The Devil I Crave (Devil's Knights 2)

Pops grabbed my shoulder. “Alex, there’s something else we’d like to discuss with you.” I pressed my lips together, and he continued, “There’s a lot of hostility between you and Luca.”

I snorted with laughter. “That’s an understatement.”

“I spoke with Arlo about a new arrangement, one that will help you rethink the marriage.”

“Nothing will change my mind about Luca.”

At that, Luca grunted, drawing my attention to his smug face. He glowered at me, his jaw so hard it could cut through steel.

“What if you had a choice?” Pops asked, diverting my attention.

My eyes snapped to him.

“A choice between Luca and Marcello,” he confirmed. “It’s clear you have feelings for both of them.”

I didn’t bother to correct him.

“You have until the end of the month to choose,” he said, unaffected.

My gaze shifted between Marcello and Luca. While Marcello looked like he’d won the fucking lottery, Luca was seething with anger.

“What if I can’t choose?”

All business, my grandfather remained expressionless. “Then I will choose for you.”

“I already know who you would pick.”

“Fuck this,” Luca snapped, his nostrils flared. “You promised Alex to me a long time ago, Wellington.”

My grandfather glowered at him. “Boy, you better learn to respect your elders.”

“No,” Luca growled. “Alex won’t choose Marcello over me.”

Pops grinned, but it was sinister. “Then you have nothing to worry about.”

My eyes met Luca’s, and he shook his head. “Why are you doing this to me, Drea?”

“You did this to yourself.”

“Bitch,” he yelled, his hand balled into a fist.

Anger bubbled up inside my chest. “Luca, if you don’t shut your mouth, I will choose right now. And you won’t like my decision.”

He clenched his teeth.

“Why do you think you deserve me?” I asked Luca.

“Because you’re mine.”

My laughter filled the quiet room. “No, I’m not.”

He rolled his eyes and drank a full glass of scotch, slamming it down on the table with a thud. “You’re in denial.”

“You don’t love me, Luca.”

“We don’t marry for love.”

He looked away as he filled his glass with more scotch.

“It’s sad,” I said. “You mistake the tension between us as a connection. My doctors call it a trauma bond. It’s when two people bond because of ongoing cycles of abuse.”

He threw his arm above his head, his face twisted in anger. “I never fucking touched you!”

Disgusted by his outburst, I shook my head. “Emotional abuse is worse than physical abuse.”

He snickered. “If you say so, Drea.”

My doctors had often mentioned trauma bonding during our sessions about Luca. They thought it was why I could never walk away from him. Luca was never physically abusive and would never hurt me. But we had a toxic push-pull relationship, a constant punishment and reward system that always brought us back together.

Like an idiot, I would accept his apology. And the cycle continued. I used to think the universe wanted us to be together. That maybe he was right about fate. He had me convinced it was our destiny to be together, but perhaps the glue binding us was nothing more than our past traumas.

I had formed a connection with him the day he let me touch his scars. And he developed a level of intimacy with me that he hadn’t shown to another person. We were both scarred, battered, and mentally fucked beyond repair. But my time with Marcello changed the game. He made me see love didn’t have to hurt. That I deserved love and happiness and could find it with someone else.

Tapping my shaky fingers on my thigh, I glanced over at Luca. “Do you remember when you had someone destroy my paintings for the showcase at RISD? Because I will never forget that.”

He squeezed the glass in his hand so hard I thought it would break. “I didn’t touch your paintings.”

“You were mad at me for talking to a guy from school. A few days later, someone broke into my apartment and destroyed my work.”

He slammed the glass on the table, and liquid spilled onto the wood. “And a few years later, you sold out your first exhibition.”

I shook my head. “Because you had to interfere. You couldn’t let me do anything on my own. Not even my art career.”

Pops clutched my wrist. “Maybe we should save this for later, princess.”

Ignoring him, I turned my gaze on Luca. “How about our first kiss? You pulled my hair so hard you almost ripped it from my scalp.”

“You’re overreacting,” he countered with the roll of his eyes. “That was nothing compared to what I do to you now.”

Pops sighed, his hard stare fixed on Luca. He looked like he wanted to chop him into pieces. My grandfather had never hidden his dislike for Luca. If he had chosen for me, he would have picked Marcello.

I blew out a deep breath and groaned. “Do you see where I’m going with this, Luca?”

“No.”

“You need to change.”