didn't budge a bit.

A deep, ragged voice cut through my little fit. "Stop fighting, piccola. You're making this harder than it needs to be."

I froze. That voice. I'd heard it once before—not sure, maybe months ago.

At Marco's casino. The man who he kept taking orders from, the man who kept staring at me through the night.

Dante Russo. The Devil of Chicago, and Marco's boss.

His grip tightened, spinning me to face him. Even with the pain through my legs and the anxiety all over… his presence still felt suffocating.

Six-foot-four of pure muscle and big trouble. His custom Tom Ford suit looked untouched despite the chaos. His cologne filled my senses, distracting my thoughts.

"You're bleeding," he said with his eyes dropping low. His thumb brushed off the trickling down my thigh.

"Get away from me!" I yelled and shoved his chest, but it was no good, he didn't budge.

His lips curved into a dangerous smile. "You killed my second-in-command on his wedding night, Serena. Do you know what that costs?"

Behind us, Luca's footsteps thundered closer. Dante's eyes never left mine as he drew a gun from his jacket and pressed the barrel against my forehead.

I felt it—the cold metal against my skin. There was no remorse in his eyes.

"Here's the deal," he murmured in an intimidating voice that sent shivers through me. "You come with me now, or I empty your insides right here. Shame if I had to, would be a waste of a pretty face."

BANG!

A bullet whizzed past our side from behind me. But Dante didn't flinch. He cocked the gun to my head.

Ten seconds to decide between death or the devil.

"Choose!" He commanded.

My heart thundered, everything was happening way too fast. I could still remember Marco's face before I shot him, the image of his bloodied face may never leave my mind.

I could taste freedom, but Dante's eyes promised something worse than death… but do I really have a choice at this point?

"Yes," I whispered.

He smirked. "Yes, what?"

The footsteps grew louder from behind me. Luca was seconds away.

"Yes, I'll go with you," I choked out.

"Good girl." He lowered the gun, grabbed my wrist, and yanked the steel door open with one push.

We emerged at a back alley where a blacked-out Escalade sat idle. The engine kept purring loudly. Two men in suits stood waiting, neither of them smiling.

Dante shoved me towards them. "Get her in. Clean her up."

Rough hands grabbed me. I struggled, kicking and clawing, but there was no use, they were all made of stone.

Within seconds, I was inside the SUV, the leather seats felt cool against my torn dress.

Dante slid in beside me after a few seconds. His thigh pressed against mine as he nodded towards the driver.

The car sprang forward, moving too fast.

I lunged forward, nearly falling over before turning my eyes to him.

"Where are you taking me?" I asked as I steadied myself.

He didn't answer. Instead, he pulled out his phone, dialing with his bloodstained fingers.

"Luca," he said calmly when it connected. "She's with me. The situation is... contained."

There was a pause. Then Luca's furious scream exploded through the speaker. "DANTE, THAT BITCH KILLED MARCO!"

"I know," Dante replied. Then turned his eyes to mine. "And now she's mine."

He hung up and sent his gaze over my body like I was some sort of item. "You have no idea what you've started, Serena Moretti," he said softly. "But you're about to learn."

The SUV swerved onto the highway, breaking into the calm city like nothing ever happened. My leg throbbed with pain, my hands kept shaking.

And Dante Russo… he dropped a hand possessively over my thigh, inches from the bullet wound.

I had escaped one monster... only to land in the jaws of the Devil himself.