Hinovel
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Kidnapped and Forced Into Marriage By The Don
Summary
“Crawl to me, little kitten…” His voice is low. Merciless. The kind of voice that sinks beneath your skin and coils around your throat like a chain. I came to Italy chasing freedom. A girls’ trip filled with expensive wine, reckless laughter, and golden streets kissed by the sun. I thought I was escaping my old life. Instead, I walked straight into hell. Because one drunken mistake was enough for the Italian mafia to find me. Enough for him to claim me. Alessandro Vercelli — a man carved from violence and power, dressed in charcoal Armani, his tattooed knuckles stained with blood and sin. He did not take me for ransom. He took me for revenge. My father refused his alliance. So Alessandro decided to take the only thing my father could never refuse. Me. By sunrise, I am forced into a marriage sealed with blood and ancient vows whispered beneath candlelight. A crimson-stained ring slides onto my finger like a death sentence. “Now your father belongs to me too.” The palace he keeps me in is beautiful enough to fool the world, but beneath the silk sheets and marble walls lies a cage built for obedience. Armed men guard every doorway. Secrets crawl through the halls like ghosts. And at the center of it all stands Alessandro. Cruel. Possessive. Untouchable. A monster who would burn kingdoms for me while destroying every piece of who I used to be. I hate him. I fear him. But the worst part is the way my body betrays me whenever his dark eyes settle on mine. Every touch feels like ownership. Every promise sounds like a threat. Every night becomes a war between running from him… or surrendering completely. I am Mia Vercelli now. And in Alessandro’s world, love is not gentle. It is obsession. It is brutality. It is devotion sharpened into a weapon. This is the story of how I was stolen by the mafia… and forced to become the wife of the devil who may either ruin me completely or protect me with blood on his hands until my final breath. Because when Alessandro Vercelli chooses you, there is no escape. Only a one-way descent into hell. And now… the devil demands an heir.
1
Mia DeLuca
02 June 2025
“Bye, Mom,” I whisper as I slip into the backseat of the car.
She smiles softly, raising her hand in a delicate wave until the door closes between us. Only then do I finally let myself breathe.
The moment the car begins to move, relief settles deep inside my chest.
I am the daughter of a Capo in the Chicago crime family, and freedom has always felt like something forbidden to me. My life has been monitored, calculated, controlled. I grew up behind iron gates and dark tinted windows, surrounded by armed men with hollow expressions and watchful eyes. My father, Giovanni DeLuca, is powerful, feared, and painfully traditional. He believes in loyalty, discipline, and absolute protection. Violence has always existed around me, yet he keeps me carefully shielded from it, molding me into the perfect daughter he can someday offer in a strategic marriage.
But today, I am leaving.
For the first time in my life, I am traveling without guards following my every move. It takes weeks of begging, careful promises, and endless persuasion before my father finally agrees. One week, he tells me. Only one week of freedom.
Even now, it feels impossible.
It is Sofia’s birthday. She is turning twenty three, and we are flying to Italy together. Just four girls. Sofia, her cousins Bridget and Aria, and me. No guards. No rules. No suffocating shadows from Chicago following us everywhere we go.
We planned this trip for wine, sunlight, beaches, history, and escape.
The car stops outside the airport. My driver steps out immediately and removes my pink suitcase from the trunk. I tighten my hold around my Chanel bag and glance around the crowded entrance.
“Mia!”
Sofia’s voice slices through the noise. I turn and spot her hurrying toward me, her dark blue eyes glowing with excitement. Her almost blonde hair falls freely down her back. She wears loose black pants, a jacket, and white Nike shoes. She looks effortlessly beautiful, almost unreal, like a Barbie doll brought to life.
I roll my suitcase toward her, and she throws her arms around me instantly.
“I am so excited for this trip,” she says breathlessly as she pulls away.
“Yes,” I laugh. “Freedom for a week.”
