Chapter 3 How to Tempt the Devil.

Chapter 3

Fina's POV

He slid his gloved hand from my chest up to my throat, his long fingers wrapping around my neck—not choking me, but possessing me. He tilted my head back until I was forced to stare up into his cruel yet breathtaking face.

“You told me in the church that you aren't mine, Seraphina,” he murmured, his thumb rubbing roughly over my bottom lip, pressing it down until my mouth parted for him. “Look down there.”

I shook my head, tears mixing with the rain, but his grip tightened slightly, forcing my gaze toward the deadly drop behind me.

“I could let go right now,” Lorenzo whispered against my ear, his hot breath contrasting brutally with the freezing rain. “I could let the wind take you. I could watch you break on those stones, and no one in this city would dare ask me why. And I would enjoy it because that is who I am.”

A sob ripped from my lungs. “I…I know what you are!”

“No, you don't,” he growled, sliding his free hand slowly up the side of my wet dress.

The leather of his glove was rough against my bare thigh as he gathered the wet lace upward, exposing my skin to the freezing storm. I gasped, but his hand didn't stop until it reached the sensitive arch of my hip, squeezing the soft flesh until it burned.

“You know the stories they tell about the Devil,” Lorenzo rasped, dipping his head into the crook of my neck, inhaling my scent—rain, strawberry, and raw fear. He pressed a slow, hot kiss right over my frantic pulse point. And I almost slipped an inch over the balustrade when I threw my head backward. “You think I'm going to lock you in a tower and treat you like a prize. But I am a monster, principessa. I take what I want, when I want it, and I break what resists me.”

He dragged his teeth lightly over the skin of my collarbone, a sharp bite that made my hips arch instinctively toward him—a betrayal of my own body that made my cheeks burn with shame.

“Say you understand,” he commanded, his thumb sinking deeper into my hip while his silver eyes burned into mine. “Say you know who owns you.”

I stared at his mouth, at the power radiating from every inch of his towering frame, and I felt the cold realization wash over me.

If I wanted to survive this man... if I wanted to save the innocent child inside me... I couldn't just survive Lorenzo Genovese. I had to seduce him. I had to make this ruthless, emotionless beast sleep with me, touch me, and claim me in his bed so that when my stomach began to swell, he would believe the child was his.

I had to trap the Devil in his own web.

I swallowed my fear, my fingers tightening on his shoulders, pulling his chest closer to mine until there was no air left between us.

“I know who you are, Lorenzo,” I breathed, staring directly into his silver eyes, letting a flash of defiant heat enter my voice. “Now put me down, and prove you're man enough to keep me.”

A slow smirk broke across Lorenzo’s face. The sheer audacity of my response didn't anger him—it ignited him.

Without a word, he hooked his arm beneath my knees and ripped me off the ledge, pulling me flush against his hard chest. I gasped, clinging to him as he turned and kicked open the heavy double glass doors leading into the top-floor master suite.

He threw me down onto the center of a massive, black-draped king bed before I even got the chance to admire the grand room. The soaked silk of my wedding dress spread out like a ruined flower around me.

Lorenzo didn't climb over me. He stood at the foot of the bed, towering over me like a dark god, his hands moving to his dark tie, loosening it.

“Marianna!” he called out, his voice echoing through the suite.

An older woman dressed in a sharp, conservative housekeeper’s uniform stepped out from the adjoining dressing room, keeping her eyes respectfully glued to the floor.

“Yes, Don Genovese?”

Lorenzo ripped his tie off, tossing it casually onto a chair. His silver eyes never left my body—watching the way my wet dress clung to my chest, tracing the heavy rise and fall of my breathing.

“Strip her,” Lorenzo ordered. “Burn that filthy dress. Scrub her skin until Mario’s blood is gone, and put her in something soft and silky.”

“Right away, sir,” Marianna murmured.

Lorenzo took a step backward toward the door, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his black shirt, exposing the dark hair and brutal tattoos etched across his collarbone. He looked at me one last time—his gaze so intense it felt physical.

“I have business in the city to clean up your father’s mess,” Lorenzo announced,his voice dropping an octave. He turned to Marianna. “Have my bride spotless, scented, and naked in my bed by midnight.”

He paused at the threshold, a knowing smile touching his lips.

“When I get back, Seraphina... we are going to see just how stubborn you really are.”

The heavy door clicked shut behind him, leaving me shivering on the wet mattress, his command echoing in the silence of the room.

Midnight.

I pressed my hand against my belly, feeling the silent heartbeat inside me. I had less than four hours to figure out how to survive the night with a monster—and how to make him burn for me.