Page 25 of Twisted Devotion

“What did you just say?”

The words hang in the air, heavy and demanding. My breath catches, and I feel the hairs on my neck stand on end. My heart races so fast it’s almost painful, and every nerve in my body feels frayed, chilled by the overwhelming fear.

Nicolas scares the fuck out of me.

But I don’t care. I lift my chin, meeting his gaze head-on.

“I called you a coward,” I say, my voice steady despite the storm inside me. “Because it seems to me like you always want to find the easiest way out of a problem.”

He moves faster than I expect. In a flash, he closes the distance between us, his long strides taking him right in front of me. Before I can react, his body presses against mine, forcing me against the cool wall. His hands brace on either side of my head, caging me in.

“Don’t ever call me that again,” he growls, his breath hot and sharp against my skin.

My legs nearly give out, but I force myself to stand firm, grounding my weight into the wall. “What are you going to do about it?” I snap, my voice sharper than before. That familiar, stupid heat pools between my legs again, and I press my thighs together in a futile attempt to control it.

His eyes narrow, the darkness in them deepening, and a cruel smile twists his lips. “You seem to be enjoying this way too much,bambino.” Without stepping back, he takes a deep breath, his chest rising slowly, then falls with an almost hypnotic calm. When he opens his eyes again, there’s a chilling stillness that seems to dominate his expression.

“You think you’re brave, don’t you?” he asks, his voice cold and razor-sharp. “Your family is nothing without your brother pulling the strings. Without him, you’d just be another spoiled little girl clinging to your dead father’s name, judging everyone else except herself. You don’t even see it—every man you’ve ever known is just like me. Maybe even worse.”

“Don’t you dare talk about my father!” I scream, my voice cracking under the weight of my fury. My hands fly to his chest, my anger fed by the sting of his words. Pain and memories rush to the surface, colliding with my breaths that are coming faster now. My father was the only truly good man I’ve ever known. He was the only person in this world who loved me unconditionally.

“Don’t you ever—” My voice fractures, trembling as I hit him again and again, the words lodged in my throat.

He catches my wrists mid-strike; his grip is unyielding as he pins them to the wall on either side of my head. His face is dangerously close to mine, his voice a low, venomous growl. “You’re mine now,” he says, the words slithering into my ear like a cruel promise.

Before I can react, he presses his knee firmly between my legs, the pressure sending a jolt through my body. My breath hitches, my eyes stinging as I twist and struggle against him, but it’s no use. His voice lowers further, the mocking edge cutting deep. “I’ll make it my mission to remind you daily that you are. That your body belongs to me—and it already knows it.”

“It… it doesn’t. I don’t,” I stammer, but my voice lacks conviction.

He presses his knee harder against me, and I bite down on my lip, desperate to stifle the sound threatening to escape. My body betrays me, ignoring the protests of my mind and responding to every deliberate move he makes.

I can’t even blame Virgin Ghost this time. My head is as clear, my thoughts are screaming at me to resist, but none of it stops the heat pooling in my core. If I hadn’t called him a coward, this entire confrontation would have ended with him walking out of the room.

“You see,” he murmurs, his voice quieter now, almost tender—yet taunting.

Those words twist something inside me, and I hate how my body reacts. The tension between my thighs grows unbearable, and I feel the heat spreading, unstoppable. He lowers his head, his lips grazing my neck in the lightest touch, but it’s enough to send a bolt of electricity racing through me. I gasp softly, my breath hitching, but I refuse to give him more.

“Stop,” I whisper, but the word is fragile, barely audible—barely real.

He kisses my neck again, lingering this time like he’s memorizing the spot where my defenses falter. The place between my ear and my chin becomes his target, and with cruel precision, he presses against me with his knee. The pressure ignites a storm of sensations I can’t control.

A low, unwilling moan escapes me, slipping through my lips before I can stop it. Shame crashes over me in waves, but it’s already too late.

Marco’s words echo in my mind, along with the promise I made to myself: I’m here for a reason. I’m here to get information and play along until this marriage ends. That’s all this is. I repeat it like a mantra, forcing myself to stay grounded.

I stop fighting. I force my body to relax, even though every nerve still tingles from the confrontation. Focus on the bigger picture.

Nicolas pulls back slightly, his dark eyes scanning my face. His chest rises and falls as he takes a deep breath like he’s fighting to regain control. Like I’ve brought him to the edge of something he wasn’t prepared for.

Well, join the line, asshole.

“Get some rest,” he says finally, his voice quieter, more measured now. “I’m taking a shower.”

He releases my wrists and steps away, the warmth of his presence replaced by an almost suffocating emptiness. I don’t move, my chest still heaving from the effort of keeping it together as he strides into the bathroom.

The sound of running water fills the silence that follows, a sharp contrast to the storm still raging inside me.

I stand there for a moment, my heart still pounding like it’s trying to escape my chest. My hands tremble as I lift them to my lips. They’re swollen and tingling, a lingering reminder of him.

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