Chapter 3 The devils bride in public

The Di Carlo Gala was taking place at the Elysian Hotel, a sparkling playground for the city's high society and the criminal elite that lurked beneath it all.

This was the kind of place where a glass of champagne could cost more than your rent and secrets were the real currency.

As I walked into the ballroom with Damian, my heels clicked against the marble floor. I was dressed in a stunning black velvet gown, complete with a diamond necklace. I had never worn diamonds before, but now, they sparkled around my neck like they belonged there.

I looked every bit the picture of elegance. But inside, I was a mess.

I didn't come here for fun. I came for information, for access, and yes, for a bit of revenge.

But with Damian's possessive grip on my waist, I felt less like his wife and more like a trophy on display.

"Smile," he whispered in my ear. "You're mine now; the world should know it."

I forced a smile, but it felt cold and distant.

The ballroom was alive with music and tension, politicians dancing with their mistresses, underworld kings exchanging veiled threats. Damian was royalty here, the kind that ruled with bullets and signatures.

Every head turned our way as we moved through the crowd. Some looked fearful, others curious. We stopped in front of Enzo Di Carlo, a silver-haired man in a navy tuxedo, sharp-eyed and smiling like a wolf. Beside him stood his daughter, Valentina, a curly-blonde beauty who looked like she had been born with a diamond spoon in her mouth.

"Cross," Enzo said, extending a hand. "Finally settled down?"

Damian shook his hand, then turned his gaze to me. "This is Claire. My wife."

Wife. That word sounded so strange.

Enzo kissed the back of my hand. "Beautiful. I hope she's ready for the chaos of your world."

I wanted to say, I like chaos, but instead, I just smiled. Valentina tilted her head, her smile too sweet to be genuine. "How did you two meet?"

In hell, popped into my mind before I could stop myself. Enzo chuckled.

Damian tightened his grip on my wrist. "We should talk soon," he said to Enzo, his voice low, almost threatening.

Enzo nodded, "Of course, we'll make time."

"Who is he?" I whispered as we moved away.

"An old enemy, occasionally an ally," Damian explained. "The Di Carlos control half of the east coast port traffic. He's dangerous but careful. I don't trust him."

"Do you trust anyone?" I asked, meeting his gaze.

He looked at me and replied, "Not anymore."

Later that night, he took me to the rooftop terrace, away from the noise and false laughter of the gala. The city lights twinkled below like a sea of fire.

I wrapped my arms around myself. "Is this how it'll always be?"

He lit a cigarette and took a long drag before answering. "What do you mean?"

You,dragging me through your world, smiling for the cameras, pretending we're something we're not.

He exhaled slowly, watching the smoke drift away like a ghost. "This isn't pretending, Claire. You wear my ring, you sleep in my bed. Whether you feel it or not, you're mine."

"You don't own me," I snapped.

He stepped closer, pinning me against the wall. His hand brushed my hair back gently, almost tenderly, his eyes softening.

"I own everything I touch," he said, his tone dark. "Including you."

My heart raced, a mix of fear and fury coursing through me. "I'll never love you."

"I don't need your love; I need your loyalty."

*What makes you think you'll get that?* He leaned in, our lips almost touching. "Because I'm giving you what no one else will: the truth."

My breath caught. "Your father," he said quietly, "he was laundering money for Di Carlos. Millions. He came to me when he realized they were going to kill him. He begged for my protection."

*What?* I stumbled to my knees.

"I gave it to him. But on one condition: he would hand over the ledgers. Instead, he ran, tried to hide them. He didn't just betray them... he betrayed me."

You're lying... "I don't lie when it comes to debts. Your father died because he was a coward... and now, his daughter is paying the price."

I slapped him before I even realized what I was doing. The sound rang out across the rooftop. He didn't flinch; he just looked at me, a cold smile slowly creeping across his face.

"There she is," he said. "The fire beneath the fear."

I turned away and walked off. I fought to hold back the tears welling in my eyes. I didn't want to believe him, but the way he spoke, with such certainty, made it hard to deny.

And honestly, that was the scariest part.

Later that night, back in the penthouse, he didn't lay a finger on me. I braced myself for the storm, the anger, the punishment I thought would come.

He didn't say a word. Instead, he poured himself a drink, settled by the window, and just stared out at the skyline.

"Why didn't you tell me this before?" I whispered, standing in the doorway.

"Because I needed you to trust me first." Well, I sure didn't trust him now.

"I know," he replied, turning to face me. "But you will."

I couldn't help but stare at him. This was the man who had completely wrecked my life, but oddly enough, he might be the only one who could help me piece it back together.

He didn't look like a monster; he looked like someone who had stopped pretending to be human. And that's when I began to grasp Damian Cross's world.

In his eyes, there was no such thing as innocence. Just power and survival.