The rest of the ride to his mansion was suffocating. Not because of silence,although the air was thick enough to choke on. But because every inch of that blacked-out car screamed trap.
I sat rigid, arms crossed, staring out the window like I wasn't aware of his eyes burning holes into the side of my face.
"So," I finally said, because quiet has always been my enemy. "What's the deal? You buy girls at auctions for fun or was I just a rare collectible you couldn't resist?"
His voice slid through the air, smooth and lethal. "You talk too much."
"And you glower too much. We all have our hobbies."
A pause. Then, in that deep, velvety tone that made my insides clench in ways I didn't approve of, he said, "Keep testing me, and you'll find out exactly how I punish women who forget their place."
My thighs clenched together so fast it was embarrassing. My face stayed neutral, but inside? Pure chaos.
Horny chaos.
What is this?
"Punish me severely, huh?" I muttered before I could stop myself. Then, realizing how that sounded, I added quickly, "I mean. Ugh, don't get excited. I didn't mean it like that."
The Devil finally turned his head, his steel-grey eyes catching mine. A smirk curved his mouth. It was sharp, mocking and devastatingly sexy. "You sounded excited."
I swallowed hard. "Yeah, well… I choke on air sometimes too. Doesn't mean I'm in love with oxygen."
The bodyguard in the front seat snorted. Luciano's glare in the rearview mirror nearly killed him on the spot.
We finally got to his mansion.
Luciano stepped out first, straightening to his full, terrifying height. One of the guards opened my door, but I yanked it myself just to prove a point. I barely had time to step out before a strong hand wrapped around my arm.
I knew I was in trouble the second his hand closed around my arm.
"Hey!" I snapped, twisting. But his grip was firm, unyielding.
"Lesson one," he murmured, low enough that only I heard. "You go where I take you."
Something traitorous sparked in my belly at the roughness of his hold. My pulse fluttered, and I hated myself for it.
His grip wasn't gentle. It wasn't cruel either. It was… controlled. Like everything about him. Luciano de Rossi didn't need to shove, didn't need to yank, didn't need to prove his strength. His grip said it all. Steel wrapped in flesh. Unyielding. Unbreakable. A silent reminder that my body was no longer mine.
And God help me, the pressure of his palm against my bare skin sent a hot, treacherous rush straight down between my thighs.
I hated myself instantly.
"Careful there, Lucifer," I said brightly, pretending my body wasn't betraying me. "If you keep manhandling me like this, people will think we're dating."
His head turned slightly, the faintest flicker of amusement ghosting across his sharp features. "Dating? That's cute. Try owning."
My stomach did a somersault. My mouth, unfortunately, didn't get the memo to shut up. "Wow, romantic. Do I get flowers with that ownership or just the occasional death glare?"
The bodyguard closest to us made a sound like he was strangling on his own laughter. Luciano didn't even look at him. He didn't have to. The poor man stiffened, face draining of color, as if laughing near the Devil was a death wish.
Meanwhile, I was still being dragged toward the mansion like a misbehaving child. Only children don't usually start squirming because the grip on their arm feels like a fantasy they shouldn't be having.
I was going to Hell. No, scratch that. I was already in Hell. And the Devil owned me.
His mansion was a monster.
All cold marble and sprawling halls, the kind of place that felt designed to swallow you whole. The front doors slammed shut behind us with the kind of finality that made my stomach knot.
I turned in a slow circle, arms folded, pretending I wasn't impressed. "Nice. Gothic vampire chic. Do coffins come with the place, or do you have to buy those separately?"
Luciano didn't react. He simply started walking and like an idiot, I followed. His stride was slow but commanding, every movement screaming control.
"This is your prison," he said finally, voice echoing against the stone walls. "You'll eat here, sleep here, obey here."
"Prison," I echoed. "Cute branding, Lucifer. Do I get an orange jumpsuit, or do you prefer chains and leather?"
His hand shot out without warning, wrapping firmly around my throat.
I froze. My breath hitched, eyes widening as he tilted my head up with frightening ease. His grip wasn't cutting off air. Yet. But the sheer power in it… my body trembled and not entirely with fear. Heat pooled low in my belly, traitorous and hot.
"You talk too much," he said softly, eyes gleaming with dark amusement. "But maybe that mouth of yours can be… repurposed."