Bridget and Aria join us moments later. Aria is a brunette like me, graceful and slim, with deep brown eyes that always seem thoughtful. Bridget has long black hair, thick lashes, and the kind of perfect face that belongs on the cover of a luxury magazine.
The four of us hug together, laughing loudly, unable to hide our excitement.
“This is the trip we always dreamed about,” Aria says. “And now we are finally doing it.”
“I swear I will only relax once the plane takes off,” Sofia says dramatically, fanning herself.
Bridget laughs softly. “Relax. This is going to be the most unforgettable trip of our lives.”
Smiling brightly, I reach into my handbag. “That is exactly why I bought this.”
I pull out a tiny pink instant camera and hold it up proudly. “Come on. Airport picture.”
We gather close together, laughing and posing while I press the button. The flash lights up around us. Slowly, the picture slides from the camera, and we wait for it to develop.
I grin immediately. “Oh my God.”
I show them the photo.
“This is perfect for memories,” Sofia says softly.
“I am definitely keeping it,” I reply, sliding it carefully back into my bag.
After security and boarding, we finally settle into our seats. We were supposed to fly business class, but we decided to sit in economy instead so we could spend the extra money on shopping, alcohol, and parties later. Girl math.
Sofia sits by the window while Bridget and Aria take the seats behind us. The flight is long, nearly nine exhausting hours, and we promise to switch seats halfway through.
As the plane rises into the sky, I put on my headphones and flip through a magazine filled with photographs of Italy. Certain words immediately capture my attention. Ciao bella. Amore. Pasta. Pizza. Limoncello.
Rome. Amalfi Coast. Sicily.
Our plan is simple. One day in Rome. One day along the Amalfi Coast. Then the rest of the trip in Sicily, where we rented a beachfront villa so we could live like queens for a week.
I have never visited Italy before, even though my blood traces back there. Sicilian blood. Something about returning to the land of my ancestors feels strangely beautiful, almost haunting.
Eleven hours later, we stand outside our hotel in Rome beneath the dark evening sky. It is already eight at night.
“We should get inside before dinner ends,” Aria says quickly.
The butlers collect our luggage while a hostess guides us into a lavish restaurant overlooking the swimming pool. Golden lights shimmer across the blue water. The air smells unfamiliar here, rich with basil, oregano, and something ancient lingering beneath it all.
For my first course, I order perch ravioli stuffed with fish, white butter, sage, and walnuts.
The taste makes my eyes widen instantly. This is nothing like the food my mother cooks back home. This tastes real. Authentic. This tastes like Italy itself.
For the main course, I choose duck breast served with Belgian endive and red berry sauce.
“This is genuinely the best food I have ever tasted,” I murmur after the first bite.
“The Italian food our parents make at home tastes nothing like this,” Aria says sarcastically.
Sofia laughs loudly. “They have been lying to us our entire lives.”
“Maybe they do not even know what real Italian food tastes like,” Bridget adds teasingly.
I shake my head with a smile. “My mother has been to Italy countless times. She definitely knows. She just never cooks like this.”
“We literally had to leave Chicago to discover the truth,” Sofia says dramatically.
For dessert, I order warm chocolate cake while sipping expensive red wine. After dinner, we wander near the pool, admiring the beauty surrounding the hotel. The girls continue talking endlessly, their laughter drifting through the warm Roman night.
I listen quietly, smiling as I sip my wine. Exhaustion presses heavily against me now. The jet lag makes my thoughts feel distant and dreamlike.
Then suddenly, I feel it.
A presence.
Like unseen eyes lingering against my skin. Like someone has been watching me for a very long time.
I shake the feeling away and lift my glass again, convincing myself it is only exhaustion playing tricks on my mind. My friends continue laughing around me, careless and alive, but the feeling refuses to disappear. It clings to me like a silent warning whispered through the dark.
I glance once more beyond the glowing pool lights and find nothing except endless shadows stretching deeper into the night.
Somewhere beyond the line where light dies and darkness begins, an unseen gaze remains fixed on me, cold, patient, and waiting, as though fate itself has finally decided to claim me.