The Wedding Debt: Dark Mafia Romance (Debts & Vengeance)

I turn off the light in the bathroom and make my way to my room through the long hallways lined with expensive paintings and statues that stare back at me, reminding me of how lonely I feel in these vast halls.

I sigh as I clutch my bathrobe tight, but I pause the second I hear my parents’ voices coming from their bedroom.

“Are you sure it was the right decision to send them there?”

Holding my breath, I sneak closer and clutch the doorway just out of view.

My father paces around the room. “It’s the safest school, you heard Lex. These kids need protection.”

“But they’re already starting fights,” my mother says. “It’s only been one day.”

I close my eyes, trying to listen without reacting, but it’s hard.

“They’re just trying to find out the pecking order.”

“What?” My mother gasps, and so do I. “Honestly, you can’t be serious.”

“It’s natural. And it’s good for them. It’ll toughen them up.”

“They’re girls!” My mom is visibly upset, and I hate that.

“And the heirs to our company,” my father says. “Unless you want to go and make a male heir, this is what we’ve got.”

I frown and sigh away the hurt in my heart. Of course, my father would’ve rather had boys than girls.

“This is my decision, and I am sticking with it. The girls are staying at that school so they can mingle with the De Voses and prepare for the future.”

Prepare for the future?

What does he mean?

“But shouldn’t we wait to decide which one of our girls marries that boy? I mean, they’re not exactly—”

I can’t hear what she says anymore because all I can think of is … marriage?

Marry that boy?

Who?

I want to shriek, but I plant a hand against my mouth to stop the sound from escaping.

My father stops pacing. “Hey, did you hear something?”

My eyes widen.

Without thinking, I rush away in the opposite direction, taking the long route to reach my room just to avoid being seen. And I slam the door shut behind me, my mind going a million miles an hour as I stand here breathing against the wood.

I’ve known it for so long, but I kept denying it, hoping it would go away if I didn’t think about it.

But it hasn’t.

Ever since we were little kids, the tone was set.

My father decides who we marry.

All this time, I thought the De Voses were merely his associates … but what if one of us is supposed to marry one of theirs?

A shiver runs up and down my spine.

I always thought I wanted this. That I wanted to belong to this family and make them proud. But the mere idea of being married off to anyone makes the bile rise in my throat.

I slowly walk away from the door, still staring at it like the fires of hell lie beyond.

I am not an object. My sister is not an object. We deserve better.

We deserve a life of freedom.

The sudden sound of the window on my left being opened makes me swallow a shriek. Climbing into my room … is none other than Luca De Vos.

I take a few steps back, clutching my towel tight as it’s the only thing between him and my naked skin. His eyes roam freely across my body, taking ample time to soak up every inch of my skin, and it instantly makes me want to take a cold shower.

Fuck.

I never really stopped to think about how much of an effect just his gaze has on me. Or that lip he just bit while looking me up and down like some tasty piece of meat he wants to devour.

“W-What are y-you doing here?” I stutter, completely losing it because this guy is in my room, and I’m not wearing anything but a skimpy towel.

He runs his hand through his wet hair and pushes it back, and it used to make me think he was arrogant, but now? Now all I see is just how muscular and veiny his arm is, and just how wet his shirt is as it reveals all the thick abs underneath, and …

Oh my God, why am I thinking about Luca like that?

“I wanted to see you,” he says.

See … me?

His tongue darts out to wet his lips as his eyes shoot up and down my thin towel again.

Is this thing see-through? Fuck, I hope not.

I still walk back slowly until I bump into the wall and realize there is only one way out … the door. But the second I take a glance, he’s right there, blocking my only path out.

“Don’t be scared.” He raises a hand. “I just want to talk.”

“Couldn’t you ring the doorbell?” I ask, clearing my throat as he stalks closer.

His face darkens. “No. Your parents can’t know I’m here.”

My eyes widen. “Why?”

“You know why,” he says through gritted teeth. “Same reason mine can’t find out.”

My lips part in shock.

Does he know too?

“I’m not what they want me to be. I’m not the perfect boy who obeys their every request,” he says.

“I’m the same way,” I reply. I don’t know why I say it or why I even care.

“I know.” A lopsided smile forms on his face as he comes closer and closer. Every step he takes makes my breath falter more and more.

