Devil’s Lily: A Dark Mafia Romance (Nightshades Book 1)

The suffocating sensation hits like a wave. It’s like I’m underwater, drowning; something is weighing my legs down so I can’t even swim up. The surface glimmers far above, unreachable, no rescue in sight. But the worst part? The bitter knowledge that I put myself in this position. I trusted someone I knew I shouldn’t have, and now I’m not just in danger—I’ve dragged Atë and Roan into this nightmare too.

My fingers won’t stop shaking as I grip the pen. Maximo’s dark eyes drill into me, tracking every twitch and tremor as I sign the prenup. The man never stops watching. At first, those eyes used to make my skin tingle with excitement—still do, damn him straight to hell. Even after his awful betrayal shattered everything, my body betrays me with little sparks of heat, and I hate it. So I force myself to go numb instead. He won’t get the satisfaction of seeing how he affects me.

I can’t believe I willingly gave that bastard my first kiss.

My heart aches and hot tears threaten to spill over, but I blink them back fiercely. He doesn’t get to see my tears—not one single drop. He doesn’t get anything from me anymore. After I finish signing, he adds his own signature as well and tucks the paper into his jacket pocket like it’s just another business deal. Maybe to him, it is.

As we exit his jet, followed by three of his men, he dares to place a possessive hand on my waist, and I stiffen instantly, increasing my pace so his hand falls away. He doesn’t get to touch me.

I swallow hard, forcing down the bile that rises with each vivid replay of the sniper’s scope fixed on Atë as he took his blood pressure pill, completely oblivious to the threat a heartbeat away. I’m the only one who knows about the doctor’s warning, that he needs to take it easy after his blood pressure suddenly went through the roof last month. I was the one who nagged him to take those pills, and now… I’m the reason he has to.

The tears win their battle, spilling down my cheeks as I descend the jet’s short stairs. Dammit. I grit my teeth, forcing my legs to keep moving, though each step feels like I’m sinking further under this weight. Toughen the fuck up, Elira!

I quickly wipe the tears away, dragging in deep breaths until the pressure in my chest eases. Tears won’t solve anything. Tears won’t save anyone.

Maximo falls into step next to me, pointing towards two hulking SUVs with the windows blacked out parked several feet away from the jet in the middle of the deserted airstrip.

As we near the vehicles, the setting sun dips lower, which makes no sense. It was still mid-morning when he drugged me. My heart jitters. Did I really lose all those hours? Or is this some twisted, time-zone trick? Ugh, I don’t even know what time zone we’re in anymore. Everything feels wrong, distorted.

A mountain of a man emerges from the first SUV’s driver’s side and opens the back door. I scramble inside, scooting so far up against the opposite door I can feel the handle digging into my side. Let him see exactly how far I want to be away from him. I don’t care if it’s childish.

Maximo’s face is pulled into a scowl as he gets in next to me, but I keep my face turned to the window, shutting him out. The door closes behind him with a firm thud, and our driver hustles back to his seat, starting the engine and pulling away from the airstrip.

Outside, the desert stretches out, bathed in the fiery glow of the setting sun. It’s breathtaking in a way, but I can’t muster any awe for it. My mind is miles away, trapped in the cold realization that, in mere hours, I’ll be married to this ruthless man next to me.

Why me?

He’s still relatively young, filthy rich, and so annoyingly handsome. A man like him could snap his fingers and have a line of willing women at his feet.

The irony hits hard: if he’d just let me leave after what I stupidly thought was a magical date, he probably could have had me on his terms anyway. I’d have been curious enough, enticed enough to come back, again and again. And if he’d proposed a few months down the line, I might have been blissfully happy saying yes, drunk on the fantasy of him.

Heck, even learning his true identity might not have scared me off right away. That’s how thoroughly he had bewitched me in just one day.

The silence in the SUV is oppressive and crackles with angry tension as we drive to who-knows-where. For a moment, I wonder what reason he has to be angry. I’m the victim here!

But I push it out of my head, because the anger creeping into my oasis of numbness only invites hurt along with it. I’d rather stay numb—feel nothing at all. It’s the only thing keeping me sane.

