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The Devil's Vow #1: Crimson Promises
Last Updated : 2025-02-13
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Isabella Moretti, the spirited daughter of an Italian mafia boss, has always lived a life of luxury but dreams of freedom. Damian Volkov, the cold and ruthless heir to the Russian Bratva, hides a tragic past behind his icy demeanor. When their families arrange a marriage to secure a fragile truce, both feel like pawns in a deadly game. At first, they clash—Isabella defying the union and Damian seeing it as a mere duty. But after an assassination attempt throws them into danger, they are forced to rely on each other. As their partnership grows, they uncover a conspiracy threatening both their families, with betrayal coming from within. Through danger, bloodshed, and secrets, Isabella and Damian begin to see each other’s true selves, and their reluctant alliance turns into genuine love. Together, they fight to protect their families and rise above the chaos, discovering that even in the darkest world, love can be their strongest weapon.
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The Devil's Vow #1: Crimson Promises Crimson 15
The sound of my heels clicking against the marble floors echoed through the long hallway. I hadn’t slept much since the attack, but it wasn’t fear that kept me awake. It was the realization that, for all my hatred of this arrangement, I was still here. And I was still alive—because of Damian. I found him in the study, standing near the window with his arms crossed, staring at the darkened skyline. His suit jacket was draped over a chair, the sleeves of his crisp white shirt rolled up to his elbows. He looked just as untouchable as ever. I hovered near the doorway, reluctant to step inside. He didn’t turn around, but I knew he had noticed me. He always did. "Couldn’t sleep?" he asked, his voice even. I exhaled slowly and leaned against the frame. "No." Neither of us spoke for a long moment. The silence was heavy, but not as suffocating as it used to be. I shifted on my feet before finally saying, "I know we don’t like each other." Damian let out a short, humorless laug
Last Updated : 2025-02-13The Devil's Vow #1: Crimson Promises Crimson 14
The world outside the window blurred as we drove through the winding countryside roads, but I barely noticed. My mind was stuck in the aftermath of the attack. I couldn’t stop replaying it in my head—the gunfire, the chaos, the way Damian had moved without hesitation to shield me. He hadn’t just been fighting for survival; he had been protecting me. That wasn’t the Damian I thought I knew. He was supposed to be cold, ruthless, and detached. A man who saw this marriage as nothing more than a business transaction. But the man I had seen in the middle of that fight had been different. He hadn’t hesitated to put himself in danger. He had risked himself for me. I clenched my hands in my lap, my fingers still stiff from gripping that gun so tightly. I wasn’t naive. I knew men like him didn’t do things without a reason. He wasn’t some noble protector. He was a Volkov, born and raised to be a killer. But then why had he looked at me the way he did after the fight? Why had there
Last Updated : 2025-02-13The Devil's Vow #1: Crimson Promises Crimson 13
The hum of the car engine filled the silence as I stared out the window. The Italian countryside blurred past, but I barely noticed. My mind was elsewhere, tangled in frustration and exhaustion. The past few weeks had been a whirlwind of wedding preparations, negotiations, and tense conversations with Damian. No matter what I said or did, he remained as cold and unreadable as ever. The only time I had seen anything other than indifference from him was when we argued—which was often. Now, we were on our way back to Italy, accompanied by a convoy of Damian’s men and a few of my father’s guards. It was meant to be a show of strength, proof that our families were united. But the truth was, I felt more like a prisoner than a bride-to-be. I glanced at Damian, who sat across from me in the sleek black SUV. He was focused on his phone, his jaw tight, his expression unreadable. Even in a setting like this, he carried himself with an air of control, as if he was untouchable. I hated
Last Updated : 2025-02-13The Devil's Vow #1: Crimson Promises Crimson 12
The argument started over something simple—floral arrangements for the wedding. Isabella had spent the morning with the wedding planner, selecting the perfect details. She had picked white roses—timeless, elegant, and a symbol of new beginnings in Italian tradition. It was one of the few decisions she felt she had control over. But the moment Damian walked into the room and saw the samples, he dismissed them with a single sentence. “Red roses,” he stated firmly, barely looking up from the documents in his hand. Isabella frowned, setting down her cup of coffee. “Excuse me?” Damian finally glanced at her, his expression unreadable as always. “White is for mourning in Russia,” he said flatly. “Unless you want our wedding to look like a funeral, change it.” Her grip tightened around the edge of the table. “And you decided this without even asking me?” “I didn’t think I needed to explain something so obvious.” Isabella let out a sharp breath, trying to suppress the irritation
Last Updated : 2025-02-13The Devil's Vow #1: Crimson Promises Crimson 11
