Twisted Devotion

Chapter 1 Mia

MIA

Marble cracked beneath my heels like gunfire as I cut across the grand hall of my cousin’s wedding reception, trying not to choke on dread.

Bystanders weren’t watching with fondness.

They were sticking around to discover what kind of humiliation I’d cause.

In our world, weddings weren’t about love; they were about leverage.

The Moretti name bought power, not happiness, and I’d learned early on that love was a luxury even people like me couldn’t afford.

Every polished smile, every perfect petal, every drop of gold glittered because someone paid for the illusion.

Every single person in this room had ulterior motives for their attendance.

Across the ballroom, my father laughed with his men—easy smile, full glass, the picture of charm.

But I knew better. That laugh was armor.

The louder he laughed, the darker the deal behind it.

As his daughter, I’d seen the worst of him.

Hell, I still had nightmares from seeing him covered in blood coming home when I was five.

It’d been difficult to separate my father into two different versions of himself.

The powerful leader of the family and the loving father.

I peered across the room at my cousin—the bride—radiant in white lace; her smile somehow still soft despite everything she’d lost. Her father. Her brother. The violence we called business. Even so, she glowed beneath the chandeliers.

Her husband spun her across the floor. For a heartbeat, she looked safe. Happy. That was the dream, wasn’t it? Not castles, not crowns—just safety. But her marriage wasn’t all fairytale. It was strategy, survival. In our world, enemies didn’t just destroy; they possessed.

The one thing about her husband, they’d been friends for years.

He might take over his family’s empire, but he’d always had feelings for her.

So when it came time to settle down, he wouldn’t marry anyone else.

At the very least, he’d spend their lives proving his worthiness to her. Maybe one day, I’d be as lucky.

God, what a twisted life we lived. Sometimes I begged for an explanation of why I was born a Moretti—the darkness, the blood, the endless games dressed up as celebration.

I wanted something pure. But part of me, the part I hated most, was drawn to power.

The danger. The man who could ruin me with a touch and make me thank him for it.

Did I aspire to be loved—or owned? Maybe both. Maybe that was the sickness in my bloodline.

Enrico had been chasing after me for five years and still hadn’t grown tired.

Yet, he was the type of man that scared the shit out of me.

All the blood he had on his hands… not exactly the type of man I wanted to sleep next to.

Although, he had a way of making my entire body quiver when he entered the room.

Meredith, one of the house servers, appeared beside me, worry flickering across her face.

“You okay, ma’am? Can I get you anything?”

Her concern made me flush. “I’m fine.”

I turned toward the tall doors at the back of the hall, desperate for air.

Tonight’s events were messing with my head.

It was my turn next. Marriage. Enrico would come for me now and he’d get what he wanted.

My father always put business first. After all, my marriage was just a business transaction made to make our family stronger. As it had been for generations.

“Your cousin has done well,” my father said, eyes glinting with ambition. “An alliance strengthened through marriage. So glad she found a man willing. Men can be so picky these days. Nothing like it used to be.”

The words were a reminder. A warning. I schooled my face into calm, though my chest tightened. He stood as the embodiment of our legacy—his expectation that I’d follow the same path looming like a shadow I couldn’t outrun.

“Yes, they love each other, at least.”

“Love is a rare luxury,” he replied, gaze holding mine. “You understand this.”

My heart rebelled even as my head nodded. How could I tell him I wanted something else? That I craved love, not strategy?

“Si, Papa.”

Satisfied, he turned back to the guests.

I faded into the background again, another ornament in a gilded cage.

My chest continued to wind tight. I thought I had more time.

Now, all eyes were on me. I reached for the door handle to the outside—freedom, or at least a breath of it—when a voice stopped me once more.

“Leaving so soon, Mia?”

Enrico Di Fiore. No one else made my heartbeat stumble like that.

He stood tall, sharp suit, danger carved into every line of him.

His eyes found mine and held, dark and unreadable, as if he could see every secret I’d ever tried to bury.

It’d be much easier to resist his advances if he didn’t look like the poster boy for dark and dangerous.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. He was the last person I needed to see right now while on the verge of a panic attack. “I’m gonna step outside..”

Enrico’s smile curved. “How about you stay with me?”

He offered his hand. Not a question—an order dressed as courtesy.

The orchestra swelled, as if the night itself were holding its breath.

I should have refused. Kept him on his toes.

Instead, I placed my hand in his. The contact burned, electric.

He drew me onto the center of the floor.

His palm settled against the small of my back—steady, claiming—and the waltz caught us, soft and treacherous.

Every motion said mine without a word spoken. Typical Enrico fashion.

This was dangerous. A ticking time bomb just waiting to go off. I wanted him to rip my clothes off and just take me in front of everyone, but that was crazy. But somehow, when he came around me, common sense went out the window.

The crowd blurred; and there Enrico stood. His dark eyes, his deliberate breathing, the faint edge of ink that disappeared beneath his cuff.

I’d spent five years pretending I didn’t feel this—pretending I didn’t want to know what laid beneath that impeccable suit, what it would feel like to stop resisting.

