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.

I woke up with a heavy feeling in my chest, like something was pressing down on me. My eyes were still half-closed as I moved my hand, trying to make sense of what was going on.

And then-I froze.

This wasn't a thing. This was a person.

I opened my eyes fully and found Nolan's face just inches from mine. His breath was warm, softly brushing against my cheek. His body-God, his whole body-was lying on top of me. Completely. One of his muscular arms was wrapped around my waist, and one of his legs was draped over mine.

I was trapped.

Crap.

I tried to move, but it was useless. When I shifted, Nolan mumbled something in a deep, groggy voice.

"Stop moving, Kelly."

I froze again. "Nolan, wake up."

No response. Instead, he pulled me even closer, his face pressing into the side of my neck. I could feel his warm, steady breathing.

Okay. This is bad.

"Nolan, let me go," I whispered, trying to stay calm.

He muttered something in Italian-I had no idea what it meant, but he didn't sound like he cared.

I huffed and tried to gather some courage. "If you don't wake up right now, I swear I'll-"

"Swear you'll what?"

Damn it. He was awake.

His deep voice was clear now, and-wait-was he smiling?

I turned my head slightly. Yep. There it was. That smug, victorious little smile.

Heat rushed to my cheeks. "Nolan, move."

He raised an eyebrow. "Why? You look pretty comfortable."

I almost wanted to bang my head against the wall. "Nolan."

He stared at me for a long moment. Then, finally-and very slowly, like he was doing it on purpose-he pulled his arm away. But before I could move, he leaned in and whispered in my ear:

"You slept really well in my arms, Kelly."

A shiver ran down my spine. Jerk.

I quickly rolled out of bed and away from him. I rubbed my face, trying to calm down and pull myself together.

Behind me, I heard Nolan chuckling softly.

He yawned and stretched like he'd just had the best sleep of his life. To him, this was just a regular morning.

Meanwhile, my heart was still racing from what just happened.

He glanced at me, then casually got out of bed and headed to his closet like nothing had happened. "I'm hungry," he said flatly as he started going through his shirts. "You want something to eat?"

I stared at him in disbelief. Food? Seriously? After that?

I pulled my robe tighter around me and tried to keep my face calm. "How can you be so relaxed right now?"

Nolan glanced at me briefly, his expression unreadable. "Why shouldn't I be?"

I blinked. Why shouldn't he be?

God, this man.

I let out a frustrated breath. "Just now-" I stopped myself. I didn't even want to go over it again. "Don't act like you don't know what just happened, Nolan."

He gave a small smirk and slid his hands into the pockets of his pajama pants.

"I'm not pretending. You're just overreacting."

I almost choked on air. Overreacting?!

"You were on top of me, Nolan."

He shrugged. "And you're still alive."

I seriously wanted to throw something at his head.

He didn't feel guilty. He wasn't embarrassed. He didn't feel anything.

That's what drove me crazy.

I thought maybe-after something like that-he'd at least feel a little awkward, or maybe annoyed, or something. But no. For Nolan, it was probably the same as waking up with a pillow on his face.

I bit my lip, trying to figure this guy out.

"I'm heading downstairs for breakfast," he said before walking out, leaving me standing there alone.

I stared at the closed door, then flopped back down on the bed.

Eventually, I made my way to the bathroom, splashed water on my face, and looked in the mirror. My eyes were still a bit sleepy, my hair a mess-but otherwise, I looked normal. Like nothing had even happened.

Maybe that's just how he operates-by ignoring everything, treating every situation like a game.

I clenched my fists and started getting ready. I didn't want to look like someone who had just lost.

Once I was dressed, I walked out of the room and headed downstairs to the dining room.

I sat at the table, eating a piece of bread without actually feeling hungry. Across from me, Nolan was sipping his coffee calmly, as if nothing had happened earlier.

I glanced at him. He was reading the newspaper, looking completely focused. Like there was nothing strange about waking up practically lying on top of me.

Unbelievable.

I set my spoon down with a little too much force, making a sharp clink. He looked up.

"Something wrong?" he asked casually.

I crossed my arms. "So you're really going to pretend nothing happened?"

Nolan raised an eyebrow. "I'm not pretending."

I let out a short, dry laugh. "Oh really? You think waking up on top of someone is totally normal?"

He shrugged. "You're still alive."

That answer again. I wanted to throw something at him.

I leaned forward across the table, glaring at him. "Listen. I don't know what kind of game you think you're playing, but I'm not some piece you can just move around whenever you want."

