A Forced Contract Marriage with the Devil novel Chapter 24

Chapter 24

NIKOLAI’S POV

We didn’t speak for the rest of the car journey to Alessandro’s family, I stared out the window as cars passed me by as my mind went completely blank.

I was fully not interested.

And yet, despite my lack of interest, my body was tense. The closer we got to his family’s estate, the heavier the air in the car seemed to grow.

Alessandro, of course, remained unfazed. He sat beside me, composed, elegant, like he had already mapped out the entire evening in his head. Like nothing about this dinner could possibly go wrong–as long as I didn’t mess it up.

I clenched my jaw, my fingers curling into the fabric of my pants.

The car slowed as we approached a massive wrought–iron gate, which swung open almost immediately, revealing a long driveway lined with perfectly manicured hedges and glowing lanterns.

Great. Even the entrance screamed power.

I felt Alessandro’s eyes flick toward me briefly, as if assessing my reaction, but I didn’t give him the satisfaction. Instead, I kept my gaze locked on the window, refusing to acknowledge the grandeur surrounding us.

The car came to a smooth stop in front of a towering mansion, no, a palace. Warm light spilled from the tall windows, and the sound of laughter and chatter drifted from inside.

Alessandro stepped out first, straightening his suit effortlessly before turning back toward me. “Come on,” he said coldly, not even sparing me a second glance as he walked toward the grand entrance.

I hesitated for a brief second before forcing myself to follow. I followed next to him up the long stone driveway, leading up to a large, beautiful house, that looked like it was straight out of a fairy tale, with beautiful flowers surrounding the house.

The scent of fresh roses mixed with the crisp evening air, but it did nothing to ease the tight knot in my stomach. This wasn’t a fairy tale–it was a well–decorated cage, and I was being paraded straight into it.

As we reached the entrance, the grand double doors swung open before Alessandro even had to knock. A butler stood at attention, giving a respectful nod before stepping aside.

Inside, the house was even more extravagant. Chandeliers dripped with crystal, casting warm, golden light over marble floors. Expensive paintings lined the walls, and the air smelled of wine, wealth, and something I couldn’t something cold and unwelcoming.

A group of well–dressed people stood in the lavish foyer, their conversations halting as we stepped inside.

Le place,

I immediately recognized Alessandro’s parents. His father, tall and severe, watched us with a scrutinizing gaze. I knew him as an old mafia. He radiated power and authority. He was a man carved from stone, his presence demanding attention without the need for words. His sharply tailored black suit fit him like a second skin, exuding quiet wealth and dominance. A silver pocket watch gleamed against the dark fabric, a subtle display of old money and control.

Despite his age, there was nothing soft about him. His posture was rigid, his hands resting lightly in his pockets, a

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Chapter 24

practiced stance that spoke of both confidence and danger. A faint scar ran just below his left cheekbone, a silent reminder that he wasn’t just a businessman–he was a man who had built his empire with blood and discipline.

Standing beside him, Eleanora De Luca

s just as intimidating in her own way. Where her husband’s presence was cold and commanding, hers was sharp and calculated. Dressed in a sleek dark green gown that hugged her frame with effortless grace, she looked every bit the queen of this empire. Her raven–black hair, streaked with the faintest touch of silver, was styled in an elegant updo, revealing a pair of emerald earrings that matched the predatory gleam in her eyes.

She barely spared me a glance before offering Alessandro a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Nikolai,” his father finally said, his tone measured but indifferent. “I see you’ve decided to join us.”

Decided? Like I had a choice.

I forced a polite nod, my throat tight. “It seems so.”

”

Alessandro’s grip on my wrist tightened subtly, a warning.

His mother, still avoiding my gaze, turned to her son. “You’re late,” she said, smoothing the fabric of his suit like he was a child who needed fixing. “Everyone’s waiting in the dining room.”

Without another word, she turned and walked away, expecting us to follow.

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