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Chapter 7 : The Rules of the House

Penulis: Jayce_A
last update Tanggal publikasi: 2026-07-16 21:30:48

Mrs. Bellini was already at my door when I opened my eyes, like she’d been standing there waiting for the exact second I woke up, and she didn’t wait for me to invite her in. She just stepped inside with a tray and the kind of posture that said she ran this house and everyone in it.

“Good morning, Mrs. Alighieri,” she said, setting down coffee and warm bread on the table by the window. “The Don asked me to show you the estate after breakfast.”

I was still drowning in his robe from yesterday, sl
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    Marco didn’t go home after the club. He drove. No destination. Just through the city while it was still light. He needed to think without the piano or Leo or Ana asking if he was okay. The SUV wasn’t his. It wasn’t Dante’s. Cameras wiped in minutes. That wasn’t luck. That was money, planning, and people who knew where not to be. He ended up in Queens. A street with laundromats and locksmiths and a coffee shop that had been there since he was a kid. He parked and went inside. The woman behind the counter didn’t look up. "Back room," she said. Marco nodded and went through the curtain. The back room smelled like old paper and coffee that had been on too long. Books everywhere. Files. A radio playing jazz low. Vera was at the table. Seventies. Glasses on a chain. She was reading something and eating a sandwich. "You don’t visit unless something’s wrong," she said without looking up. "I’m offended," Marco said, sitting down. "No, you’re bored when things are right," Vera sai

  • Bound To The Devil's contract    Chapter 26 : Another Side of the Board

    The club was empty at 3 PM and it was supposed to be that way.Dark wood. Low lights. The air smelled like whiskey, lemon oil, and the ghost of last night’s cigarette smoke even though no one had smoked inside in years. The piano on the small stage was closed. Two staff were setting tables with cloth napkins and glasses that caught the light. No music. Just the sound of chairs scraping and someone sweeping in the back."Mr. DeLuca," Matteo said from the host stand. He’d been here since Marco opened the place ten years ago. "Your office is ready. Ana already put your water out.""Thank you, Matteo," Marco said. He didn’t go to the office.He went to the bar instead. He liked it better when the room was empty. When it was his. Before the reservations and the suits and the people who came here to be seen.Ana was behind the bar polishing glasses. She didn’t look up. "You’re early.""I’m always early," Marco said, sitting down."You’re early and you look like you didn’t sleep."Marco d

  • Bound To The Devil's contract    Chapter 25 : Unfinished Business

    By the time Dante arrived, the arcade was already normal again. People with shopping bags. A teenager arguing about phone chargers. The smell of pretzels and perfume. The gray SUV was gone. Only tire marks on the curb and a wet spot where a tow truck had been. Elena was sitting on a bench outside with the peonies in her lap. She looked fine. She looked annoyed. Bianca was standing next to her. No sunglasses. Arms crossed. She hadn’t said anything in ten minutes, which was how Elena knew something was actually wrong. Dante got out before the first SUV had fully stopped. Lorenzo was already scanning the street. Two other men were talking to the security guard at the arcade entrance. "You’re okay," Dante said. It wasn’t a question. "I’m fine," Elena said. She stood up. The peonies shook in her hands. "I didn’t even know anything was wrong until Bianca started whispering into her sleeve like she was in a spy movie." Bianca didn’t look at him. "I wasn’t imagining it," she said qui

  • Bound To The Devil's contract    Chapter 24 : SUVs

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  • Bound To The Devil's contract    Chapter 23 : Paparazzi

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    Morning didn’t come in quiet. It came in black SUVs. I knew something was wrong before I even opened my eyes because the house was already humming. Not the normal staff-moving-around hum. The kind of hum that sounds like a held breath. By seven the front courtyard looked like we were expecting a president. Black cars lined up past the gates. Men in suits that cost more than my college tuition got out and didn’t smile at anyone. They carried briefcases. Leo once told me briefcases in this house were just polite gun cases. I was on the second floor landing with a mug of coffee that I wasn’t drinking when Mrs. Bellini rushed past with a garment bag over her arm. “What is all this?” I asked. She didn’t stop. “The gala, dear.” “For charity?” She finally paused and gave me that look mothers give you when you’re being naive. “The charity is real.” I waited. She zipped the bag shut. “The people attending are not.” Great. By nine the mansion had stopped pretending to b

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