The Devil's Deals

Elena's POV

I stared at my reflection in the mirror, the smudge of dust on my cheek only the last of my troubles. I wiped it off with the back of my hand, feeling the coarseness of the maid's uniform scratch against my skin. This was my life now-a prisoner in my own home. A servant to my stepbrother's whims.

I had to remind myself that it wouldn't last forever. I looked at the clock on the kitchen wall: almost midnight. Victor would be back in a little while, reeking of alcohol and bad decisions. It was at this time of night that he always came back home, expecting everything to shine like new. If they weren't, he'd find some excuse to degradingly belittle me. I steeled myself as I always did for whatever cruelty he would shoot my way.

The house was curiously still, and although I had lived here for years, a sense of intruder injured through me. It had once been a very different place indeed. There was life in this place then, before the death of my father and stepmother, before Victor took over. I could still hear their voices sometimes, laughing in the corridors, calling my name.

I shook off the memory. That life was gone, and clinging to it only made the ache worse. One more year. Just one more year, and I'd inherit my grandfather's estate. With that money, I could finally escape Victor's control and start anew, far from here.

The sound of the front door slamming pulled me out of my reverie. I tensed, and instantly quickened my heartbeat. His heavy footsteps grew louder, a sharp click of his shoes on the tiled floor grating against my nerves.

"Elena!" Victor's voice slurred through the air like a knife. The stench of whiskey already filtered in the room well before he even appeared.

I took a steadying breath. "Victor," I said calmly as he entered the kitchen, his tie hanging loosely around his neck, his shirt untucked. He looked like he'd been in a bar fight, but I knew better. His disheveled appearance was from hours of gambling, drinking, and doing who knows what else with his equally repugnant friends.

He leaned casually against the counter, that cruel gleam in his eye, and grinned. "You've been quiet lately. Sulking around like a little mouse. Think you're better than everyone, don't you?"

"I don't think that," I replied steadily. Never give him the reaction he's looking for.

"Sure you don't," he answered with a bitter laugh. "You feel like some kind of princess waiting for her happy ending. Let me guess-you are just counting the days until you get your inheritance, aren't you?"

I tensed up at that, not really expecting him to bring it up quite so bluntly. "I'm just doing what needs to be done, Victor. That's all."

"Yeah? Well, I've got news for you, little sister. You're not going to be living off that money."

The room seemed to tilt a little. My eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"

Victor's smile went nasty. "You owe me, Elena. For everything. The roof over your head, the food you eat, the clothes on your back. You really think I'd let you coast for another year and not pay your debts?"

"

"I don't owe you anything," I snapped, my voice shriller than I meant it to be. "You've done nothing but-

He snatched my wrist and squeezed until I gasped in pain. Suddenly, his face was inches from mine, eyes wild. "You owe me everything."

I tugged my arm free and took a backward step. "What do you want, Victor?"

He straightened, preening his shirt as if he hadn't just assaulted me. "You're getting married.

The words landed like a kick in the gut. "What?" My voice came out a choked whisper. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," he said, drawing out each word with the languid appreciation of a man savoring some delicacy, "you're going to marry Dante Moretti.

For a second, I couldn't breathe. Dante Moretti. The name was infamous. He was the head of one of the most feared mafia families in the country, rumored to be ruthless and deadly, untouchable. The rumors of people disappearing into thin air-the rivals wiped out in brutal acts of violence-were very well known, likely the stuff nightmares were made of. And Victor just signed me over to him like some sort of chattel.

"No..." My voice shook. "You can't do that."

"I already have," Victor said, his smile spreading further on his face. "In two days, you're going to marry Dante. He's agreed to clear my debts in exchange for you."

My legs buckled and I clutched the counter edge to hold myself up. Sold. I had been sold to the devil, and I hadn't even known it.

"You're lying," I whispered, shaking my head. "You can't sell me like... like a piece of furniture."

"You're right," Victor said, his tone mocking. "It's more like selling a cow. And guess what? Dante's going to milk every last drop out of you before he tosses you aside.

Tears seared my eyes, but I refused to cry in front of him. I wouldn't give him that satisfaction. "Why would you do this? Why would you-"

"Because I can," Victor said coolly. "And because you're nothing but a burden. You've always been a burden, Elena. And now you're my ticket out of debt.

I just stood there numb. My heart raced fast with every second passing by. How was this possible? One year was all I needed, one year before I could get free, and now after two days, I was to be handed over to a man known to be cruel. A man who probably killed them after he got tired of them.

Victor spun around, about to head out of the kitchen, but I was frantic now. "You can't do this, Victor. You-"

""

I already have," he said back to me. "Pack your bags, Elena. Within two days, you will be a Moretti. If I were you, I'd pray he doesn't kill you on your wedding night."

---

The front door slammed shut behind him, wrapping me into smothering silence. I felt myself drowning, gasping for air and finding none. My hands were shaking uncontrollably, my mind spinning.

Sold.

I had been sold off as property to pay for Victor's debts. In two days, I was to marry a monster, a man who had no regret over killing others, who had more blood on his hands than I could ever imagine. And I had no way out.

I dropped into a chair, my hands falling to cover my face. I couldn't stay here. I couldn't marry him. But what could I do? Where could I go? Dante Moretti's reach was big. If I ran, he'd find me. And then... God, I didn't even want to think about what he'd do if I tried to escape.

I needed a plan. Something-anything-that would keep me from walking down that aisle.

The door creaked open again, and I jerked my head up, heart racing. Two men stepped inside, in black suits, their faces unreadable. They looked like bodyguards-or enforcers. The type of man that would do whatever they were told.

One of them stepped forward. "Elena?"

I swallowed hard. "Who are you?"

"We're here on behalf of Mr. Moretti," the man said, his voice flat and emotionless. "You're coming with us."

---