His Dark Desire: The Devil’s Bride

Bella’s POV

The flight back to Venice dragged like a death sentence, but I didn’t sleep.

I kept picturing my mother’s arms around me the second we landed. She was the only one who never obeyed Dad’s order to cut me off completely.

Secret bank transfers.

Burner phones at 2 a.m. just to hear my voice.

I needed her now more than ever.

The car rolled through the gates, and the mansion rose in front of me like a tomb.

Same manicured lawns. Same marble steps. Same silence that swallowed screams.

It didn’t feel like home.

It felt like a cage I’d voluntarily walked back into.

Rafael squeezed my hand as we stepped out. “Breathe, Bella. He’s not going to kill you.”

“I gave a short laugh, dry and humourless. “That’s easy for you to say. He didn’t threaten to cut you off and erase your existence.”

“You were a kid and you were in love. He was angry. He’s cooled off since then.”

I didn’t answer. I just kept staring, unsure whether to run away or march forward.

The door creaked open before we even knocked. Rosa — the help, stood there, her eyes wide, her hand flying to her mouth. “Dios mío… Isabella?”

I managed a tired smile. “Hey, Rosa.”

She pulled me into a tight hug, murmuring prayers in Spanish as if trying to hold me together with her arms. For a second, I let her. Let the familiarity wash over me.

Inside, everything smelled like money and million-dollar deals.

I strolled through the hallway, running my fingers over the edges of framed family portraits. I used to belong in these walls. Now I wasn’t so sure.

Rafael didn’t speak again until we reached the main hall. “He’s in his study.”

“Of course he is,” I muttered.

Alejandro Mendoza—my father, the man who built an empire and buried emotions beneath it, stood by the window, reading something with too much intensity.

He didn’t look at me, but he could tell when I stepped into the room.

“I see you finally came to your senses,” he said without turning.

“Micah cheated,” I answered, voice flat.

He turned then, one eyebrow raised. “I’m not surprised. I told you that boy was trash.”

I didn’t have the energy to fight that battle again.

“Where’s Mom?”

“Milan. She doesn’t know you’re here.” His eyes flicked over me—cheap jeans, tired eyes, broken pride. “And she won’t. Not until you’ve earned the right.”

He gestured to the chair like I was a business associate, not his daughter.

“Sit.”

I obeyed, every movement slow, my stomach twisting.

For a long moment, he just stood there, his hands folded behind his back, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in my worn frame, the exhaustion that clung to me like a second skin.

Then, without a trace of warmth, he spoke.

“What really brings you here, Bella?”

I swallowed hard. “I just… I had nowhere else to go. And I was tired of running. I want my place back in the family. However, I have to earn it.”

He gave a slight nod, the barest hint of a smirk twitching at the corner of his lips like he was savouring some private joke only he understood. “Then you’ll have to follow my rules.”

Really? No welcome. No soft words. Just that —an order?

I braced myself.

He turned to pour a glass of scotch, his movements slow and cold. The golden liquid caught the light, glowing like a warning.

When he spoke again, his voice was smooth but sharp like a razor.

“I said I’d give you a future.”

His eyes flicked briefly to mine, but he looked through me, not at me.

“Your mother and I wanted to speak with you before you decided to run off with that riffraff.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Speak to me about what?”

He took a slow step forward, the quiet confidence of a man who knew he had me trapped.

“Before you ran off, there were some ties I had to cut loose and some that needed fixing.”

“Where are you going with this?”

I asked, sitting up straight.

“Let’s just say I made some decisions and crossed some people. And in order to correct that, I need to make an alliance. And as the saying goes — the enemy of my enemy is my friend. And you, my child —are going to be the wife of my new friend.”

The words felt like a cold snap to my face. “What did you just say?” I asked, like I didn’t hear him right.

My father didn’t flinch. “You’re getting married, Bella.”

My heart dropped. “What…to whom?”

“Matteo Moretti.”

My mouth went dry. Matteo Moretti? That name wasn’t just familiar, it was a damn warning.

“You want me to marry that sleaze?” I snapped, standing from the couch. “The man who used to traffic girls and have them dance half-naked in his clubs for fun? That’s the kind of man you want me to spend the rest of my life with?”

He gave a slight shrug. “He’s agreed to make changes. For your sake.”

I laughed. Not because it was funny, but because it was insane. “You think a man like that changes? You’re delusional if you believe—”

“Enough. This isn’t a negotiation, Isabella,” he growled, his voice low and sharp. “You left this family. You spat on everything we stood for because you thought you’d found love with a fucking nobody. And what did it get you? Humiliation. A waitress's uniform. Betrayal.”

“You’re selling me to that animal?” I screamed. “You hate him! Everyone knows what he is!”

“I hate weakness more,” he said calmly. “You showed the world this family could be humiliated. Matteo’s name erases that stain. You will smile, you will say yes, and you will give him whatever he wants on your wedding night. Do you understand?”

I couldn’t breathe.

“You threw away your future for love,” he continued, stepping closer. “Now you’ll secure mine with obedience.”

I laughed—sharp, ugly, hysterical. “I can’t believe you’re doing this to me dad? Is this my punishment?”

“I’m correcting a mistake,” he said. “Be ready. The wedding takes place in a month.”

He walked out. The door shut. And silence filled the room.

I stood there shaking, nails digging crescents into my palms.

I came home to escape one hell…

and walked straight into a worse one.

I’d rather set myself on fire than let Matteo Moretti touch me in that church.

His name tasted bitter, like poison lingering on my tongue.

I wanted to scream, to run, to claw my way out of this nightmare—but my legs felt weak, refusing to move.

I’d rather rot than wear that man’s ring.

But what choice did I have?

I’d walked away from this life three years ago. Burned every bridge on my way out. Now I was back, and I wasn’t the girl I used to be. I had no leverage, no freedom, and no voice.

I left Micah only to be handed over to a man ten times worse. A man who saw women as trophies. As property.

And now I was about to be chained to him. Sold to a creepy drug dealer who knew nothing but sex and getting high.

I wondered what my father had gotten himself into to hand me over to someone like that.

Was it for protection? For security? But from whom? Who was he hiding or running from?

I couldn’t let this happen. I couldn’t marry Matteo.

And I would do anything…to make sure that doesn’t happen.