Tamed By The Devil

Rory's hands trembled as she clutched the fabric of her thin nightgown. The cold night air bit at her skin, but it was nothing compared to the ice flooding her veins. She didn't know where they were taking her. She didn't even know who they were. The blindfold over her eyes had stolen away any chance of making sense of her surroundings.

The black car's engine purred like a beast, smooth but deadly. The men flanking her on either side hadn't spoken since they forced her out of her father's house in the middle of the night. Her father. Just thinking about him made bile rise in her throat. How could he do this to her? How could he trade her like she was nothing more than a piece of property?

She clenched her fists. No, she wasn't going to break. No matter what waited for her at the end of this road, she wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing her crumble.

The car finally came to a stop. The door swung open, and a firm hand gripped her arm. "Out."

Rory yanked her arm back. "I can walk myself."

A low chuckle. "Good. You'll need that fire."

Before she could demand what that meant, rough hands removed her blindfold, and she blinked against the sudden flood of light. Her heart pounded as she took in the massive mansion before her, all glass and stone, an estate that screamed power.

"Move."

The men ushered her forward, and as she stepped through the grand entrance, she was hit with the scent of leather and expensive whiskey. A single man sat in a leather chair by the fireplace, legs crossed, a crystal glass in his hand. He didn't look up immediately.

When he finally did, Rory forgot how to breathe.

Dante Morelli.

She'd never met him before, but his name was whispered like a ghost story in the underworld. A mafia kingpin. Ruthless. Cold. Unforgiving. And now...her captor.

Dante studied her, his dark eyes revealing nothing. "So, you're the payment."

Rory's spine straightened. "I'm nobody's payment."

His lips twitched slightly. Not quite a smile, but something close. "Your father seems to disagree."

Her chest tightened. She knew her father was reckless with money, but this? This was a new low. "I won't stay here."

Dante leaned forward, his gaze never leaving hers. "You don't have a choice."

She hated how deep his voice was, how it curled around her spine like a warning. Hated that she wasn't sure if she was more afraid or angry.

Before she could say anything else, heavy footsteps echoed in the hall. A woman stepped into the room, her emerald-green dress clinging to every curve.

Rory didn't know who she was, but the sharp glint in her eyes told her enough.

"Welcome home, princess," the woman said smoothly. "Try not to get in my way."

A storm had just begun, and Rory was trapped in the center of it.

---

The tension in the room thickened like smoke. Rory's pulse drummed in her ears as she turned her attention back to Dante. He remained seated, swirling the liquid in his glass as if he had all the time in the world. He was in control, and he knew it.

She took a step back. "This is insane. You can't just take me."

Dante's gaze flickered to her, sharp as a blade. "And yet, here you are."

Her stomach twisted. "Let me go."

He exhaled, setting his glass down on the mahogany table beside him. "You think I want to babysit some spoiled little girl? Your father made a deal, and I intend to collect."

Rory clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. "My father is a liar."

"For once, we agree."

That startled her. "Then why keep me?"

Dante leaned back, a ghost of a smirk touching his lips. "Because, sweetheart, letting you go isn't nearly as fun as watching you fight."

A shiver crawled down her spine. He was toying with her, testing her limits. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her fear, but it was there, curling around her throat like a noose.

The woman in the emerald dress, Isabella, Rory guessed, laughed softly. "Poor thing. Did you really think he'd let you walk away?"

Rory turned to her, eyes narrowing. "Who are you?"

Isabella stepped closer, heels clicking against the polished marble. "Dante's loyal one."

There was no mistaking the venom in her voice, nor the way her gaze flickered toward Dante with possessiveness. Rory didn't care about their history, but she didn't miss the warning in Isabella's tone.

Rory lifted her chin. "Then you should be happy. I don't want to be here any more than you want me here."

Isabella smirked. "Oh, princess, I don't want you gone. I want to watch you squirm."

Rory's nails dug deeper into her palms. "You'll be disappointed."

"We'll see."

Dante finally stood, slow and deliberate, like a predator who had all the time in the world. He towered over Rory, his presence suffocating. "Enough," he said, voice laced with authority. "Rory stays."

Rory snapped her head toward him. "You act like I'm a stray dog you've decided to keep."

He tilted his head slightly, a glint of amusement in his dark eyes. "More like a lion cub. Cute now, but dangerous when provoked."

Her breath hitched. He was unpredictable, and that terrified her more than anything.

Dante nodded toward one of the guards. "Take her to her room."

Rory bristled. "I can walk myself."

Dante smirked. "Good."

As the guards escorted her away, Rory cast one last glance at him, her mind racing. She didn't know what game he was playing, but one thing was certain.

She would not break.