Devils bride a dark mafi.., p.1
Devil's Bride: A Dark Mafia Romance, page 1
DEVIL'S BRIDE
PIPER STONE
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Afterword
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About Piper Stone
Copyright © 2025 by Stormy Night Publications and Piper Stone
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Published by Stormy Night Publications and Design, LLC.
www.StormyNightPublications.com
Stone, Piper
Devil’s Bride
Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson
This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.
CHAPTER 1
Genevieve
I blamed Krispy Kreme donuts for every decision I’d made in the last three years.
Both good and bad.
If the company hadn’t put up a store, albeit a tiny one near my apartment that was blocks away from Columbia University, then I likely wouldn’t be sitting here in this plush chair.
If my bodyguard, a brute of a man who scared almost everyone because of the jagged scar that ran all the way from his jaw to just under his left eye, hadn’t indulged me all hours of the night by purchasing crullers and tall black coffees, then maybe I would have snagged that sweet condo on the upper East side.
And lost it based on decisions made after a sugar rush.
If my best girlfriend hadn’t unknowingly entered me into a contest whereby the winner received a dozen glazed donuts every week for a year, then I wouldn’t have aced my finals.
Or passed the bar in one attempt.
At this moment, I wasn’t certain whether to love or hate the sweet treats.
Because of a sugary high mixed with red wine, a dangerous combination, I’d accepted my father’s third attempt at luring me back home.
Not just for a visit.
Oh, no.
For a position within his company.
He’d even baited a lure with promises of a huge salary, tremendous benefits, an apartment in the city, and perks to die for.
The last one might be literal given my father’s profession.
Although his pledge hadn’t included my beloved donuts.
I’d likely be the first in line when a brand-new store in Madrid opened later in the year.
The gangly girl with sheer determination and crazy defiance who’d left Barcelona for the bright lights of the big city of New York wasn’t the somewhat sophisticated woman who’d returned.
Maybe sophisticated was pushing it. I’d flown home in torn jeans, flip-flops, and sporting a New York Knicks sweatshirt.
My father had been horrified.
After a whirlwind decision, here I sat in front of floor-to-ceiling glass peering at the strangest artwork I’d ever seen in my life, wishing I was back in my apartment watching Miami Vice reruns with a bowl full of buttery popcorn. Those were the good ole days.
There was a beautiful teak desk with a matching credenza. Two leather chairs in front with a stunning display of artwork off to the side in the hues I preferred. Reds and purples with black as the background. Bold. Daring.
Dangerous.
There were sweeping views of Barcelona from windows aligning two walls, a fully stocked bar and refrigerator offering several libations if I deemed my guests’ visits worthy. I had a car and a strangely attractive but scary new driver, my former bodyguard returned to his old status as the family commander. I knew what that meant and Emiliano should finally be happy he was able to slice and dice just like he used to.
I could envision the trail of blood he’d leave throughout the city.
Groaning, I leaned back in my seat, folding my arms behind my head, keeping the practiced smile on my face. I wanted to be happy. I really did.
It was too bad my stomach hadn’t accepted the invitation to the party. Even my intestines were doing somersaults with Metallica music in the background.
My father had outdone himself in bribing me to return home. After some arm twisting, I’d agreed to take over as the family corporation’s attorney after the previous one had been fired for insubordination.
The truth was much uglier, the stupid man found embezzling funds from the family coffers. If I knew my father, that meant the man had been left to rot on the front lawn of his mistress’ classic estate, bleeding all over her velvety yellow begonias.
My father was a powerful man and not one who should ever be crossed. Unless you had a death wish.
So far, my day had been shit. The alarm had decided to welcome me by not sounding off. That had left me with five minutes to take a shower and even less time to dress. I should have gone back to bed when I’d dumped a full cup of coffee on my white blouse.
At least the burn marks had been kept to a minimum.
I’d also made the mistake of leaving my clothes in my suitcases and the suit I’d planned on wearing looked as if I’d been involved in cage fighting. I had no idea how I’d managed to rip the jacket when jerking it from the container, but my eyes had still been lost in a fog.
However, somehow I’d raced out the door with my heels in my hand, looking somewhat like a corporate mogul. If there was one thing my father had never tolerated, it was being late. I’d seen his temper when that happened.
While I’d been the starry-eyed girl who’d dreamt of being an attorney as long as I could remember and had been determined to shove the bad guys in the slammer, the job I’d accepted was entirely different. Now I’d be juggling what few contracts my father had in place since his clients were less than scrutable and keeping the thugs he’d employed out of the very slammer I’d once dreamed of filling.
