Salvo didn't speak at first.
He just looked at me.
Eyes like shadows, unreadable and cold, watching me kneel on the marble floor like I was some curious thing he hadn't decided whether to keep or crush. The silence stretched—tense, suffocating. My knees ached against the cold, polished stone, but I didn't dare move. Not when he was looking at me like that.
Then—
"Stand up."
The command sliced through the thick air like a guillotine. I blinked, disoriented, still on my knees. Slowly, I obeyed. My legs trembled, my breath caught somewhere between my lungs and my throat, and my pulse was a chaotic drumbeat against my ribs.
Then—before I could even process—Salvo's hands seized my arms, yanking me forward. The world tilted, and I crashed onto his lap like I weighed nothing, like I was some doll to be positioned however he pleased.
My heart slammed into my throat.
"S-Sir…" I choked it out.
His eyes dragged slowly from my thighs to my lips, a deliberate, lingering gaze that made my skin crawl. He looked at me like a collector inspecting a rare artifact. Or worse—like a lion admiring how tender its meal looked before the first bite.
His fingers traced lazy circles against my thigh. A casual touch, almost absentminded. But it burned. Like the mark of a brand. I flinched. My hand shot out instinctively, fingers trembling as I tried to push his away.
"S-Sir… please."
He lifted his head, amusement curling at the edges of his mouth. Cold amusement, the kind that turned stomachs inside out.
"You're clearly scared of me, tesoro," he murmured, his voice like velvet over a dagger.
His hands slid lower, settling on my waist—firm, possessive, a quiet, suffocating claim. I didn't dare move.
I barely breathed.
"Then why did you say yes?"
I stared at him. For a moment, all I could hear was the dull roar of my heartbeat in my ears.
Why?
Because you're a goddamn monster. Because I didn't want to die screaming in a fire like some tragic footnote in someone else's story. Because between burning alive and kneeling before the devil, I figured the devil might—just might—let me breathe.
So yeah...that's the reason, you obsessive, possessive, fucking mafia villain.
But I didn't say that. God no. Who knew if this man strangled people just for the fun of it?
So I settled for a lie—something harmless, maybe even amusing enough to keep me breathing.
"I… I just wanted to live a debt-free life, sir."
A beat of silence followed.
Heavy. Calculating.
Like he was dissecting my words, searching for the tiniest crack in the lie. And then, he chuckled. Low. Dark. Like I'd just told him the funniest joke in the world. Maybe I had. Maybe survival was the only punchline he enjoyed.
"Good," he murmured. "You made the right decision, tesoro."
But then his voice shifted—sharper, colder. Like ice cracking beneath my feet.His gaze darkened, and with me still perched on his lap, the closeness made it feel all the more suffocating. And yet… he was still smiling. That same quiet, unnerving smile—like a wolf savoring the silence before the pounce.
"Since you chose to be mine," he said slowly, "there are a few things you should remember."
My throat dried.
"You must always obey."
The words hit like the slam of a cell door.
"Your life isn't yours alone anymore, my dear Alfio—not while you're under my roof."
A noose around my freedom. A weight in my lungs.
"There are only a few rules for you," he continued, his voice deceptively soft. "You don't go anywhere without my permission. You don't speak to anyone unless I allow it. And—" he leaned in, his breath brushing my ear like a ghost, delivering the final nail in the coffin,"—you can never say no to me."
My stomach twisted. The panic in my veins buzzed louder, but I swallowed it down.
"I—" I hesitated, lips parting, the word teetering on the edge of my tongue.
Then I saw the glint in his eyes. The warning. The silent promise of what defiance would cost.
"…Y-Yes sir," I said. Quieter. More broken.
A pause. Then, his lips curled, pleased. "Good boy."
God. I hated how my skin tingled when he said that. It wasn't attraction—it was fear. It was something primal, something sick. Like my body was already surrendering, even if my mind still screamed.
And then, like none of this had just happened, he turned his head toward the door and called, "Alba."
The door creaked open, and in stepped the same maid from earlier—Alba, the one who had led me to his office. Her gaze flickered to me, still perched on Salvo's lap, and though her expression remained perfectly composed, something unreadable flashed in her eyes.
Disapproval? Pity? Amusement? I couldn't tell.
She bowed slightly, her voice clipped and respectful. "Yes, master?"
"Prepare the room beside mine," Salvo ordered, his hand still resting on my waist like a goddamn claim tag. "Have Enzo bring Alfio's belongings from that garbage hole he calls a room. He's staying here from now on."
Excuse me—garbage hole? Rude. Accurate, but still rude.
Alba gave a small bow. "Okay, master."
She cast me a glance before turning to leave—brief, unreadable. A silent prayer for my soul? Or just a final look at the poor idiot who'd just sold himself to the devil? Hard to say.
Once the door clicked shut, silence fell between us like a shroud.
I sat there, stiff and tense on his lap, wondering if this was it—if this moment marked the beginning of the end.
The end of my freedom? Absolutely.
But maybe… just maybe, it was also the end of the path that led me to Riccardo. And wasn't that the point of all this?
***
The Room next to the Devil's Den:
Now I was here. In this room. This unnecessarily massive, designer-drenched room that screamed "mafia money laundering project" but also whispered "comfy."
Seriously—what was with rich villains and their obsession with throw pillows? There were six on the bed. Who needs six pillows?
Still, I wasn't about to complain. Not when the mattress felt like it was made of cloud and guilt. Not when I'd spent the past few weeks sleeping on a dust-crusted mattress so pathetic even the cockroaches back there looked at me like, "Damn, bro, you live like this?"
At least now I was out of that hellhouse.
Then, I collapsed onto the bed still in my very short shorts and floppy huge shirt—because of course Salvo didn't give me a chance to change. Mafia men are apparently allergic to boundaries.
I flopped back with a dramatic groan. "Ahhhhhhhh~~ so Damn comfy," I exhaled, star-fished and slightly unhinged.
I stared at the ceiling. Silence settled. Not heavy. Not painful. Just… there.
I didn't know what kind of silence this was.
It wasn't heavy, like before. Not the type that crept into your lungs and pressed down like grief. No, this silence felt... light. Empty.
I let out a slow sigh.
Was this… relief?
It didn't make sense. I should be panicking. I should be ugly-crying into these offensively soft sheets, shaking my fist at the narrative gods for forcing me into this Mafia-Cop revenge soap opera. But instead, I was breathing. For the first time since I became Alfio, I felt like I could.
Was it because my life had just upgraded from a roach-infested shoebox to a criminal luxury suite?
Or maybe… just maybe… because I'd actually managed to change something.
In the novel—Bound by Fate—Alfio had never said yes to Salvo. He refused him, ran from him, and hid behind Riccardo like a scared little puppy, hoping the hero would save him. And then he died. Tragically. Burned alive in a warehouse like a side character who'd overstayed his welcome.
But me?
I looked the devil dead in the eye—and said yes. And he didn't throw me in a dungeon or set me on fire. He let me stay. In this room. With this bed.
So yeah, maybe I was still just a pawn in some twisted love-revenge-mafia-cop telenovela. But at least I was a pawn with central heating and clean sheets.
Take that, fate.
And just like that, my eyes fluttered closed. I didn't even realize how—or when. But maybe… just maybe… This was the first time, as Alfio, that I was falling asleep peacefully.
Without fear. Without dread. Without the weight of tomorrow choking the breath from my lungs. Just the soft hum of silence… Where I know the devil will protect me and keep me safe.