The moment the plane landed in Moscow, I knew I didn’t belong here. The sky was gray, the air sharp with cold, a stark contrast to the warmth of Italy. Even inside the private car that awaited us, I could feel the chill seep into my bones. I pulled my coat tighter around me, trying to suppress the shiver that ran through my body—not just from the cold, but from the dread tightening my chest. I had never been to Russia before, and honestly, I had never wanted to. Yet, here I was, forced into an engagement I despised, traveling to a foreign place that felt nothing like home. Damian sat beside me in the car, silent as ever, his posture rigid and unreadable. He hadn’t spoken a word to me since we left Italy, and I wasn’t exactly eager to start a conversation. The tension between us had only grown in the days leading up to this trip. I hated how unaffected he seemed by everything. As if our upcoming marriage was nothing more than a business deal—and to him, maybe it was. The drive to t
Last Updated : 2025-02-13The Devil's Vow #1: Crimson Promises Crimson 10
The morning air was crisp, but the chill that ran down my spine had nothing to do with the temperature. The mansion was suffocating, its cold walls and towering ceilings making me feel more like a prisoner than a bride-to-be. Wedding preparations were in full swing, and I could hear the distant hum of workers setting up for the grand event. Yet, none of it felt real. I wasn’t the kind of girl who had spent her childhood dreaming about a fairy-tale wedding. But even if I had, I was certain this wasn’t what I would have imagined. A wedding built on obligation, a groom who barely acknowledged my presence, and a future that felt more like a punishment than a new beginning. I stood by the large window of my new bedroom, arms crossed as I watched the workers moving around the estate. My estate. Or rather, his estate. I had only been here for a few days, and already, I hated it. The door behind me swung open without warning. I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Damian. His
Last Updated : 2025-02-13The Devil's Vow #1: Crimson Promises Crimson 9
The dim light from the chandelier cast long shadows across my father’s study, making the already heavy atmosphere feel suffocating. The room smelled of leather, old books, and faint traces of cigar smoke—a scent I had grown up with, one that always meant serious conversations were about to take place. But tonight was different. Tonight, my father wasn’t just making a decision about business or alliances. He was deciding my fate. I sat stiffly in the high-backed leather chair, my hands clenched in my lap as I struggled to keep my emotions in check. Across from me, Giovanni Moretti, my father, sat in his usual position behind the massive wooden desk, his expression unreadable. He had always been a man of power, someone who rarely showed emotion, but tonight, I could see something lurking in his eyes—determination, maybe even a hint of regret. “You know this is the only way, Isabella,” he said, his voice even and controlled. The words felt like a death sentence. I had heard them
Last Updated : 2025-02-13The Devil's Vow #1: Crimson Promises Crimson 8
The cold night air stung my skin as we sped away from the burning remains of my engagement gala. My heart was still pounding, my hands shaking. The echoes of gunfire and screaming guests rang in my ears, refusing to fade. My emerald-green gown, once pristine, was now torn and stained with blood—some of it mine, but most of it not. I couldn’t believe what had just happened. I had known this engagement was built on politics, on power. But I never expected a war to erupt in the middle of my engagement party. Whoever sent those assassins didn’t just want to disrupt the event. They wanted to kill us. I turned my head to Damian, who sat beside me in the backseat of the car, his sharp jaw clenched, his piercing blue eyes fixed on the road ahead. He looked completely calm, as if this were just another business meeting gone wrong. How could he be so unaffected? I swallowed hard and forced out a question. “Do you know who they were?” Damian didn’t look at me. “No.” I narrowed my eyes. “A
Last Updated : 2025-02-13The Devil's Vow #1: Crimson Promises Crimson 7
The chandelier above me sparkled like thousands of tiny stars, casting shimmering reflections across the grand ballroom. Everything about this engagement gala was designed to impress—the towering floral arrangements, the golden accents on the tables, the soft sound of a live orchestra filling the air. It was breathtaking. And yet, I couldn’t breathe. My dress, a stunning emerald-green gown, felt like a cage wrapped around me, its fabric clinging to my skin as if it wanted to suffocate me. The guests—powerful men and elegant women from both the Moretti and Volkov families—moved around the room like pieces on a chessboard, exchanging pleasantries, shaking hands, making deals hidden beneath polite smiles. This was not a celebration of love. It was a performance. A performance I wanted no part in. I stood beside my father, Giovanni Moretti, who greeted each guest with the confidence of a man who ruled his world. To his right was him—Damian Volkov. My fiancé. The man I had been forced
Last Updated : 2025-02-13
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Crimson 1
The warm rays of the Italian sun caressed my skin as I walked through the gardens, the vibrant blooms swaying gently in the breeze. To anyone else, this might have been paradise—a private villa on the outskirts of Milan, sprawling gardens that seemed to stretch forever, and the undeniable luxury of a life untouched by struggle. But to me, it was a cage. A beautiful, gilded cage, but a cage nonetheless.I stopped near the edge of the fountain, the sound of trickling water mingling with the distant chirping of birds. It was peaceful here, but peace was something I had never truly felt. There was always the weight of expectations pressing down on me, a suffocating reminder that no matter how far I wandered in this vast estate, I could never escape the invisible chains that bound me to my family’s name.I reached down to touch a rose, its petals soft against my fingertips. Even flowers like these seemed freer than I was. They could bloom without anyone watching their every move, without s...
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