But proximity was its own kind of truth.

We’d never lacked chemistry. The moment we met all those years ago, I wanted to fuck his brains out.

To be honest, he’d only gotten more handsome with age, which was dangerous.

He could have any woman, but he’d had his eyes set on me since the moment we met.

Maybe that was the reason for so much pent up sexual tension… all this time and we hadn’t even kissed.

“You act like you’re trying to escape,” Enrico murmured, his breath a whisper at my temple.

“Maybe I am.”

He smiled, the expression slow and dangerous. “Maybe I should let you.”

The words coiled through me. “You’re very sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

“I’m a Di Fiore after all.”

He spun me then, smooth and practiced, bringing me back against his chest in one seamless motion. The scent of him—smoke, cedar, something darker—wrapped around me. For one reckless second, I leaned in. And suddenly thoughts of dark haired kids running around took over.

No. You will not fall for him. You deserve someone without blood on their hands. Someone with no ties to this sort of life. Run.

I hated I liked the way he felt. I hated that a man like him could make me forget where I was, who I was. Everything about this man was intoxicating.

The music slowed, a haunting turn of strings. His hand tightened, his thumb tracing the edge of exposed skin above my spine. Enrico knew exactly what to do with his hands… and someday I might experience that firsthand.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asked, voice low enough that only I could hear.

“More than I should.”

Something flared behind his gaze—satisfaction, maybe, or warning. He leaned closer until his words brushed my ear. “Imagine a life where this—us—is an everyday thing. Where I can worship your body every night.”

And he had a way with words… dangerous. “My father would call that a strategic alliance.”

Enrico’s mouth curved. “Your father is a man who understands value. Our families would both be even stronger once you agree.”

The statement was too smooth, too rehearsed. It wasn’t just flirtation; it was business. And that truth landed like a stone in my stomach. As much as I’d like to know how good he would feel inside me, danger hadn’t been something on my long list of wanted atrributes.

The waltz faded into applause around us. I slipped free, heart hammering. Everyone was waiting to see what would happen. The most powerful families were in attendance, and Enrico had put a claim on me years ago. “Thank you for the dance.”

I had to get away from him before things got more complicated. Our families weren’t enemies, but they didn’t do weekly dinners either.

“Mia—”

But I was already walking away, the taste of his words lingering like smoke. As much as I’d love to have his hands all over me, even if just for a night, he wasn’t husband material. I refused to marry someone just to make my family’s legacy stronger. No matter how much my body yearned for him.

Outside the ballroom doors, the night air bit against my skin, and I immediately gasped. Tonight pushed me closer to Enrico, to blending our families, and even though my father had never pressured me, it was expected. Right?

My father joined me on the steps. “Did you enjoy the wedding?”

I hesitated. “It was beautiful.”

He studied me. Then he offered his arm. “Let’s go home, shall we?” The driver opened the door; we slid into the back seat.

The city unfurled outside the window—gold lights, long shadows, all movement and silence. I pressed my palm against the cool glass; it blurred as we drove.

Father poured a drink from the decanter built into the console, his rings glinting in the low light. “You danced with Enrico, tonight. I thought you wanted nothing to do with him?”

I turned from the window. “Would you rather I’d made a scene?” And what a stupid question that was… no one embarrassed Enrico Di Fiore.

A small smile ghosted across his face. “No. A woman must learn which moments to resist and which to use.” He took a slow sip, studying me over the rim of the glass. “Tell me, did he speak to you about the future?”

The air thinned. “Briefly.”

“And?”

I forced a shrug. “He was…predictable. It’s all about business. He’s not the man for me.”

Father’s laugh was low. “Enrico is many things, but not predictable. He’s persistent, and persistence is power. Remember that.”

I traced the seam of my dress, gathering courage. “I don’t want my life to be arranged like a business deal.”

He took a second, swishing the liquid in his glass. “You think I would trade you?”

I met his gaze, knowing he was just trying to play the role of a good father. “Wouldn’t you?”

His hand found mine, strong, warm, grounding. “You are my heart, Mia. I’ve fought too long to protect this family to throw your happiness away for profit. However, I think Enrico has been patiently waiting.”

Love in our world always came tangled with power, and I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. “I want to believe you.”

“Then do.” His tone softened. “Enrico is not your fate unless you choose him. I’ll see to that. Business has never been better. We don’t need an alliance, which means you are free to marry who you wish.”

The promise sat heavy between us. I wanted to trust it, to believe the man who’d built empires from loyalty and fear could also keep me safe from the same system.

The car slowed as the estate came into view—iron gates, endless stone. I stepped into the cold again, the house towering, muted and still. My footsteps echoed up the stairs.

I stood before the mirror; the girl in the reflection caught between longing and legacy. My father’s promise still echoed in my head, but beneath it was Enrico’s voice—low, certain, dangerous. He wasn’t someone who gave up easily or used to hearing no.

Tonight, I’d make myself one vow.

I won’t be anyone’s bargaining chip. Not my father’s. Not Enrico’s. Not anyone’s. But what happens to a woman who says no to men like him?