Oh, the irony was lost in an Alanis Morrissette song.
At least I’d gotten here on time thanks to the bodyguard’s lead foot. I guess I was still able to look at the bright side of things.
After that, the day had been a crapshoot. The paperwork was in shambles, not a single signed contract to be found.
There was no alphabetization.
There was no copy paper.
The printer was out of ink if it even worked.
There was no music to drown out the laughter from outside my door.
But at least there was a fully stocked bar and at this point, the bottle of whiskey I’d been eyeing for a couple of hours was looking better and better.
I’d done my best to go through the few files on the computer, becoming grouchier the more time I’d spent. There were employees sitting right outside the door, none of whom appeared busy. I’d gotten up more than once to check I hadn’t been hallucinating. I had no idea what they were working on.
All I’d witnessed was them walking back and forth to the breakroom where there were jugs of juice, vats of coffee, and very sad examples of Spanish donuts. Yet they were all happy, busy bees. Their behavior made me wonder if they didn’t keep flasks of booze in their desks. Did they even work for their paycheck or was their appearance simply designed to keep the police off their tails?
What had happened to good old-fashioned bribery?
Great. I’d been sitting in the office for less than eight hours and I was already thinking like a gangster. Why, oh, why had I agreed to this?
The light knocks on the door wiped the smile from my face. Without waiting for me to answer, the door was swung open, my new assistant walking in with a group of papers in his hand.
“Ms. Morales. I have a few contracts for you to sign.”
Contracts? Really? Maybe the day was looking up. Why was it my father had a penc hant for hiring men with huge necks?
His English was flawless, a requirement of my father’s. I’d only been in the United States for five years. It wasn’t as if I’d forgotten my native language. However, I’d determined I’d do anything to appease my father upon my return.
“You do realize I’m not actually on the clock yet.” I’d been set to start the next day, but again, Papa had convinced me to pop into the office.
On time.
He looked at his watch, thoroughly confused as to use of the American slang and my attempt to make a bad joke. He’d even scowled when I’d walked in. “I…”
“It’s nothing. Just drop them on my desk.”
“Your father called. He asked me to remind you of your party.” Rodolpho stepped forward, his training evident when he scanned the perimeter of my new office. Did he honestly think assassins would risk being seen, their lives likely cut short by scaling a twenty-five-story building? Even if they did, the bulletproof glass would shatter their dreams of glory.
I groaned. The fabulous party my father had orchestrated, not requesting but commanding me to be there. He’d invited everyone who was anyone important in town, determined to announce my hiring in fashion. At least he’d accepted my suggestion of having the illustrious event at a restaurant instead of filling the house with hundreds of people sizing up the art and betting on how much money my father made.
“Yes, I know. I’ll get changed.”
I’d barely talked to the hitman covering as a qualified assistant. I’d only given his resume a brief onceover. His hire hadn’t been my decision to make. God, it would take me weeks to remember the Spanish slang. My father would say I’d become far too Americanized.
A hitman, the Spanish Cartel’s moniker for soldiers within my father’s army. They were tough, highly skilled, and willing to die for the cause.
He placed the folders on my desk, daring to look me directly in the eyes. If I were a man, that would be considered a sign of disrespect, even punishable by death in certain cases.
I decided to let it slide.
There was no sense in getting blood all over me before my big coming-out party. That wouldn’t add to the supposedly festive mood.
When he remained right where he was, I rose to my full height. Fortunately, I was tall enough that in my chunky-heeled boots, I was able to look him square in the eyes.
“Puedes irte ahora.”
You can go now.
I’d purposely decided to use Spanish so he’d realize from day one he couldn’t talk behind my back. While I also knew Catalan, the second language used by Barcelonans, I’d rarely spoken it over the last five years. Besides, almost everyone in Barcelona considered themselves bilingual.
His eyes opened appropriately wide. He nodded and headed out of the office. The slight slam of the door was a clear indication he wasn’t thrilled at being forced to wait hand and foot on the firstborn child and princess of the Morales Cartel.
To hell with him. As a teenager, I’d been forced to deal with the snide remarks and lewd comments. No longer.
I was an accomplished woman who’d returned on one condition.
I’d handle my father’s business affairs my way.
Period.
How I missed my beloved donuts.