The minutes drag until the city rises around us from the desert—towering skyscrapers, flashy hotels, and neon-bright casinos everywhere. In another life, I’d be pressing my nose to the window in wonder. But right now, I just stare, unfazed.

The SUV weaves past the gaudy heart of the strip, stopping at a smaller building with white bricks and imposing columns. My stomach drops as I recognize it—the courthouse. The place where my freedom ends.

Maximo extends his hand to help me out, but I ignore it completely. Instead, I fling my door open and jump out on my own.

When I glance at him, his hands are curled into fists as he stares at me with fire blazing in his onyx eyes. I round the SUV with my head held high, and with a trail of his men behind us, we climb up into the civic building.

In the lobby, Maximo stops me with a hand on my elbow, igniting a surge of heat that pierces right through my fog. The arousal hits hard, unwanted, and right on its heels is anger—at him, at my traitorous body that still responds to his touch. I yank my elbow out of his grip, meeting his sharp glare with one of my own.

“Here.” He takes a small box out of his pocket and hands it to me. What now? I narrow my eyes, not ready to trust anything coming from him, but curiosity gets the better of me. The box feels kind of weighty as I take it, practically pulsing with bad omens.

What’s inside? Something to reinforce the trap he’s set? A USB loaded with another reminder that he owns my life—and my family’s?

But when I flip it open, I forget how to breathe.

Nestled inside is a rose gold ring, scattered with tiny diamonds along the band, all leading up to a huge cushion-cut diamond at the center. The light catches every facet, sending tiny prisms of color dancing across my skin. Wow. It’s so big, so brilliantly clear, it has to be at least fifteen carats, if not more.

But the awe fades as fast as it flared up, leaving only cold reality. My lips curve down. This isn’t romance—this ring is nothing but a symbol of his threat over me, a reminder that this kidnapping and marriage shenanigan was premeditated by him. How else could he have something this elaborate ready so quickly?

He knew exactly what he wanted, even when he pretended to help me escape. When he spent the day with me, acting like he cared, like he actually wanted to show me the best view of the city. And I fell for it all. He must think I’m such a fool.

“Do you like it?” he asks, watching my face closely, almost like he’s… hopeful. “It’s your engagement ring. We can get another one if it’s not your style.”

“It’s fine,” I say, keeping my voice as flat as possible as I slip it on. Despite myself, a small tremor rolls down my spine when the heavy rock settles perfectly on my finger. I love it, damn him. And damn him for knowing my size. “It’s not like this is a real marriage, so it doesn’t matter,” I add. It doesn’t matter if I love it.

Ohh, he doesn’t like that answer. His eyes flash with something that might be hurt before he masks it. Good. Let him hurt. Let him feel a fraction of what he’s put me through. I curl my fingers, letting the heavy stone dig into my skin.

What did he expect anyway? That I’d squeal with delight, throw myself into his arms, declare my love of the ring, and thank him? If so, he’s crazier than I thought and suffering from severe delusion.

“Ready to be my wife?” he asks, and my heart betrays me yet again with a treacherous skip.

“It’s not like I can say no without signing my family’s death warrant.” The words land heavy, and yeah, he doesn’t like that answer either. His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t snap back. Just spins on his heel in silence, leaving me to trail after him into a small, nearly empty courtroom.

The only person waiting for us is the man behind the counter-thingy—the justice of peace? Magistrate? I don’t know what he’s called. All I know is he’s here to make this twisted arrangement official.

We stop in front of him, and I fidget, feeling the heavy weight of Maximo’s ring on my finger like a brand. The pretty jewelry nothing more than chains shackling me to him.

The ceremony passes in a blur, too fast to fully grasp. When the official asks if I’m here willingly, I almost laugh—no, but my family’s lives are excellent motivation. A quick check of IDs, a few nods, and suddenly Maximo is saying “I do” In a deep, confident voice like he’s been dreaming of this moment. And then it’s my turn.

I lick my lips nervously and croak out my, “I do.”

The words feel like they’re coming from someone else, a thousand miles away. But apparently, it’s enough for the official who gives a short nod and says, “I now pronounce you man and wife.” And that quickly, the trajectory of my life changes.