He swipes away more rain from his face, brushing his hair aside. A few bruises appear underneath, bruises I don’t recognize from the fight at school. Did someone else hit him?

I frown. “What happened?”

Instinctively, my hand inches closer to his face, to the bruise on his cheek. But the second the tip of my finger touches his skin, he grabs my wrist and pins it to the wall behind me, planting his other hand on the wall to trap me inside.

“You.”

The word comes out in a single breath, but its power doesn’t evade me. He’s so close I can almost feel his rage. He leans in closer, almost as if he’s smelling me, and the thought alone makes my breath hitch in my throat.

“I hate … you.”

My face contorts.

How could he say that?

“Is that what you came here to tell me?” I scoff, feeling tears well up in my eyes. “Get out.”

His lip curls up. “Make me.”

I shove him with one hand, but he doesn’t budge. Again. And again. But no matter how hard I push, I can’t even make him move an inch away from me.

“What do you want?” I say, my eyes still unable to look away from the droplets running down Luca’s chiseled chest visible through his shirt.

His dark eyes lower to my chest, almost piercing right through before peering back up into mine. “You.”

Anger swirls through my body. “I didn’t do anyth—”

I can’t finish my sentence.

Because his hot lips are on mine.

Consuming me whole.

And I can’t fucking breathe.

Luca De Vos … is kissing me? But why?

I don’t understand. He said he hated me. He’s continuously bullied me, pushed me, threatened me, laughed at me.

But now his lips are on mine, claiming me in a way I never thought anyone could. And for some reason, I can’t stop him. My whole body grows numb from the feel of his lips smashing onto mine, his tongue coaxing them to part, followed by a groan that sets my body on fire.

His hand moves from the wall to my waist, his body pressing against mine. The thin piece of towel fabric separating us almost falls off. And I can feel every ridge of his muscles, every inch of his delectable body, and even the bulge protruding from his pants.

Fuck.

What is happening?

When his tongue forces itself between my lips and licks the roof of my mouth, one of his hands slides down my arm while the other slithers between the towel.

In an instant, I bite.

He leans back, his finger moving to his face, touching his bloodied lip. His tongue darts out to lick up the blood while his eyes sparkle with curiosity. “You bit me.”

“No shit,” I retort. “First, you tell me you hate me, and then you kiss me?”

He bursts out into laughter.

“What’s so funny about that?” I quip.

“That you think that’s all I feel for you,” he says, and he plants both his hands beside my head, still trapping me inside. “That you think I’m going to let my brother win.”

My eyes widen. “Win wha—”

He grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him. “I hate you for making me want you so much it makes me hate myself.”

His words repeat over and over in my mind.

He hates himself … for wanting me.

Is this the reason he kept taunting me? Pushing me?

He releases me from his grip and lets his hand fall as his hair drapes over his eyes like a shadow hiding all his secrets.

“Do you have any idea what it’s like to know the one girl you want only wants your fucking brother?”

I shudder in place, goose bumps scattering on my skin.

All this time … he had a crush on me?

No, that can’t be true.

“You called that girl to come to your house while I was there, the one with the—”

“With the what, Jill?”

“Those …” My face turns red at the thought.

“Big tits?” He raises a brow like he’s amused he could read my mind, and I hate it.

“She was a distraction. From you.”

My body is pressed against the wall as any movement will bring me closer to him.

Closer to danger.

Closer to the devil himself.

But now that I’ve licked the flames of hell, I’m not sure I still want to escape.

These dark eyes of his bore into my soul, and I can’t stop looking right back into the depths of depravity. The moment seems to last an eternity.

“I … I …” Words fail me.

He tips up my chin with his index finger and turns my face so I look straight at him. “You can’t ever do anything that will not make me want you.”

I suck in a ragged breath.

He leans in to whisper. “Believe me, I’ve tried. Hard. Especially because you seem to fucking want the only one who doesn’t want you.”

Fuck. I can’t say that didn’t hurt.

Though I’ve always known Liam prefers my sister, it’s tough hearing it from Luca’s mouth.

He starts pacing around the room. “You know, I even got into a fight because of you. And not just one, two.” He points at the new bruise. “Courtesy of my father.”

His father hit him? That asshole!