My pulse went haywire. My thighs pressed tighter together, and I hated myself for it.
Still, I managed to rasp, "If you wanted me speechless, you could've just kissed me."
His smirk deepened. He released me abruptly and I stumbled back, breath ragged, skin tingling where his hand had been.
I was wet. Completely, humiliatingly wet.
Lucifer was going to ruin me.
He led me through hall after endless hall, pointing out rules like he was reading commandments off a stone tablet.
"You do not leave this property."
"You will not speak unless spoken to."
"You will not touch what isn't yours."
I raised my hand like a student in class. "Quick question. What is mine?"
His eyes flicked to me, glinting. "Nothing. Except the clothes I allow on your back."
"Wow. Generous. Do I get socks or is barefoot suffering part of the Devil package?"
"You'll be staying in the east wing. You're not to set foot in the west wing." His eyes flicked to me, sharp. "Especially my study. Step inside, and you'll regret it."
I smirked, masking my unease. "What is this, Beauty and the Beast? Should I expect a singing teapot?"
His gaze lingered, heavy. "You'll find I'm not nearly as forgiving as the Beast."
He took me to the west wing I wasn't supposed to go to and then, his jaw tightened. "This is the west wing. You're never allowed here under any circumstance. And most importantly…" He stopped in front of a set of heavy double doors. His study, clearly. The air itself seemed to thrum with warning. "You will never enter this room. Ever. If you do—" His gaze locked on mine, cold and merciless. "I will punish you severely."
There it was again. Punish severely.
And there it was again. My body's traitorous, molten response. My cheeks flushed as my nipples tightened beneath the thin dress, heat rushing between my thighs so fast I nearly swayed.
I prayed to every god that he couldn't smell arousal.
"Punish me severely," I whispered, dazed, then caught myself and coughed. "I mean, that's… terrifying. Very scary. Ooooh." I wiggled my fingers in fake fear.
Luciano's lips twitched. "You're insane."
"Maybe," I shot back. "But at least I'm not boring."
The bodyguard nearest us muttered under his breath, "Girl's got a death wish."
I flashed him a grin. "You get me."
Luciano ignored both of us, striding forward again, his voice echoing, "Try to run, and you'll fail. If you fail, you'll wish you hadn't tried."
My mouth opened before my brain caught up. "Wow. You're really big on motivational speeches, huh? You should write greeting cards. 'Congrats on your escape attempt! Sorry you got tortured instead.'"
The same bodyguard nearly choked holding in laughter. When Luciano's eyes flicked toward him, the poor man went pale.
But for the first time, I thought I saw something strange in Luciano's expression. Not just annoyance. Not just control. Something hotter. Something that made my pulse skitter.
Interest.
Hours later,when he shoved me gently but firmly toward a polished staircase, my pulse hadn't slowed once. Every command felt like a chain, and every chain somehow made my body buzz with an excitement I didn't dare name.
I stood at a grand wooden door. My room, apparently. I caught one of the guards glancing at me. When Luciano's footsteps faded down the hall, the man leaned close.
"Don't play with him," the guard murmured. "The Devil doesn't forgive."
For a second, fear clawed at me. Then my mouth did what it always did. It betrayed me.
"Well," I whispered back, eyes wide with mock seriousness, "guess I should start a scrapbook before he kills me. You want to be page one?"
The guard blinked, completely thrown off. I swear he muttered a prayer as he stalked away.
Finally alone, I stumbled into the lavish bedroom. It was bigger than my old apartment. The gold-framed mirrors, silk sheets all looked more like a trap than comfort.
I collapsed face-first onto the impossibly soft bed.
My body was buzzing. Every nerve lit up. Every thought tangled between fear and… need.
Luciano de Rossi terrified me. He also made me wetter than I'd ever been in my life.
And that was a problem.
I rolled onto my back, staring at the high ceiling. "One thing about me," I muttered to myself, "tell me not to do something, and suddenly it's all I want to do."
I smirked bitterly. "So congratulations, Lucifer. Now I have to escape."
Even if I wasn't sure I wanted to.
Because part of me… the stupid, aching, forbidden part of me… wanted to stay and find out exactly what punishment from the Devil felt like.