Chapter 2: The Devil

Diana POV

My entire body went cold. Fear curled around my spine as my father’s sharp gaze locked onto me.

"Diana, my dear daughter… what did you just say?"

The words hung between us like a blade, waiting to fall.

I swallowed, my pulse thundering in my ears. Every instinct screamed at me to take it back, to smooth over the moment before my father’s temper shattered completely. But I couldn’t.

So I lifted my chin and repeated, "Enzo Rossi."

The room seemed to shrink. The music, the laughter, the clinking of glasses—it all faded into a suffocating silence.

Maria moved instantly, stepping in between us, her voice desperate yet steady. "She’s out of her mind today, my Don. I know another Hermès Birkin would make her very happy."

My father’s fingers curled, blood still slipping down from his palm. But then, to my shock, he let out a low chuckle.

"Amore Mio," he said, his voice deceptively soft. "It’s your birthday, so I will pretend I didn’t hear you."

He reached for my arm, his grip firm but not painful. Yet I knew this was not a request—it was an order.

"Come, angel," he murmured. "I want you to meet Carlos Lombardi."

I forced my feet to move, my stomach tightening as he led me through the crowd. My thoughts raced. He was brushing it off. Why? My father never ignored things that angered him. Did he have something planned?

My skin prickled with unease as we stopped at an exclusive corner of the room where a man sat with a glass of whiskey in hand.

Carlos Lombardi.

I knew of him. Everyone did. He had recently taken over all the affairs of the Lombardi family—the new Don. Ruthless. Strategic. And dangerous.

My father gestured toward me.

"Miss Diana, the jewel of the D’Angelo family," Carlos said smoothly, his deep voice carrying a quiet arrogance. "Your beauty outshines this city."

I said nothing.

My father placed a hand on my lower back, guiding me closer. "This is Carlos, Diana."

Carlos rose, his tailored suit fitting him like a second skin. His piercing eyes studied me, taking in every detail. Then, without breaking eye contact, he reached for my hand.

I hesitated.

But my father’s fingers tensed against my back. A silent warning.

So I lifted my hand.

Carlos took it and brought it to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss against my skin.

I lowered my head slightly in greeting. "It’s a pleasure, Mr. Lombardi."

He smirked. "Call me Carlos."

Then, offering his hand, he asked smoothly, "May I dance with you?"

Before I could fully process it, Carlos stood and took my hand. His grip was firm—too firm.

And then, in a sudden movement, he pulled me into his chest, his body pressing against mine. A gasp escaped me as his warmth engulfed me, his scent of whiskey and expensive cologne filling my senses.

His mouth was dangerously close to my ear. His voice, a low whisper, sent a chill down my spine.

"Do you know, Diana… Andreas hides you like some sort of secret, like you’re something holy."

His grip tightened slightly as he twirled me, his movements sharp and practiced.

"But I bet…" he continued, his tone dark and teasing, "underneath that angel costume of yours, you’re a dirty little girl."

Heat rushed to my face, but it wasn’t embarrassment, it was rage.

Before I could respond, he spun me again, faster this time, and then yanked me back against him. My breath hitched as his lips nearly brushed my ear.

"I can’t wait to have you in my bed, begging me to fuck you."

My stomach twisted with disgust, my pulse hammering in my ears.

And then, just as suddenly as he had seized me, he let me go.

I stumbled slightly, turning…

And my breath caught.

There, standing before me, was another man.

"Enzo."

His name slipped from my lips before I could stop it.

He stood before me, dressed in all black, a mask concealing most of his face. But I would recognize him anywhere. The way he stood, the way his presence demanded attention—it was him.

Without a word, he took my hand and pulled me into a dance. My body moved on instinct, my heart hammering as his arms wrapped around me.

"I told you I wouldn’t miss this," he murmured, his voice rich, familiar, intoxicating. "Happy birthday, princess."

I felt a rush of emotions all at once—relief, disbelief, excitement. My fingers tightened slightly on his shoulder.

"How did you get in—"

He cut me off. "Dance with me."

And so I did.

He spun me, his touch firm yet careful, leading me through the movements effortlessly. It was as if nothing had changed between us.

"How long has it been?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Four years, seven months, three weeks." His grip tightened slightly as his eyes met mine through the mask. "I missed you."

My breath caught.

"I missed you too."

"I have been waiting for this since the moment I left. Every waking moment."

Before I could respond, Enzo suddenly lifted me into his arms. A startled gasp left my lips, but he held me securely, his movements swift as he carried me toward the exit.

The night air was cool against my skin as Enzo led me to the other side of the mansion. The music from inside was muffled now, the only sound between us was my own unsteady breathing.

"I told you, I wouldn’t miss your birthday." His voice was calm, but there was something in his tone—something dark, something unreadable.

Before I could press further…

Bang!

A gunshot.

I froze.

Another shot rang out, followed by a scream. My heart leaped to my throat.

"Enzo—did you hear that?" My voice was shaky, my body tensed.

He exhaled slowly. "Yeah. But don’t go inside. Stay here with me."

Panic set in. I turned to him, my mind racing.

"Wait... Enzo, how did you even get into the party? You can’t just pass through security with a mask." My breath came faster. "Don’t tell me you did this. Don’t tell me you came back to kill my family."

He didn’t answer.

That silence told me everything.

"Diana…"

But I didn’t stay to listen.

I turned and ran.

I ran as fast as I could, my heels clicking against the marble floor as I pushed through the doors and back into the ballroom.

And then…

I stopped.

My entire world stopped.

Bodies. Everywhere.

Blood stained the golden floors, the scent of iron thick in the air. The music had long since died, replaced by eerie silence.

My father. The guests.

All lying motionless.

A strangled sob escaped me as my legs moved on their own, stumbling forward.

Then, a faint groan.

My eyes darted to the side, and I saw her.

Maria.

She was lying on the ground, blood pooling beneath her, her breaths shallow.

"Maria!" I fell to my knees beside her, my hands shaking as I reached for her.

Her eyes fluttered open slightly, her lips trembling. "My dear..." Her voice was barely a whisper.

"Maria, I-I’ll get help, just stay with me!"

She weakly shook her head.

"No, Diana. You need to run."

Tears blurred my vision. "No, no, I won’t leave you—"

Her fingers gripped mine with what little strength she had left.

"The devil is here."

A chill ran through me.

Maria’s breathing grew weaker as she whispered, "Please… run."