Chapter 1 - The Devil’s Bargain“Because,” he said quietly, “you’re the only woman my family might actually believe I love.”
The words hung in the air, heavy and intoxicating, wrapping around my throat like a velvet rope. My heart slammed against my ribs. I had spent two years memorizing Marco Ricci’s coffee orders, his schedule, the exact tightening of his jaw when a deal went bad, and the hidden softness he reserved only for his mother.
I had spent two years burying my feelings so deep I thought they were dead. Now, with one sentence, he had resurrected them all.
"Marco..." I breathed, using his first name for the first time since I started working for him.
He didn't flinch. He stepped closer, the scent of bergamot and expensive bourbon washing over me. "I wouldn't ask if I had another choice, Emily. My mother is sharp. She sees through the models, the actresses, the women who look at my bank accounts before they look at my face. But you... you know me. You know how to handle me. And more importantly, she already adores you from the few times she’s called the office."
"This is a terrible idea," I whispered, though I was already nodding. "If we cross this line, how do we go back to Monday morning board meetings?"
"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it," he said, his green eyes darkening as they dropped to my lips for a fraction of a second. "Right now, I need to know if you are in."
"I have conditions," I said, my professional armor sliding back into place, even as my knees felt weak. "No treating me like an employee in front of them. If I'm your girlfriend, I'm your equal. And I am not wearing clothes you bought to make me look like one of your usual heiresses."
Marco’s mouth curved into a wicked, devastating smile. "Deal. Pack a bag. We leave at dawn."
The next morning, the black SUV glided along the Montauk Highway. The silence in the back seat was suffocating. I was wearing a simple navy sundress, feeling entirely inadequate for the billionaire playground of the Hamptons. Marco sat beside me, dressed in a casual linen shirt that did nothing to hide the lethal, coiled energy of his body.
As the wrought-iron gates of the Ricci estate loomed ahead, Marco shifted. He reached out, his large, warm hand covering mine where it rested on my knee. A jolt of electricity shot up my arm.
"From the moment those gates open," he murmured, his thumb brushing over my knuckles, "you are mine. You are the woman I intend to marry. Don't pull away, Emily. Don't let them see you hesitate."
"I won't," I promised, my voice trembling slightly.
The SUV crunched to a halt on the gravel driveway. The massive oak doors of the mansion swung open, and three generations of the Ricci family spilled out onto the stone steps.
May you like
Marco stepped out, walked around the car, and opened my door. He didn't offer me his hand—he wrapped his arm securely around my waist, pulling my body flush against his. It felt so natural, so terrifyingly right, that I gasped.
"Smile, amore mio," he whispered against my ear, sending shivers down my spine. "The wolves are waiting."
Related Stories