Nolan slowly folded the newspaper and leaned back in his chair. His expression darkened slightly, though there was a spark of interest in his eyes.

"You think this is a game?" he asked quietly.

I smirked. "Isn't that what you're doing? Treating people like toys?"

He stared at me for a long moment, then gave a small smile. "And you think you can win?"

I lifted my chin. "I don't have to win. I just won't lose."

Silence.

Then he laughed-not mockingly, not in a mean way. It was more like... amusement.

"Interesting," he murmured, taking another sip of his coffee.

I gritted my teeth. That wasn't the reaction I wanted. I had hoped to see him flustered, annoyed, something. But instead, Nolan just seemed more entertained.

He set down his cup and leaned back again. "Alright then. Let's see how long you last, Kelly."

At that moment, I realized-I'd just lit a fire that might end up burning me.

After our little face-off at the table, Nolan stood up, calmly straightening his jacket. His face was relaxed-almost bored.

"I have a meeting," he said simply.

I leaned back in my chair. "A meeting? What, planning to pin someone else to a bed this morning?"

He turned his head slightly, flashing that smug smile. "I could... if you want."

I nearly threw the butter knife at him.

Without waiting for a reply, Nolan walked toward the door. He paused for a second. "Try not to miss me too much."

I shot him a glare. "Trust me, I'll be celebrating your absence."

He chuckled and left, leaving me alone with a head full of thoughts.

I thought he was headed to some dark, shady mafia hideout-full of guns and criminals. But instead, he walked into a sleek office building where he was listed as the CEO.

"Piquete Company," I muttered, staring at the tall skyscraper on my phone screen.

So this is his cover?

On paper, Nolan Piquete was a successful businessman, running companies in import-export, real estate, and investments. But behind the scenes... he was running an illegal weapons operation.

I rubbed my face. My life had turned into a crime novel.

While I sat in the living room, a servant came over and placed a cup of tea on the table. "Miss Kelly, is there anything else you need?"

I looked up. "I want to go out."

She looked unsure. "I'm sorry, but Mr. Nolan gave strict orders for you to stay inside the mansion."

Of course. How convenient.

I grabbed my phone, trying to dig up more information on Nolan's company. And the more I read, the more I realized-Nolan's world had two sides.

By day, he was a polished CEO admired by the media. But by night... he was a monster ruling the criminal underworld.

And me? I was stuck right in the middle.

In the morning, Nolan would leave early-sometimes even before the sun came up. At night, he'd come back, usually just long enough to have a quick dinner before disappearing into his office in the mansion. We never had deep conversations. No small talk. It felt like I was just another person living in the house-not his wife, not someone he cared about.

I spent most of my time reading, taking short walks in the garden, or simply staring out the window, hoping to see something beyond the tall fences and the guards in uniform.

From the outside, this mansion looked like a dream. But to me, it was nothing more than a fancy prison.

One night, while I was still awake in bed, the bedroom door opened. Nolan walked in calmly, took off his jacket, and carelessly threw it over a chair. His tie was loose-he looked tired.

I closed the book I had been pretending to read.

"You're finally home," I said, more to myself than to him.

Nolan glanced at me like my presence didn't matter. "You're still awake?"

I didn't answer right away. I watched him slowly unbutton his sleeves, his movements relaxed-like everything was normal. Like his constant absences didn't need any explanation.

"I never sleep early," I said at last.

He just nodded, then walked over to pour himself a drink. No words. No effort to explain. Only silence between us.

I looked at him, feeling more and more frustrated.

"Why even have a wife if you're never around?"

Nolan paused, then turned to face me. His expression was hard to read. "Would you prefer me to stay home?"

I scoffed at the ridiculous question. "I'd rather be allowed to leave this place."

He didn't answer right away. He slowly walked toward me, his face calm-but there was something in his eyes that made me nervous.

"I don't remember giving you permission for that," he said, his voice low, like a warning.

I clenched my jaw, fighting the urge to snap back. "And I don't remember needing permission just to live."

He went quiet.

I thought he might get angry. But instead, he laughed softly-not because something was funny, but like he found my defiance amusing.

"You're stubborn," he said finally.

I stared at him without backing down. "And you're annoying."

Nolan just shook his head slightly, set down his glass, and walked to the door. Before leaving, he paused and looked back at me.

"Go to sleep. I have a meeting."

I let out a long sigh after he left.

Even when he was home, he still felt so far away. And inside these luxurious walls, I felt more and more lost-like I didn't know who I was to him anymore.

The days went by without any real change.