The room spins, almost like it did when I drank that sedated water. Just as I’m about to lose my balance, Maximo’s arms are around me, steadying me and pulling me closer than I want. Meanwhile, the official drones on, “You may kiss the bride.”

My eyes go wide when Maximo leans down, aiming right for my lips. No. Never again. At the last second, I turn my head so his lips brush over my cheeks instead. His fingers dig into my back almost painfully before he releases me like I’ve just burned him.

We sign the marriage license, and before I even have a chance to process it, we’re leaving the courthouse and getting back into the SUV.

“What was that in there?” he asks as he slides in next to me.

“What was what?” I ask tonelessly.

“You gave me your cheek,” he grits out.

“Oh, that. Excuse me if I don’t want to kiss the man threatening the lives of my loved ones. In case it’s unclear, kisses are off the table, Maximo.” Along with everything else you thought you’d get from this sham marriage.

His face hardens to granite, but without a word, he yanks out his phone and starts typing furiously, ignoring me entirely. Fine. I cross my arms, leaning against the window, watching the city blur as we speed away from the courthouse.

We drive back the way we came, and by the time the SUV descends into the underground garage of some luxury hotel skyscraper, my nerves are shot. Maximo leads me straight to the bank of elevators tucked to one side, pulling out a card from his jacket pocket to tap against the screen. The doors slide open silently, and he hits the button for the penthouse. I blow out a breath of relief. At least I won’t have to play happy bride with a bunch of strangers.

As we ascend, I catch my reflection in the mirrored wall of the elevator and cringe at my disheveled appearance. I’ve never given much thought to what my marriage might be like, but I certainly wouldn’t have imagined getting married in jeans and a plain top, with curls falling messily from my ponytail. I brush some hair off my face, only for the huge rock on my ring to jab me in the cheek, surprising me. Ugh, that will take some getting used to.

The elevator finally dings open into an elegant foyer, and Maximo storms out like he’s in a rush.

“Maximo!” I call after him, and he stops, glancing back at me with a questioning brow. “I want my purse back. My phone is inside, and I need to call my father.” I realized it was missing the moment I woke up, and I’m guessing he made sure it stayed that way—another piece of control stripped away by this man who thinks he owns me.

“No,” he says and continues into the penthouse, leaving me gaping in disbelief.

“What do you mean no?” I ask incredulously, jogging to catch up. “My family is going to be worried sick! I need to let them know I’m alright.” And I need to confirm that they are alright too. That they’re still alive. That this sacrifice actually means something.

“Last I checked, ‘no’ has only one meaning. You won’t be calling home, Elira.” He starts to walk away again, but this time I grab his arm before I can think better of it. His gaze drops to the monstrous rock on my finger, and a possessive glint appears in his eyes as he meets my stare.

“Don’t look at me like that. The fact that we’re married doesn’t change anything. Your father remains a worm trying to burrow into my territory. Finding out I married his daughter will only give him undue confidence. I want him to stew in his worry for a few more weeks. If it distracts him from his pathetic attempts to continue his criminal activities in my city, even better.”

My grip goes slack with shock. I knew Atë’s work isn’t legal and that I’m probably the only one who thinks of him as nice because I’m his daughter. But it’s still a slap in the face to hear Maximo say it that way and to see the hate he has for him.

But what about him? He’s no better than Atë. “So, what? You kidnapped and married me, all to settle some score with my dad?”

He snaps his fingers in my face like I’m a child who finally understood a simple lesson. “Bingo.”

That’s it. My fists clench at my sides as fury washes over me, effectively piercing through my numbness. This absolute bastard. This arrogant, motherfucking piece of—I’m not much of a curser, but suddenly, a torrent of Albanian curse words pour from my mouth, the kind of words I’ve only ever heard my brother’s or my atë’s men mutter over the years. And now here I am, hurling them at him, each one feeling like a tiny slice of satisfaction. I swear I want to tear into him, make him bleed, make him hurt like I’m hurting, fucking claw his handsome face out until it matches his ugly soul. I’m half-shocked at the violent thoughts and urges running through my head, which only escalates when he starts slowly clapping, his lips curling up at the corners, winking his stupid dimples at me.

“Impressive, Elira.”

