Chapter 2 The Devil's Warning

Dante's eyes were locked on me, dark and unreadable.

I froze near the balcony, my fingers still pressed to the glass door. My heart hammered in my chest.

"I wasn't," I started, but my voice shook.

"Thinking of escaping?" His tone was calm but every word felt like a warning. He stepped closer, slow and controlled like a predator approaching his prey. "Do you think I'm stupid, little dove?"

"I wasn't going to run," I lied.

Dante's jaw tightened. He stopped right in front of me, towering over me. His presence was overwhelming making it hard to breathe.

"You're bad at lying," he said, his deep voice sending shivers down my spine. "But don't worry. You'll learn the rules soon enough."

I stepped back, but he caught my wrist, pulling me closer.

"Let me go," I whispered.

His grip tightened just enough to remind me he was stronger. His face was so close to mine now, his breath warm against my cheek.

"Do you know what happens to people who betray me, Isabella?" His voice was low and dangerous.

I swallowed hard, shaking my head.

"They disappear."

My stomach twisted with fear.

But then, something strange happened. His hand softened around my wrist. His thumb brushes my skin gently. His tone changed, softer and almost protective.

"But you..." His eyes darkened and he leaned closer, his lips near my ear. "You're too precious to break."

A strange heat rose inside me and I hated myself for feeling it.

He released me, turning toward the door.

"Get some rest," he ordered. "Tomorrow we'll be getting married."

"I don't want to marry you," I said, my voice trembling but firm.

He turned back, his expression unreadable. Then slowly, he smirked.

"You'll thank me one day."

And then he left, locking the door again.

I sat on the bed hugging my knees. My mind was a mess.

Married? To Dante Moretti?

I stared at the locked door thinking about escape. But outside the balcony guards with guns patrolled the grounds. There was no way out.

I lay on the bed staring at the ceiling.

Who was Dante Moretti? The man who just bought me for ten million dollars? The man who killed without hesitation? Or the man who brushed my wrist like he cared?

I didn't know which scared me more.

At some point I fell asleep, my heart still racing.

I woke up to the sound of the door unlocking.

A woman walked in. Tall, dressed in black, her hair in a tight bun.

"Mr. Moretti sent me," she said. "I'm here to get you ready."

"Ready for what?"

"For your wedding of course."

My stomach turned. "I'm not marrying him."

She gave me a cold look. "You don't have a choice."

Before I could answer, two more women came in carrying dresses. One was a white lace gown.

"No," I said, stepping back. "I won't wear that."

The tall woman's eyes hardened. "If you refuse, Mr. Moretti will dress you himself. Is that what you want?"

My face heated. "Fine," I snapped. "I'll wear it."

The women helped me dress. The gown was beautiful but felt heavy, like chains made of silk.

When they were done, I stood in front of the mirror. For a second, I didn't recognize myself.

I looked like a bride... but not a happy one.

The door opened again and Dante walked in.

I froze.

He was in a black suit, perfectly tailored, his dark hair styled back. He looked like a king. Dangerous, powerful, untouchable.

His eyes scanned me slowly and for the first time, I saw something different in them. Admiration.

"You look beautiful," he said simply.

I crossed my arms glaring at him. "This isn't a real wedding."

He smirked, stepping closer. "Oh, it's very real, little dove."

"I don't love you," I said.

He tilted his head, studying me. "Love is a luxury. All I need from you is obedience."

My heart pounded harder. "And if I say no?"

His smirk faded, his jaw tightening.

"Then I'll make you say yes."

Before I could answer, he reached for my hand. His touch was firm, his fingers wrapping around mine.

"Let's go," he said. I had no choice but to follow him.

The ceremony wasn't in a church. It was in a grand hall inside his mansion, filled with men in black suits and women in expensive dresses.

Everyone stood when Dante entered pulling me beside him.

I felt their eyes on me, some curious, some jealous, some full of hatred.

An old man in a suit acted as the officiator.

"Do you, Dante Moretti, take Isabella Romano as your wife?"

Dante didn't hesitate. "I do."

The officiator turned to me. "And do you, Isabella Romano..."

"I don't," I said before he could finish.

Gasps filled the room.

Dante turned to me slowly, his eyes darkening.

"Say it," he ordered, his voice low.

I shook my head. "No."

The room went silent.

Then Dante leaned closer, his lips brushing my ear.

"Say it or I'll kiss you right here in front of everyone until you do."

I glared at him. "You wouldn't."

His dark smile sent chills down my spine. "Try me."

The officiator looked nervous. "Miss Romano?"

My hands trembled. I wanted to scream, to run, to fight. But Dante's grip on my hand tightened and became firm.

"I... I do," I whispered finally.

A satisfied smirk touched his lips.

"Good girl," he murmured.

The officiator smiled awkwardly. "You may now kiss the bride."

Before I could protest, Dante pulled me to him, his lips crashing against mine.

I pushed him away and he gave me a cold smile. His eyes are locked with mine.

"You're mine now," he whispered.

The ceremony ended and Dante led me away, his hand never leaving mine.

But as we walked back to the mansion, a man in the crowd caught my eye. He was staring at me with something strange in his gaze. Fear? Warning?

When our eyes met he mouthed one word:

Run.

I froze, my heart pounding.

But before I could react, Dante's arm slid around my waist, pulling me closer.

"Don't even think about it," he said softly, his voice dark and possessive.

I looked up at him, my stomach twisting with fear and something else I didn't want to name.

Because for the first time, I realized something terrifying.

Maybe I didn't want to run.