“I’m sorry,” I reply, approaching him, but he swats my hand away when I try to touch him.

“I don’t want your pity,” he scoffs. “I just want … Fuck!”

He walks off, breaking the spell I was under.

Only now can I breathe, but only for a little while because he’s still strolling around my room, headed straight for my bookcase. He picks up the crown lying next to my books, the same crown my sister and I were playing with all those years ago, and puts it on his head, then turns to look at me.

“A crown fit for a prince who will never be king. Ironic.”

“I don’t understand. You bullied me, said I was ugly,” I say.

His brows twitch, and he stalks back to me, crown wobbling on his head while his clothes continue to drip onto my floor. “Sometimes, I lie.”

“Why?” I say, as he backs me into the wall again.

“To make it easier for you to hate me.”

“But I don’t …” I say, almost swallowing the words. “Hate you.”

His nostrils flare as he looks up and down between my eyes and my lips, almost like he’s contemplating whether to kiss me again.

“You should,” he says. “I’m not fucking good for you.”

Suddenly, he pulls out that knife again, and my heart rate shoots up to what feels like a million beats per minute. He points the blade at my chest.

“All I do is hurt people. It’s what I’ve been taught. But sometimes, I play with them for fun,” he says. “Do you even know how much blood this blade has seen?”

I shake my head.

“Does it scare you?”

Sweat drops roll across my forehead. “You won’t hurt me.”

He cocks his head, a vicious smirk forming on his face. “No … but something inside me makes me want to do this.”

His hand slams into the wall beside my face, still holding the knife. I jolt up and down from the shock, only to freeze the second his other hand slides between my thighs and parts them.

“I want what I can’t fucking have,” he says, inching up underneath my towel.

Until he hits that spot.

“And it makes me want to kill to have it,” he murmurs, his face so close to mine I can feel his breath on my skin.

His fingers start to move up and down my pussy, sliding along my clit and opening like he intends to spread my wetness all over. Because one thing is certain … I am as wet as a goddamn pool. And I don’t understand why.

I’m not supposed to like a dangerous guy like him. I’m not supposed to like any of this.

Yet … I can’t help but let the moan fall out as my lips part, and my eyes almost roll into the back of my head the second he presses his thumb onto my clit.

“You’re so wet for me, Jill,” he whispers. “Have you ever been this wet for anyone?”

I shake my head, delirious with need as he keeps circling my most sensitive bits like he knows exactly what he’s doing and where he needs to go to make me beg for more.

“Did you ever dream about me the way I dreamed about you?” he murmurs into my ear. “Did you ever come just thinking about me?” His dark eyes slide over to mine, looking straight at me while he toys with my pussy. “Like I’ve done so many times when thinking about you?”

The shock makes me gasp, but no sound escapes as he covers my mouth with his.

And I can’t even fucking move as he claims my mouth and my pussy like they’ve always belonged to him.

When his lips unlatch from mine, I feel bereft. “I think your pussy is telling me all I need to know.”

He shoves a finger inside, making my mouth form an o-shape.

My legs wobble, but when I try to move, he holds the knife out in front of my throat.

“Don’t move,” he says. “And don’t make a sound. Don’t want to alert your parents.”

I swallow away my anxiety as he toys with me while wearing a vicious, gleeful smile on his face.

“So tight … so perfect,” he murmurs, thrusting in and out until I’m moaning and bucking my hips against his fingers. “So desperate for me.”

“Don’t,” I murmur.

“Say it like you mean it,” he whispers into my ear, and I feel him smile against my skin. “You can’t, can you?”

No. I can’t. And I hate it.

I hate that I can’t say no to him. That I want whatever it is he’s willing to give like a beggar looking for scraps.

But what I hate most of all is that he enjoys it.

He presses his bulge against my body, and I can feel it throb through the fabric of his pants.

Slowly, he slides the knife down my neck, and I quiver from the feel of the cold blade on my skin. He moves it down across the towel and slides it between my crevice. My eyes widen, my veins pumping adrenaline through my body as he traces my pussy with the tip of his knife.

A tear forms in my eye, but I blink it away.

“Are you scared of me, little bunny?”

I shake my head, determined not to show him how fearful I am.

Because he thrives on it.

He lives to see the fear in my eyes.