I roll my eyes and stomp away into the first bedroom I see. I need to get away from him before I do something reckless like try to throttle him—which would only make things worse for my family.

Slamming the door behind me, I start pacing as the anger boils into adrenaline, making my whole body vibrate with rage. I have to find a way to burn it off somehow—that doesn’t actually involve my bare hands on my new ‘husband’s’ neck, no matter how tempting that sounds. Not that I could take him in a fight anyway. He probably has training I can’t even imagine. The thought just adds to my frustration.

Then the door opens behind me, and I swirl around to see Maximo strolling in, calm as you please. Of course. Privacy means nothing to him. He shrugs off his suit jacket, letting it drop to the floor as he starts undoing his shirt buttons.

“What the hell are you doing?” I demand, refusing to believe the answer my brain supplied for me. He can’t possibly expect⁠—

“Getting ready to consummate this marriage. Take off your clothes, Elira, unless you’d rather I do it for you.”

“You must have a death wish. Do you know how furious I am, right now? Touch me and I’ll bite your head off!” I threaten, meaning it with every fiber of my being.

But he doesn’t even pause; those arrogant fingers just keep going, popping each button until his shirt joins the jacket on the floor, exposing a broad expanse of tanned, muscular chest.

My eyes immediately go to the beautiful arrays of color on his left arm, climbing up from his wrist to his shoulder blade. My breath hitches, and I wrench my gaze away, fuming at myself.

Fuck him for being so infuriatingly attractive. I start scanning the room for anything I could use as a weapon—lamp, heavy book, chair?—until his next words knock the wind right out of my anger.

“You do realize that unless we consummate this marriage, it can easily be contested as illegal, right? I’m not taking the risk.” He says it casually, as if he’s explaining a minor technicality in a contract. “And if you need a reminder, it’s all spelled out in the prenup you signed.” He unbuckles his wristwatch and places it gently on top of his discarded clothes.

“No way. It’s not.” But uncertainty weakens my protest. I didn’t exactly comb through the fine print before signing the damned thing. At the time, all I cared about was doing whatever would keep my family safe.

Maximo leaves the room without a word, and for a second, I dare hope. I blow out a tentative breath of relief. Is he actually giving up?

But no, not a chance. He’s back just as fast, waving a paper up—the prenup. Unbelievable. I snatch it out of his hand, scanning frantically until I find it. My heart stops, then starts again double-time. Something heavy and molten pools low in my belly—a mix of rage and… something else. Something that sends heat between my thighs and self-loathing through my soul.

It’s just biology, I snap to myself. Pure animal response to an attractive male. Nothing more.

The clause hides in smaller font, nearly invisible unless you search for it.

The marriage is to be consummated to make the union binding. And afterwards, the bride shall grant her groom access to her body if he so wishes, or he would be well within his rights to annul the marriage.

So that’s it? He’ll annul the marriage if I don’t grant him access to my body? I’m sooo scared. “Fine. Bring the annulment papers, then. Do you think I care? Let’s end this circus right now.”

“You do know the only thing saving your precious father and brother from my bullet is…” He pauses to wave a hand between us. “…this marriage.”

Of course.

More threats. His favorite weapon. Fury surges anew, and I tighten my grip on the prenup until it crumples in my fist.

“That’s fine. You can tear it. It’s not the original copy.” His tone is almost kind, and it makes me want to scream. I shoot him a glare that could burn through steel as I hurl the crumpled paper at him.

“You think you’re so smart, don’t you?” I spit, each word brimming with venom. “Well, congrats, Maximo. You’ve got me well and truly trapped. Consummate away.” I yank my top over my head and fling that at him too, loving that it smacks him right in his stupid face.

My jeans follow, tugging them off and kicking them aside until I’m in just my underwear. My pulse is roaring in my ears, and the furious adrenaline falters, just a bit, as cool air grazes my skin. But I grit my teeth and reach behind to unclasp my bra, letting it fall, then slip out of my panties, leaving nothing between me and his gaze.

A glimmer of discomfort zips down my spine as his eyes roam over me, assessing, drinking me in. And I hate the heat creeping up my cheeks, hate the way my heart races. I can’t believe this is happening. Here I am, naked before a man for the first time, and it’s him—the man who’s made sure I have no way out.