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

I step back from the fridge and close it, nearly jumping out of my skin when I see her—a young woman, who looks about my age, leaning casually against its side like she belongs here. Except I’m pretty sure she doesn’t. She’s shorter than me, her brown hair pulled back away from her face, highlighting her soft features. A button nose. Small pink lips. Pale brown eyes that glint with something unreadable.

She’s stunning. And I hate that it’s the first thing I notice.

My brows knit as I glance past her, scanning the kitchen and past the glass door to the living room, and even the shadows beyond, hoping Marco will storm in any second.

But he doesn’t.

The fire alarm went off a few minutes earlier, and he had to run outside to guard the door while the men rushed downstairs to stop the fire from spreading. So I’m alone.

My pulse ticks faster. “Who are you? How did you get in?”

Her lips tilt up in a smirk, and she pushes away from the fridge. “So, Maximo really got himself a little Albanian wife. Interesting.” The words drip with a bitter undertone that makes my skin prickle.

My frown deepens as I study her, not sure what to say to that. There’s something off here.

I open my mouth to respond, maybe demand answers, but before I can string two words together, she moves.

Fast.

One second, she’s near the fridge, and the next, she’s right in front of me. My heart jolts as a healthy dose of fear settles in my spine.

No way she’s an ordinary woman. That movement was smooth. Too smooth.

Instinct kicks in. I raise my fists, ready to take her in a fight, but she’s faster. Her hand snatches my wrist, twisting it hard, and suddenly I’m spun around, her boobs pressed firmly to my back. “Mar—” I try to shout, but the sound barely escapes before something covers my nose—a pink bandana, sickly sweet and cloying.

Shit, not again, is all I can think as a wave of dizziness and fatigue crashes over me. My eyes roll back, vision fading as my limbs turn to jelly. Helpless, I sink into the darkness.

The soft vibration of an engine and the gentle sway of motion startle me awake. My head feels stuffed with cotton as I blink groggily at the back of the leather seat in front of me. Disoriented, I glance around.

I’m in a car. My gaze flicks to the window, squinting at the bright lights of the city whizzing past me.

A moving car.

What the heck?

The last thing I remember, I had just put the salad into the fridge and—I jerk upright as the rest of the memories rush through me. The sudden movement sends the car spinning in a dizzying haze, and a fierce headache erupts at the back of my skull.

“Ugh.” Groaning miserably, I clutch my head, squeezing my eyes shut as I try to breathe through my nose and ground myself. Gradually, after what feels like an eternity, the spinning subsides, and the insistent throb at the back of my skull begins to ease.

When I finally dare to open my eyes, I lock onto the driver’s seat. It’s her. The woman from my kitchen is driving the car. The passenger seat is empty.

So, I’m alone in the car with her.

I glance out the window, straining to recognize the streets, but nothing looks familiar. Cold fear settles at the base of my spine. How long was I out? Where are we? Are we even still in Queens?

My voice cracks when I finally find it. “Who–who are you? Why did you⁠—”

“Hi, Elira. I’m an old friend of Maximo’s. Though he wasn’t exactly thrilled to see me earlier.” She shrugs carelessly, sparing me a brief glance through the rearview mirror. “I wish we could have met under better circumstances, but I doubted you’d follow me willingly.”

An old friend of Maximo’s? What does that even mean? “Follow you willingly? Follow you where? What do you want with me? Ransom money? Some⁠—”

I’m cut short by her light laughter, and she stares at me through the rearview mirror again, brown eyes twinkling with mirth. “Ransom?” she echoes, like I’ve told a bad joke. “Please. I don’t need yours or Maximo’s blood money, Elira.” Her laughter fades, and her expression shifts, softening into something almost… mournful.

“What I want,” she says, voice quieter now, “is for your husband to stop.” Her fingers tighten on the steering wheel, knuckles whitening. “To go back a couple of years and get my old friends back. I want them out of the clutches of that fucker and–”

Her breath catches on the last words, and her eyes darken with a rage so fierce it has me worried what she’ll do if that anger is directed towards me. But then she exhales, shaking her head as if to banish the storm inside her. “What I want doesn’t matter. It’s impossible to get it anyway. But I will make them see the error of their ways.”

Slow realization pierces my fog of confusion as I stare at the woman, and it all clicks into place. I know who she is—or at least, I know of her. “Where are you taking me, Emily?” If I hoped saying her name would rattle her, I’m in for some disappointment.

