The Devil's Vow: A Curse in White Lace

This wedding was supposed to be my sister's.

I never imagined I'd be the one standing at the altar, wearing a white dress that feels more like a prison than a sign of happiness. There's no joy here. No love. Only pressure, threats, and the dangerous man who's now my husband.

Nolan Piquete.

Italy's most feared mafia boss. Cold. Cruel. Merciless.

I should have run like my sister did. Left everything behind. But instead, I stayed. Now I'm trapped in his huge, intimidating mansion. The room I'm in feels more like a cage. The dark red walls look like they're covered in blood, the dim lights cast creepy shadows, and in the middle stands a massive bed that feels like the symbol of my downfall.

The door behind me shuts with a click that sounds more like a sentence than a sound.

I turn around.

Nolan stands there, staring at me. His eyes are sharp, like he's swallowing me whole. I can feel his power, and it makes my chest tighten.

He steps closer. The sound of his footsteps fills the silent room. I don't move, but my whole body goes stiff as he stops right in front of me.

Suddenly, he reaches out. His cold fingers touch my hand gently. He loosens my tight grip, then laces his fingers through mine.

"Let's get one thing straight, my little toy," he says in a deep, sharp voice that sends chills down my spine. "You'll do what I say. When I say it."

I swallow hard. Am I scared? A little. But more than that, I feel like I've stepped into a dark romance novel.

I tighten my fingers and look him in the eye. "I'm not your toy."

Nolan smirks, dangerously. His eyes roam over my body like he owns it.

"You're my wife," he says slowly. His voice leaves no room for argument. "Of course you're mine to play with."

I want to shout, to say something back, but before I can speak, his eyes change. They go darker. Sharper.

"Answer my question," he says, colder now.

I freeze.

His jaw tightens, his face hardens, and he growls low in his throat.

"Are you still a virgin?"

My heart skips a beat.

"I'll ask again," he says slowly, demanding. "Are you a virgin?"

I feel frozen, caught in his dark gaze.

"You have no right to ask me that!" I yell. I stand my ground, my chest tight. Nolan's eyes don't move from mine. His smirk is full of possession, and it triggers even more scenarios in my mind.

"Oh? And why not?" His voice is low, challenging. "You're my wife. That means you're mine. I'll do whatever I want with you."

I clench my fists, trying to stop myself from lashing out. Nolan smiles wider, clearly enjoying every reaction I give him. Calmly, he starts unbuttoning his shirt, revealing his muscular chest, covered in scars and tattoos. He's not just a rich, powerful man-he's a fighter too.

I look away, trying to ignore how he takes control of the whole room just by being in it. Without saying anything, I turn and walk into the bathroom, letting my calm steps be my only answer.

As soon as I close the door, I take a long breath. I lean against the wall, eyes closed for a moment. It's only the first night, but it already feels like I've been fighting a war.

I turn on the water and let it run over me, trying to calm down. My hands tremble when they touch my skin-not from fear, but from anger. Angry at the situation. Angry at my family.

After a few minutes, I shut off the water and grab a towel. I change into some pajamas-somehow already hanging by the sink-and look at myself in the mirror. I won't let myself become just a pawn in this game.

Taking a steady breath, I open the door and step back out.

Nolan is standing at the bedroom doorway, casually leaning against the frame, but his eyes are sharp, watching every move I make.

"Feeling cozy tonight, mi juguete?" he says in his deep, rough voice, the Italian accent making the words sound even more dangerous.

I don't answer. I just walk past him, get into bed, and stare at him with a blank expression.

My jaw tightens as the words echo in my head. Mi juguete. His little toy.

I glare at him. "Stop calling me that."

Nolan just gave a crooked smile, like he found my anger amusing. He stepped closer, lowering himself until our faces were level.

"Why not?" he whispered, voice smooth like a tease-but his eyes said something darker. "It suits you."

I clenched my fists. "I'm not your toy, Nolan. I don't belong to you."

He raised an eyebrow, like he was daring me to prove it. "You're my wife. That's more than enough to make you mine."

I scoffed, frustration bubbling up inside me. "A wife you forced into marriage. That doesn't make me yours. And I'll never submit to you."

Nolan chuckled, a low sound that echoed in the room. He reached up and gently tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear-a move that should've felt intimate, but instead felt like a reminder: he was always in control.

"You can fight me all you want," he said quietly, his tone calm but chilling. "But I wonder... how long can you keep it up?"

I smacked his hand away, hard. I stared him down.

He just laughed again, softly, like he was enjoying every second of this tension. "I like your fire," he said, leaning lazily against the bedpost. "But you'll learn, sweetheart. Sooner or later."

He picked up the shirt he'd tossed aside and walked casually across the room-like he'd just won something.

I glared at his back. "Don't get too confident, Piquete."

He paused and glanced over his shoulder with a knowing smirk. "We'll see."

My fists clenched under the blanket. This game might have just started, but one thing was clear-I wasn't going to let Nolan Piquete win without a fight.

...

The room felt too quiet.

I sat at the edge of the bed, letting the silence wrap around me. My thoughts were racing, trying to make sense of all this.

I had just married a dangerous man-not just rich or powerful, but a Spanish mafia boss known for his cruelty.

And now he was here, in the same room.

I could feel his eyes on me before I even looked up. Nolan was leaning against the bathroom doorframe, still wearing that smug expression.

"Feeling cozy, mi juguete?" His deep voice had that rough Italian-Spanish accent, making it sound even more dangerous.

I snorted. "Stop calling me that."

He raised an eyebrow like he was testing me. "Why not? You're my wife. That makes you mine." There it was again-his favorite line.

I folded my arms. "Just because we're married doesn't mean you own me."

He didn't answer right away, but a smirk played on his lips. He walked slowly toward me, and in seconds, he was right in front of me. I refused to back down, even though my instincts screamed at me to run.

"You don't get it, do you?" he murmured, his voice low and intense. "The second you said 'I do'... you gave up the right to say no to me."

I smirked right back. "Oh yeah? I'd say the same goes for you."

Nolan narrowed his eyes, clearly trying to figure out what I meant. Then I stood up, facing him directly, making sure he saw I wasn't afraid.

"You want me to bow to you? Too bad-I'm a dark romance addict. I know how this game works."

He gave a short laugh, like I'd said something ridiculous.

I glared, then pulled the blanket tighter around myself, hoping the night would pass quickly and morning would come.

...

The night dragged on. I still couldn't sleep.

Eventually, I sat on the edge of the bed, playing with the edge of the blanket and glancing at the sofa across the room where Nolan was sitting. He looked relaxed, but I knew he was still watching me.

"You're not going to sleep?" I finally asked.

He took a sip of his whiskey before answering. "You think I'd sleep next to a woman who might stab me in the middle of the night?"

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not that dangerous."

He grinned. "Oh, but how would anyone know?"

I didn't respond.

Nolan set his glass down and stood up. I tensed slightly as he came closer, but I tried to look calm.

He stopped in front of me and leaned in, his face just inches from mine.

"You want to know why I chose you, Kelly?" he whispered.

I stared him down. "Because you had no other choice."

He smiled, but his eyes stayed cold. "Maybe. But I'm also curious... how far can you go before you break?"

There was something in his voice. Not a threat. A challenge.

I straightened my back, meeting his gaze head-on. "You want me to give up? You'll have to try harder, Nolan."

He stared at me for a moment before stepping back, as if silently acknowledging my point. "We'll see, mi juguete."

And for the first time since I arrived at this mansion, I realized something.

I wasn't just here to survive. I was going to win-and make him the one on his knees.