Page 69 of Deal with the Devil
“Anyway,” he sighs. “You better tread carefully. Because whether you betray Don Vito’s wishes… or Rafael’s… it won’t end well for you.”
The town car rolls to a slow stop as we finally reach the iron gates outside the Bellucci estate. We’re waved through by the sentries at the front.
Anthony goes back to savoring his cigar, and I’m left fuming in silence. He gets the last word this time, riding through the gates triumphantly, but it won’t be for long that he gets to boast.
And when the time comes, I’ll make sure he knows to never fucking talk to me like that again.
Rain slides down the windows in slow, meandering rivulets. Beyond the pane, the garden and olive groves are pitch-dark this time of night.
The rest of the house is silent. Most of the Belluccis have vanished for one reason or another, leaving me and the staff to our own devices.
I stand alone in my bedroom, the air thick with woodsmoke from the fireplace. I’m admiring the rainy landscape as I prepare myself for the evening that lies ahead.
Tonight, I take back what’s mine.
Not just control, butdominion—the complete and final command of my mind, my family, my empire, and the woman who’s thrown it all off balance. If I’ve lost myself with her, even for a moment, then I’ll claim her now onmyterms.
Not as he would, with sentiment and longing and that festering ache he calls love, but as Il Diavolo. The one who sets the rules. The one who uses and discards. The one who owns and dominates, destroying beautiful things like her.
But as I stare into the glass, it’s not my reflection that meets me.
It’shis.
Dark eyes, gleaming with the same amusement as ever. Dark hair, neatly combed away from his face. Handsome features that often charm and draw women wherever he goes. His jaw is set but relaxed.
I know that face. I've seen it enough in mirrors, in photographs, in the reflections of water whenever I’ve dared remove the mask.
He always stares at me like I’m the trespasser. I’m the intruder.
I’mthe one who’s not real, who’s stolen from him, and not the other way around.
“You’ll never take over,” I grumble, barely above a whisper.
Then louder comes his answer, rolling off my own fucking tongue in the worst betrayal.
I answer myself.
“Yes, I will. I will always take it back from you. Because it’s my life, not yours.”
The words snap at me like a lash from a whip. I step back from the window, suddenly husking out ragged breaths. My hands clamp over my face as if it’ll keep him from showing himself again.
But it doesn’t do a damn thing.
He’s inside me—bubbling to the surface, heat rising as it becomes more difficult to think.
I can feel him clawing his way out. He’s trapped in the same dark pit where I’ve spent so long. But he’s climbing out, growing stronger, pushing to invade my mind again.
Let me out. Let me out right now.
I grit my teeth and hold on, digging my nails into my scalp. They drag down into my hairline with enough pressure to sting.My breath catches, chest rising and falling as I fight back against his efforts, forcing his presence back into the pit where he belongs.
It’s my fucking turn now.
Mine… mine… MINE!
I would sooner burn the entire fucking house down with both of us inside than ever let him come forward again.
The rage pulses hot through my veins, thickening behind my eyes, roaring in my ears?—