He pulls it back and spins the blade around so he holds the sharp end. “I might be vicious … but I’m not cruel.”

Suddenly, he shoves the back end of the knife in my pussy, and I gasp in shock.

I can’t believe it’s actually inside me as he thrusts and twists it around.

He’s holding the blade, and he doesn’t even seem to care about the pain it might cause him.

He leans in to lick my earlobe, making my eyes almost roll into the back of my head. I don’t know whether to cry or to moan because of what he’s doing to me. Because the way he expertly dives into my pussy with that thing makes me question all my morals … all I ever thought I knew about excitement. This is on a whole new level.

“Moan for me, Bunny, and I might give it to you,” he whispers.

I fight it. I fight it so hard, but a moan still slips out of my mouth as he starts flicking my clit while thrusting the handle of the knife inside. He toys with me, knowing exactly where to push to get me to react, and my body is helpless against him.

Even though I should hate him.

Despise him.

Fight him.

Instead, I arch my head to the side as he presses a single, all-consuming kiss on my neck. “Say you want me. Say you only want me,” he says, looking up into my eyes.

“I want you,” I respond in a completely intoxicated state.

I don’t even know what I’m doing or saying.

But I don’t want him to stop, even if it’s wrong, so wrong.

He pulls out the knife, leaving me bereft as he plants the hand holding the knife on the wall, only to replace the emptiness inside me with his finger.

“See … you like this,” he murmurs, feeling me from the inside out.

One finger is inside me while another toys with my clit, and I’m almost on the edge of falling apart.

“Show me what it looks like when you fall apart,” he says. “You’ve done that before, haven’t you? Fingered yourself.”

I nod in delirium as I’m still being ravaged between my legs.

“Good girl,” he says. And for some reason, that makes my whole body zing. “So you know what it feels like to come. Now show me.”

I gasp as he ramps up the speed, circling and teasing my clit until my knees begin to buckle under me.

“That’s it, Bunny … Give me your orgasm.”

Fuck.

I can’t stop.

A moan slips out as my pussy convulses, my whole body shaking as I almost sink down against the wall. But Luca holds me steady and in place, his eyes roaming across my face and body. The knife comes closer until the tip touches my chest, and he gently slides it across like a warning. A threat.

“Don’t tell anyone about this. Ever.”

I swallow. Hard.

I can’t even protest, no matter how hard I want to.

He stole something from me no other boy has ever taken.

My first.

My first kiss.

My first touch.

My first orgasm.

Because when he asked me if I had touched myself … I lied.

I haven’t.

My mother told me not to. She said it was for grown-ups, and I believed her.

I couldn’t imagine what it would be like.

But this … I never expected this.

And especially not with this boy …

I always told myself I would give all of it to Liam.

Fuck.

I bite my lip, trying to stop the anger from spilling out as Luca still has a knife pointed right at my heart, and I don’t want to endanger myself.

“So this was all just a game to you?” I say. “I’m just another girl you can conquer?”

He draws a heart with the knife, right where my heart truly lies, ending it with a soft puncture to make me bleed.

“I’ve bled for you, Jill,” he says, touching the wound on his head. “It’s only fair you do the same for me.”

I can’t believe this.

“Get out,” I hiss, tears welling up in my eyes. I clutch my towel so it doesn’t fall after everything that just happened. I don’t want to embarrass myself any further.

He takes the crown off his head and places it on my head instead. “My parents are right. This crown doesn’t look good on me.” I frown as he puts his knife back into his pocket and takes a few steps back. “But I’m glad I got the first taste.”

The first taste? Of what? Me?

“What the hell does that mean?” I say.

He brings his fingers to his mouth and takes a lick, the grumbling noise that follows making me all the more aware of my own excitement for him.

When he’s done, he says, “They chose you. Not Jasmine.”

My pupils dilate, and my jaw drops. “What? When? Who told you?”

He keeps backing away like he doesn’t want me to get close.

“Liam,” he answers, grinding his teeth as he moves back to the window.

I run to the window just as he’s about to take off, the crown tumbling off my head. “Wait, what did he tell you?” I yell as Luca is on his way back down using the balcony.

He jumps down and looks up. “You’re supposed to marry him.”

And he runs off, leaving me with a goddamn tornado of emotions swallowing me up from the inside out.