Nolan came home less and less. Sometimes, I wondered if he even lived here. He'd show up late at night and be gone before I woke up. And even when he was home, he was glued to his laptop or phone, always working.

And me?

I was still stuck in this mansion like a display doll.

Big, fancy, beautiful-but still trapped.

I couldn't go anywhere. Every time I walked near the gate, the guards just stared at me. I once tried going farther than usual, just to feel what it was like to "break the rules." But before I could reach the front door, two large guards blocked my path with blank expressions.

I raised my hand and forced a smile. "Just wanted some fresh air."

They didn't move.

I tried to step forward again-and they stepped forward too.

"Seriously, I just-"

They didn't say a word, just gave me a look that clearly said, Try it, and see what happens.

I sighed and gave up, turning back toward the house.

Damn it. I wasn't even allowed a taste of freedom.

That night, I woke up to the sound of footsteps in the room.

My eyes were heavy, but I felt something strange. I blinked, trying to adjust to the darkness-and then I froze.

Something was pressing down on me.

I'd felt this before.

I opened my eyes fully-and Nolan's face was just inches from mine. His breath was warm against my cheek. His body-God, his whole body-was lying on top of me.

I tried to move, but it was useless. My movement only made Nolan mumble in a sleepy, low voice:

"Don't move, Kelly."

I froze. "Nolan, wake up."

He didn't respond. Instead, he pulled me closer, his face buried in the curve of my neck. His breathing was calm and steady.

Okay. This is bad.

"Nolan, let go of me."

God, if I had to choose a way to die, I wouldn't want it to be crushed under this annoying Italian mafia boss.

"Nolan," I whispered, trying to stay calm.

He stared at me for a while, then slowly and deliberately let go. But before I could move, he leaned in and whispered in my ear:

"You're so tiny in my arms, Kelly."

Oh, come on-I'm not that short. I'm actually 172 cm (about 5'8"). But unfortunately, this man is probably 195–200 cm (around 6'5"–6'7").

I quickly rolled away from him. Behind me, I heard him chuckle softly.

I glared at him. "What's so funny?"

He didn't answer. Just picked up his phone and checked something, his face turning blank again.

I rolled my eyes. "You come home less and less."

"Yeah."

That's it? Just "yeah"?

I turned to face him, annoyed. "You're never home. I'm trapped in this place. And everyone acts like it's normal. Seriously, Nolan, am I your wife or your prisoner?"

He glanced at me. "Both."

I paused, then threw a pillow at him. "Jerk."

He caught it easily, like he saw it coming.

"I'm protecting you."

I laughed bitterly. "Protecting or locking me up? I don't even know if the outside world still exists. Has the apocalypse started? Are there zombies? Aliens? I have no idea!"

Nolan sighed and put down his phone. "The outside world isn't as safe as you think, Kelly."

I looked at him in disbelief. "Is it the world that's dangerous, or just your world?"

He didn't answer.

I crossed my arms, standing near the closet. "I'm bored, Nolan. I want to go outside."

He stared at me for a while, then finally got up from the bed and walked toward me. I took a step back out of instinct, but he moved faster and trapped me between his body and the wardrobe.

"And what if I don't let you?" he said in a low, almost whispered voice.

I stared back, trying not to show fear. "Then I'll find my own way."

He looked at me for a few seconds, then smirked, his expression full of challenge. "Go ahead. Try."

I clenched my fists. I really wanted to punch him, but I knew that wouldn't end well.

Instead, I tilted my head up and gave him my most defiant look. "You think I won't?"

"No," he said casually. "I know you can't."

I wanted to argue, but before I could say anything, he stepped back and picked up his phone again-as if I didn't matter anymore.

Unbelievable.

I wanted to scream. Throw something. Do anything.

Then... I had an idea. A crazy one.

I cleared my throat, walked to the desk, grabbed a pen and a sheet of paper. Calmly, I started writing.

Nolan glanced over briefly. "What are you doing?"

I smiled slightly, then held up the paper so he could read it:

"I'M GOING ON A HUNGER STRIKE UNTIL YOU LET ME OUT."

He stared at the paper for a few seconds, then raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

I gave him a sharp look. "Dead serious."

He put down his phone and looked at me with an unreadable expression.

Then he laughed.

Not the reaction I was hoping for.

"What's so funny?" I snapped.

He just shook his head, his grin widening. "I'm curious how long you'll last."

I clenched my jaw. "We'll see."

And in that moment, I realized something.

I might not be able to fight Nolan with force. I might not be able to run. But I still had one weapon:

Stubbornness.

If Nolan wanted to play this game, I was going to make damn sure he didn't win easily.