CHAPTER 2
Genevieve
Put a smile on your face. Pretend you’re happy.
Sighing, I did my best, the pretense something I used to be successful at.
The restaurant was full of people, several waiting by the door for a table. As soon as I walked in with my entourage, there wasn’t a single head that hadn’t turned in our direction. While I was used to the notoriety, I instantly felt claustrophobic. It had been a long time since I’d been paraded like royalty. I sucked in my breath, held my head high, and walked through the crowd as I was led toward the back of the building.
Only a few steps later, I suddenly felt as if I was being watched. A slight hitch in my step forced my bodyguard, Emiliano, to bristle. I threw out my hand and turned my head, shifting my gaze from one side of the room to the other. When I finally found the source of the prickles now adorning my arms and neck as if priceless jewelry, I was shocked at the intense sensations flowing through me when our eyes met.
Even from across the room, I was able to capture the stranger’s dangerous beauty. He was breathtakingly handsome with a strong chiseled jaw. The man was emitting carnal vibes while remaining polished and very much in control.
Emiliano flanked my side, following my gaze.
“You were let out of your cage for the evening,” I teased as I felt the heat cresting along my jaw.
He issued a growl, something he’d started doing the first time I’d tried to leave him behind in New York. “I need to keep my eye on you. Obviously. This isn’t a social event.”
“Ha. I’m a big girl now and I thought that’s exactly what this party was all about.” I took another deep breath. Why did the dress need to be so low cut? Of course, Papa was using my return as both a business-making venture and a warning. He enjoyed putting the fear of God into people.
“Let’s not keep your father waiting.”
Sighing, I gave the attractive man a nod and he lifted his glass in return. It had been a very long time since I’d felt even a small amount of attraction for any man, no matter how gorgeous.
As I was guided away, an overabundance of heat coiled in my system.
“Why the pomp and circumstance, Emiliano? My father knows I hate it.” I was whining, but after a long flight the day before, a room full of people was the last thing I wanted to face.
Emiliano stepped in front of me, immediately motioning to the other man who’d ridden in one of the two vehicles flanking the SUV he and I had ridden in.
Another soldier. Another tough guy.
Antonio moved quickly, fearing pissing off his commander. Granted, at six foot five, Emiliano was a formidable man. He’d been my personal bodyguard as long as I could remember, forced to uproot his world and move with me to New York when I’d entered Columbia. In being forced to do so, he and I had become friends.
He’d been like a second father to me and as much as I’d hated being followed wherever I’d gone, the familiar company had kept me from being too lonely.
“Because your father loves you. This is an important day for you,” he barked out, immediately opening the door for the private room. He’d remain like a statue during the festivities, ready to defend our family from harm’s way.
I threw him one of my looks, the one that usually made him laugh.
Not tonight.
This was all about remaining on duty. “We will see what the future brings.” I took a deep breath and stepped inside, trying desperately to keep a smile on my face. There were at least fifty people inside, many of whom I hadn’t seen since I was maybe twelve years old. While they all greeted me with smiles and the lifting of whatever drink they had in their hand out of respect, they were all wondering the same thing.
What the hell is she doing here?
News flash. Me too.
“There you are, mi hermoso angel!”
“Papa,” I mewed as I rushed into his arms. To almost everyone else, Julio Morales was a monstrous man capable of performing heinous deeds. His reputation as a brutal leader had been something he’d carried with him since overtaking the throne when he was barely twenty-four years old. He’d built a massive empire, almost all of Spain and the bordering countries bowing down to him while others in his path of terror feared what he was capable of.
But to me, he was simply my father. My rock. The man who’d bounced me on his knees, always finding the time to listen to my tales of woe. I adored him with everything I had.
“How I’ve missed you.” He kissed my forehead.
“Papa. You saw me last night.” I laughed and so did several others standing in the beautifully decorated room. The restaurant had been one of my favorites growing up, always my destination of choice for birthdays whenever possible. I noticed my beautiful little sister being fawned over by some enchanting but dangerous older man. Bella was far too young to be blushing. I growled and Papa noticed, laughing when he followed my gaze.
“Can’t a father miss his daughter? And don’t worry. Luca knows better than to lay a finger on Bella. Come. We have champagne.”
“Uh-oh. Where’s Marco?” My younger brother had been none too happy I’d been asked to return home. At seventeen, he truly believed he was ready for leadership. In my eyes, the young man was still the kid playing video games until all hours of the night.
