Chapter 2: A Night with the Devil

Isabel let out a cold chuckle. “I’ve already watched the world burn.”

The man leaned closer, he smelled of whiskey and something else. Something that screamed for Isabel to run and never look back. His voice dropped lower.

“Then let me watch you burn… for me.”

A bitter laugh escaped her. “You don’t even know me.”

“Don’t need to.” His gaze dipped to her lips and lingered there. “You’re angry, I am angry. You’re reckless. And so am I.”

Isabel stared at him, Her breath hitched. She should not be here. She should not be close to this man.

She should walk away.

But tonight, she’d already been humiliated, discarded and replaced by her family. Her world was already in ashes.

What was one more mistake?

“Room upstairs,” she muttered, tossing back the last of her drink. “If you’re serious.”

The stranger’s smile curved slowly.

“Coming?” she asked.

The stranger grinned. “Lead the way, bride.”

The hotel room door slammed behind them as h er mouth found his before she could think of what she was doing. Rough, desperate, all tongue and teeth, matching the chaos spinning inside her.

He yanked off her robe and she helped in unbuttoning his shirt. Their bodies collided, skin to skin, hungry, furious.

His hands clamped around her thighs, claiming control as he lifted her to the dresser. The cool texture kissed her thighs as he pressed between them.

“Tell me to stop,” he rasped against her mouth, his voice raw.

Isabel’s eyes burned. “Don’t you dare.”

His mouth devoured her. Their bodies collided once again, fevered and frantic. Her nails scraped down his back as he groaned into her neck, grounding her, wrecking her, reminding her that she wasn’t broken. Not yet.

They tumbled onto the bed, limbs tangled, breaths sharp, skin flushed. His touch was everywhere, greedy and relentless as if he could erase every bad memory with his hands.

Her moans filled the room, mixing with his, as they lost themselves in each other; strangers in the dark, bound by anger, desire, and destruction.

It wasn’t restrained. It wasn’t controlled.

But it was fire.

And for one night, Isabel let it consume her.

****

Caine sat up and rubbed his eyes. He looked at his surroundings. It was a hotel.

“How did I end up here?” He thought to himself.

He remembered sitting at some overpriced wedding for a business associate’s son when his phone buzzed. It was a video of his girlfriend, naked and moaning under another man.

Caine clenched his fists as his jaw tightened at that memory. He turned his head towards the other side of the bed where the woman was supposed to be— the woman he had sex with last night. She was also betrayed by her fiancé.

She was gone. He stood up and looked into the bathroom.

Nothing.

But his eyes caught something: The crisp stack of cash sitting on the nightstand.

His jaw tightened.

A note rested on top, scrawled in messy, lipstick-stained handwriting:

“Thank you for your services,” it read

Caine stared at it, unblinkingly. He couldn't believe his eyes. Him – Caine Romano – reduced to a fool, played and discarded like he was nothing more than some cheap, forgettable fuck.

His fingers curled around the paper, the words cutting deeper than they should.

He would make her pay for her stupidity. Who does she think she is? Does she know who he is, that she would treat him like a regular forgettable whore-man? He would make her learn his name so she would never dare to forget it.

He lit a cigarette as he watched the bundle of money. Who does Isabel Silvarro think she was? He chuckled darkly. Him, the most feared Mafia Lord in the city, reduced into a forgettable body for hire.

He’d comb her down. He would strip the earth bare if it means finding her. And when he does, he will make sure she never forgets him.

He’d make damn sure her name was written in the ashes of every man who ever betrayed him.

She would learn the weight of his name.

Her waking thoughts? His face

Her dreams? His voice

Her every nerve ending? Tied to him

He would drag her to his hell and back, just to show her that no one dares to mess with Caine Romano and lives to tell the story

He would drag her to his hell and back, just to show her that no one dares to mess with Caine Romano and lives to tell the story.

Caine smiled but it didn't reach his eyes which had darkened in anger. Twirling the cigarette in his hands, he took a long drag, puffing the smoke as they filled the room.

In a slow and calculated pace, he dropped the cigarette on the stack of cash but not without retrieving the note.

Flames licked up the edges almost instantly.

"Thanks for your services," Caine repeated, the words felt like poison on his lips.

As smoke curled towards the ceiling, he turned for the door, slipping into his jacket without a glance back.

“You started this, sweetheart,” he muttered, voice like gravel and eyes glinting with danger

“But I’m going to finish it.”