She simply gives me a cool, surveying glance through the rearview mirror, not even showing a flicker of surprise that I’ve figured out who she is. “I’m taking you somewhere you’ll be safe,” she answers. “I know all about how Maximo kidnapped you and threatened to kill your family if you didn’t marry him. I’m saving you from him.”

Somewhere I’ll be safe? Away from my husband? My stomach twists violently at her words. “But I don’t want to be saved from him,” I say softly. She doesn’t respond. Her silence, coupled with the unyielding determination on her face, squeezes my chest, making it hard to breathe.

She’s not going to listen to me.

Panic claws its way through me, my body going ice-cold as I glance outside again. We must have taken a turn somewhere, because we’re now driving through an old-looking area with cracked streets and little potholes that rattle the car, jostling me on my seat. Large, abandoned warehouses loom on either side of the road, their dark silhouettes casting an eerie shadow over the path ahead.

Shit. This is bad.

I can’t let her do this to me. I won’t be a victim again. Never. If she gets me to wherever it is she’s planning to take me, I know instinctively that it will be over. I’ll never be back in this city again. Never see my father or brother.

Never see my husband again.

The fear spreads through me, chilling me even further, and I shudder in horror. I want to remain with Maximo. It doesn’t matter how we started, we’ve gotten to a better place now, and I love him and—I gasp, making Emily glance back at me with a furrow between her brows.

I love my husband.

Somehow, I’ve gone and fallen in love with the asshole, even though I tried my hardest not to, holding back my kisses like that would save my heart from him.

“Where is this ‘safe’ place you’re taking me to?” I force the words out, trying to sound calm, even as my mind races through a dozen plans in a blur. I’m buying time, scrambling for anything to stop this. I refuse to be taken away from Maximo just when I’ve made the realization about my feelings for him.

No. I’m not some helpless girl, some damsel in distress. My brother made damn sure I wasn’t going to be anyone’s victim. It was bad enough that I let Maximo kidnap me, but back then, I was naïve, lost… vulnerable. No more. If there’s anything I’ve learned from that incident, it’s to never trust a stranger’s motive, especially when they claim to be trying to help me—or in this case, trying to save me.

I glance around the car, searching for something I can use to make my escape, but the interior is squeaky clean and empty. Not even a bottle of water or a pen or used wrapper. But there has to be a way. There has to.

“You’re going to Budapest,” she answers, grabbing my full attention.

“Budapest?” I gape at her. That’s like millions of miles away.

She nods. “That’s the one place he won’t think to look for you. A couple of documents are waiting for you on the plane. A brand new passport with your new name. You’ll have to dye your hair—red is far too distinctive. Black or blonde will do. We’ll change everything about you until even your father won’t be able to recognize you. Tonight, Elira Përmeti—or rather, Elira Leonotti—will die.”

I break out in a cold sweat, my heart roaring in my ears as I picture what she’s saying. Erasing my identity? Changing everything that makes me me? “What—what if I don’t want that?” I ask, not able to raise my voice past a shaky whisper under the weight of my fear.

Emily shakes her head, and for the first time, there’s a flicker of something like regret in her eyes. But her voice remains firm. “I’m afraid that’s not an option.”

The car takes another turn, and suddenly, we’re driving through a rusty gate into a wide sandy field where a small plane waits at the far end. And reality sets in. Unless I do something to change my fate, this is happening.

“What’s the difference between what you are planning to do and what Maximo did to me?” The supposed kidnapping that she’s attempting to rescue me from. Can she not see how horrible and demonic her plan is?

She glances at me as she slows the car down and turns off the engine, taking the key from the ignition. “I don’t pretend to know Maximo’s motive, but I’m saving you from him… and from yourself. This is for your own good.”

My own good? What the hell is she talking about? My whole world is spinning, and she’s acting like she’s the hero here.

She rolls her neck, then—out of nowhere—pulls a gun and waves it at me. I immediately freeze as she speaks. “Now, I don’t want to have to hurt you, Elira. So you must cooperate. Hold on, sit tight, and I’ll be back before you know it.”

She opens the door and slips out, slamming it shut behind her. Then her eyes fix on mine through the window, the gleam of the gun still in her hand as she lifts her key fob and locks the car with a soft click, trapping me inside.