Dark Devotion: A Blackmore University Prequel

1. Christine

DarkDevotion is a prequel. It is not meant to be a full-length novel, but the events preceding the start of DarkObsession.

* * *

NiccoloTerlizzi married my mother five years ago. He was a vibrant twenty-five-year-old, and I had just turned thirteen.

Oneday, my mother was entertaining men on casual dates here and there. The next, she had a diamond ring on her finger and wanted me to be the flower girl at her wedding.

Iliked Niccolo well enough. He was handsome with dark features that stirred something unexpected inside me. WheneverKaye and I saw him walking around the house shirtless, we dissipated into a fit of giggles. His physique was unmatched, and I swore to my best friend that I”d find a man like him someday—a man who looked like a GreekGod and treated me like a queen. I envied my mother for finding someone that loved her.

WhenCaterina first got sick, she tried to hide it from Niccolo. At fifteen years his senior, she didn’t want him to see her as weak. I remember her confiding in me about her stomach pains and swearing me to secrecy. “Niccolo must not know,” she whispered behind closed doors.

Icarried the burden of my mother”s secrets for far too long; I wasn”t old enough to make her see that she needed to get help. She was afraid to go to the doctor, fearful that if the doctor found something, she would have to explain it to Nic. ”It”s bad enough that I”m forty,” she stressed, ”I can”t be forty and infirm.”

Whenshe finally got to the doctor, it was too late; all her fears had come alive. She was diagnosed with stage four esophageal adenocarcinoma. Her survival rate was 10%, but mother had always been a fighter. She got every surgery and every treatment the doctor recommended. Including chemotherapy, which decimated her confidence and made her too weak to get out of bed.

Niccolowas by her side night and day. He was finishing his Ph.D. in Philosophy, and I’d find him sitting at her bedside with books scattered on the floor around him. He’d type a few sentences, get my mother some water, type a few more, get her some food, and on and on it went. For a man in his twenties, he was remarkably attentive.

Iadmired his ability to smile through the hard parts of my mother”s illness. He didn”t shy away from carrying her soiled body to the shower. He didn”t complain when they couldn”t go on dates because her hair had fallen out, and she refused to wear a wig. He said nothing; he was a dutiful husband.

Unfortunately, all the hospital care and nursing couldn’t save her. My mother died a few months later, and Niccolo spent weeks in mourning. He wasn”t married to Caterina for long, but he treated her with dignity, even after her death. His loyalty shaped the vision I had for my future husband.

Aftermy mother”s death, Niccolo wasn”t sure what to do with me. Caterina hadn”t put together a will in her final days, which made matters more complicated. I don”t know if he spoke to my uncles or grandfather or if he just took on the burden of parenting me without being asked. Either way, I”d get up every morning to a hot breakfast, and he made sure I got to school. IfI needed a permission slip signed, he was there for me. IfI needed new clothes or something for school, he took me to the store. He was to me as he”d always been to my mother: the perfect partner.

Itwasn’t until my uncles came around asking about my future that he snapped out of his depression.

Giovanniand Marco meant well. They allowed us time to mourn Caterina”s loss before telling Niccolothanks, but they would be taking custody of me.

“Over my dead body.” He put his foot down without a second thought. He had no claim to me legally. Niccolo was my mother’s husband, and with her body growing cold in a grave, he was nothing more than a caretaker of her final possessions. He hadn”t adopted me when they were married. There were no last wishes to say that he would care for me. Niccolo was doing it out of the goodness of his heart.

“Christine”s best friend is here. Her entire life is here in Manhattan. This is where her support system is, and I will not let you uproot that.”

Giovannilaughed and said that he was my support system. “I’m her family, cafone. You’re a little fuck boy that my father bought and paid for. You’re nothing to her.”

Iwasn’t supposed to be listening, but their yelling was hard to ignore. I stood in a hallway as close as I dared, clinging to the hope that somehow Niccolo would sway my uncles into letting me stay.

“I’m her stepfather whether you like it or not. Where were you when your sister was dying? BecauseI was at her bedside every. fucking. night. You know who wasn’t?” Niccolo didn’t give either of the men a chance to respond. “Her brothers. Do you know who made breakfast for Christine when Caterina was too sick to get up? Me. Who was there for Christine at the funeral? Me. Who’s been there for her every day since? Me. If you’re her support system, you fucking suck.”

Bothof my uncles were in their forties with families of their own. They came down from KansasCity for my mother’s last few days and were pallbearers at her funeral. ButNiccolo was right. The only person who’d been by my side since my mother’s death was him.

Iwasn’t sure how I felt about Niccolo when he married my mom, but I knew now. He was a good man. He loved my mother, and he loved me, too. If anyone could shuffle me through the hard teenage years, it was him.

Icame around the corner and made an announcement. “I want to stay with Nic. It’s what mom would have wanted.”