Married To The Devil’s Heir

It was bright in the ballroom, and there was laughter and music, and people were clothed in costly attire. There were smiles all around, and wine, and pretending to have a good time. Isabella Romano stood by one of the tables, holding a glass of champagne, trying not to roll her eyes at how mock everything seemed. They were always the same parties. Old men boasting about money, women showing off their jewels, and her father playing the part of king of the night.

She’d come because she’d had no choice. Besides, if Marco Romano commanded his daughters to show up, they showed up. No questions asked. Isabella had just chopped off her hair and wheeled out in a long red dress her mother had selected, and despite the fact that she didn’t much care about fashion right now, she looked good, she allowed herself to think.

Her little sister Sofia was at her side, looking pale and nervous. “Bella,” Sofia murmured, “are you aware if Papa will miss if I leave early?”

Isabella smiled faintly at her. “You know he will. Don’t even try it. Just smile and look pretty. That’s all he wants.”

Sofia sighed and popped her head, nodding, pushing some of her happy ass brown hair out of her ear. She was always so much gentler and tenderer than Isabella. Where Isabella was obstinate, Sofia was softer.

A small clutch was in their mother, Lucia’s, hand as she walked up to them. “Girls, behave yourselves tonight,” she whispered. “Your father has important guests.”

“Important guests?” Isabella repeated. "Not every year. The very same excuse. Again. Who do we have to impress this time?"

Lucia shot her a warning look. "Please, Isabella, do not start."

Just as she wanted to respond, the Hall went quiet, and Isabella's father, Marco Romano, climbed to the stage. Everyone in the room fell silent as he lifted the champagne glass. His deep, solemn voice reverberated throughout the music hall.

"Ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for joining us tonight. On this evening of celebration, family, and future partnerships."

Isabella exchanged a glance with her sister. Future partnerships—that never meant anything good.

"I would like to make an announcement. My daughter Sofia Romano is to be married to Adrian Vescovi."

There was polite clapping coming from around the room, but Isabella was frozen in place. She looked at Sofia’s face, which turned pale in shock. Her lips were trembling, and her eyes were as big as plates.

"What?" she whispered, clutching her sister’s hand.

"I didn’t know, Bella. I swear I did not know."

But the anger in her chest only grew stronger. Before anyone knew it, she was storming off the table towards her father.

"What the hell was that?" she hissed, pulling him away from the crowd and into a dark corner.

"What the hell was that, Papa?"

"Lower your voice." He hushed

"No. What the hell was that? You just announced Sofia’s engagement as if she was some kind of—you didn’t even ask her! She doesn’t love him. She doesn’t even know him.”

“This is not about love,” Marco said coldly. “This is about family. About business. About keeping peace.”

Isabella clenched her fists. “You can’t do this to her. She’s only twenty-four; she has a life—”

“And I have a duty,” Marco interrupted. “You will not question me on this. Your sister will marry Adrian. End of discussion.”

Sofia had walked closer, her eyes filling with tears. “Papa, please,” she begged softly. “I don’t want to marry him.”

Marco glared at them both. “You will do as I say. Both of you. Do not embarrass me tonight.”

Lucia hurried over, sensing the tension. “Please, Marco, maybe we can discuss this tomorrow—”

“No,” Marco cut her off.

“The decision has been made.” With that he turned and walked away, leaving the three of them standing there in shock.

Sofia covered her face with her hands and whispered, “I can’t do this, Bella. I can’t.”

Isabella hugged her sister tightly. “Don’t worry. I won’t let him do this to you.”

Isabella was unable to enjoy anything for the remainder of the evening. The guests tried to speak to her, but she ignored them. She disregarded the food. She pretended nothing was wrong, ignoring her father's proud smile. All she wanted to do was get out.

Later, she left the hall when the crowd had become distracted and when she felt suffocated. The air outside was quieter and colder. She took a cigarette out of her tiny purse and lit it. She rarely smoked, but she needed it tonight.

She took a slow drag while leaning against the stone wall. She sensed it at that moment. a presence. She was being watched. She looked up and saw him. A tall man wearing a well-tailored black suit. Sharp jaw, dark hair, and eyes that seemed like they could cut through her

He wasn’t smiling. He didn’t need to. His aura screamed danger, power, and something else she couldn’t explain.

Dante Moretti De Luca. She knew the name even if they had never met before. Il Diavolo. The Devil.

He didn’t move closer at first, just watched her. She shifted uncomfortably and looked away, pretending to focus on her cigarette.

Finally, he spoke. His voice was deep and smooth but heavy. “You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

Isabella turned her head. “And why is that?”

“Because men like Adrian are inside,” Dante said simply.

Her chest tightened. “And you’re different?”

His lips curved slightly. “Much worse.”

For some reason, that didn’t scare her the way it should have. She took another drag, trying to act calm, though her heart raced.

Before she could respond, she heard footsteps. Adrian Vescovi. He approached her with a sly smile, fiddling with his cufflinks as if he owned the place.

"There you are," Adrian said with ease.

"All night long, I have been searching for you."

Isabella stood up, glaring at him. "I don't want to speak with you."

Adrian chuckled, the sound filled with something she couldn't pinpoint. "Yes, but you will. You will soon become a member of my family. You might as well become accustomed to my presence."

Her stomach churned. "That isn't taking place. My sister..."

Adrian interrupted, before she could finish

"Your sister is weak. You're stronger, Isabella. More intelligent. More appropriate. I would choose you if I could.

His breath brushed her ear as he leaned in closer. “And maybe I still will.”

Isabella froze, her chest heaving with disgust. His hand touched her arm and tightened its hold as she attempted to pull away.

A voice thundered behind her before she could say anything.

"Release her."

Adrian tensed as he let her go slowly. The tension was as sharp as a knife as the two men gazed at one another.

With his eyes blazing into Adrian's, Dante took a step forward.

"I'll break every bone in your body if you touch her again."