The devil, my husband

The devil, my husband

Nathan van den Broek · Ongoing · 43.8k Words

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Introduction

Nicolai Petrovich never wanted to be a hero—he has too much blood on his hands and too many ghosts in his past. The only thing that ever kept him human was his sister. And when Selene dies in a night of gunfire and chaos, something breaks inside him that will never heal again.
But hell has a sense of irony: on the day he buries his sister, Nicolai is forced into a marriage with Alessandro De Luca—the heir of the most ruthless mafia family in the city. The Phantom. The man everyone fears.
What was meant to be a political alliance quickly turns into a battle for dominance and sanity. Alessandro claims Nicolai as if he has every right to—through orders, through touch, through a kiss that feels less like affection and more like a brand burned into skin. And Nicolai hates it… almost as much as he hates that his body doesn’t always agree with him.
Caught between loyalty, guilt, and a man who sees right through him, Nicolai starts to fall. Deeper, darker, more dangerously than he ever should.
Because Alessandro is no legend, no myth—he’s far worse: a man who always gets what he wants.
And he wants Nicolai.
What follows is a war of desire, power, and broken promises. A marriage that isn’t one. A prison without bars. And a man fighting not to lose himself to someone who might bring him back to life… or destroy him completely.
Forced Marriage with the Devil — a story about obsession, pain, unwanted intimacy, and the slow, brutal fight for freedom… or personal ruin.

Chapter 1

Nicolai’s perspective

It was a dinner like any other, yet tonight was no ordinary night. I listened to my parents talk about business, about the successful meeting with Viktor De Luca. And my sister? She had been forcing a smile since the first bite. A smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Sad enough to make my blood boil.

“You hypocrites!” I suddenly shouted across the room, slamming my fists on the table so hard that my chair toppled backward as I rose in the height of my anger.

Iris, our young housemaid, flinched. She rushed to pick up the fallen chair while my father slowly turned toward me—his gaze cold, calculated.

Then he barked, “Nicolai! Sit down!”

“No, father! I won’t sit here and listen to you talk about your damn meeting with De Luca when we all know exactly what it was about—and that it will destroy her life! How could you sign such a contract? How could you sell Selena to that devil? She’s your daughter! And he… he— damn it, how could you do this to her?”

I watched how my twin sister stood up from the table with tears in her eyes and ran out of the room, probably back into her bedroom. Ever since we found out two weeks ago that our father had arranged a marriage contract five years earlier—between Selena and Alessandro to secure an alliance between our families—she barely left her room at all.

“Nicolai!” my father warned, and I could hear in his voice how angry he was and how much effort it cost him to keep control.

“Rafaele, not tonight,” my mother pleaded softly, her gaze warm as it moved from him to me. “I’ll go check on Selena. Tomorrow is an important day. Rafaele, talk to your son.”

She left.

“He’ll break her! Selena has always been too gentle for this world!” My voice was still thick with anger, though I forced myself back into my seat.

“Your sister will be well taken care of.”

A dry, mocking laugh escaped me. “You don’t even believe that yourself! You’re handing her over to a monster. They call him The Phantom. Everyone knows the De Luca heir is a heartless bastard without a shred of mercy.”

For a moment, no one spoke. The silence was unbearable. I clenched my fists so tightly my nails dug into my palms.

Father leaned back in his chair and signaled Iris to clear the table. “This contract was necessary. You know how this works. I didn’t bring you into my business for nothing, my son. Selena will marry tomorrow, and Alessandro will be her husband.”

“And what about what she wants? What about her studies? Did you even ask her once if she wants this?”

“No. And it doesn’t matter.”

With those words, my father stood and headed toward his office. I followed him.

I wanted to say something—anything. But what would it have changed? Words bounced off him like bullets off concrete. Maybe he wasn’t a De Luca, but my father was still a cold mafioso with a heart of stone.

In his office, he sat at his desk and resumed working when his phone vibrated.

“De Laurentiis.”

…

“What?” His eyes narrowed. “God damn it. I’m coming.”

He slammed the phone onto the desk, anger radiating from him, then turned to me.

“I don’t have time for more of your drama. Vito stays here. You keep an eye on your sister. Do you hear me? No mistakes. No hesitation. No bullshit. Don’t make me regret this, Nicolai.”

“Yes, Father.”

I left his office. I was still furious, and seeing Vito leaning against the doorframe with that infuriating smirk, eyeing me up and down, didn’t help.

Before I did something I’d regret, I buried my fists in my pockets.

“You know he likes you more when you say ‘Yes, Father’ without sounding like you’re about to burn the house down,” Vito commented as I passed him.

I wanted to whirl around and punch that smug smile off his face. Say something—anything. But I didn’t. I just kept walking up the stairs, hearing my father bark more orders at Vito before slamming the door behind him.

I continued down the long hallway to the west wing, to my room.

Once inside, I leaned against the door, eyes shut, forcing myself to move—to shower, to brush my teeth. I let my clothes fall to the floor, stepped under the hot water that beat against my tense shoulders, and my thoughts drifted again and again to my sister—and how our father could do this to her.

When I finally snapped out of the trance, the sun had long set. I washed mechanically, grabbed a towel, dried off, and put on simple workout clothes—joggers, a shirt.

I had planned to go train, but before that, I wanted to check on Selena again.

I knocked on her door opposite mine. A memory hit me—us sitting on our beds with tin-can phones, laughing and plotting pranks on our nannies. Selena’s laugh was so light back then, as though the world had no weight.

The creaking of the door cut through the memory.

“Hey, Sis.”

I stepped into her room and immediately pulled her into a tight hug. Her long dark curls fell over her shoulders and back, her face bare of makeup, eyes red, tearstreaks still drying on her cheeks. One arm held her against me, the other rested on her head, stroking her hair as she started crying again.

“I won’t let this happen, Selena! I’ll find a way to get you out of this.”

“You can’t, Nicolai. The De Luca family is too powerful! And Father already signed the contract.”

She clung to my shirt even harder, like it was the last thing keeping her anchored.

“I don’t care. And if I have to burn the entire damn De Luca family to the ground! You’re my little sister. It’s my duty to protect you and make sure you’re happy!”

Her eyes widened, shock clear as she processed what I’d just said.

“Nicolai, no! They would torture you to death!”

The thought made my jaw clench.

“Don’t worry, Sis. I’ll come up with something to get you out. I’m Father’s right hand… along with Vito.”

At the mention, her expression darkened.

“Nicolai! You know how I feel about that!”

“Yes, I know. And you know I had no choice.”

“I know. Still… you’re such a good person. Don’t let Father change that.”

“Selena… that sounds like a goodbye. You’re my twin. Nothing can separate us. And yes, I promise—I won’t let Father break me.”

I let the words settle before adding softly, “You’re the only one who can.”

I winked at her, and we talked a bit more before I finally headed to the gym in the east wing.

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