~ Alessandro ~
The next morning. I had to return to work. I marched to her bedroom door, expecting it locked, expecting another defiance. It was.
But I had the master key.
She was sitting on the edge of the bed, her back to me, her shoulders stiff. "Go get Maze," she said. "She can do anything after all."
My jaw tightened. "Don't tell me you're jealous, Seraphina." I shot back.
"Fuck, never!" she barked, turning to face me, her eyes flashing, but I saw the tell-tale tightness around her mouth. She was. And the knowledge twisted something in my gut, a perverse satisfaction.
"Well, I'm going out," I stated, ignoring her lie. "My men will deliver a truckload of clothing to you. Tonight, I have a party in one of my clubs, and you'll be there with me. They'll bring you." I turned, leaving no room for argument, the scent of her anger clinging to the air.
***
After the daily drill, I returned to T-Point Club for the party. The club pulsed with the heavy beat of electronic music, a chaotic symphony of bodies and flashing lights.
I stood on the owner's floor, a VIP section overlooking the main dance floor, a glass of amber liquid in my hand.
My men, silent shadows, were strategically placed throughout the club. Control. Always control.
Then I saw her. My jaw clenched so hard I thought my teeth would crack. She was being escorted by my chauffeur, a small, defiant figure making her way through the throng towards me.
Her gown… it was so short, so brazenly revealing, it infuriated me. Black silk, barely covering her thighs, clinging to every curve.
Men turned, their heads snapping as she passed, their eyes devouring her. My blood ran cold. She was hot. Too hot. And she knew it. She had done this to provoke me.
I rushed down the stairs to meet her. My hand shot out, grasping her arm. "Why would you wear this?" I demanded.
Her eyes met mine. "I'm not your wife! I can meet anybody here!" She pulled her arm from my grasp. Then, a slow, taunting smile spread across her lips. "You know, it's short, I'll just raise it for whoever I want.” She reached down, her fingers fumbling with the hem of the gown, preparing to hike it even higher.
My hand shot out, grabbing the fabric and yanking it back down. "Don't you dare!"
She pushed me, a surprisingly strong shove, then spun on her heel.
My eyes followed her, my gaze drawn by the defiant sway of her hips as she descended the last few steps, heading directly into the chaotic "mosh pit" of the main dance floor.
This was another challenge. A public one. Against my reputation. I watched, my jaw tight, my body rigid.
A man, tall and muscular, approached her. He leaned in, speaking to her. My fists clenched. I expected her to dance with him, to further infuriate me. But then, I saw her stiffen. Her head pulled back. Something was wrong.
The man grabbed her arm. My blood froze. She was pushing him, trying to pull away. This wasn't a game.
I moved. No thought, just instinct. I plunged down the remaining stairs, pushing through the bodies. "Seraphina!" The crowd was a living, breathing wall, slowing my progress.
I lost sight of her. Fear, cold and sharp, pierced through the red haze of my anger. They've seen her as my soft spot. They've come to steal her! The thought was like a thunderclap in my head.
My eyes scanned the thrashing bodies and the flashing lights. Then I looked up to the second (VIP) floor, directly opposite my own.
And there she was. Dragged into a dark corner. The man was pressing her against a wall, his hand trying to insert itself into her gown from below.
Rage exploded within me. My hand went to my silenced golden revolver. I ran up the stairs, two at a time.
One shot. Just one. My target. The man's elbow. A swift, clean break.
The shot was a muffled thwip amidst the pulsating music, unheard by anyone but me and, presumably, him.
He cried out as he recoiled to a corner.
I was there in an instant, seizing Seraphina's waist, pulling her flush against me, my body shielding hers. “Are you all right?”
She nodded. She shivered in my arms.
The man, cradling his now useless arm, looked up at me. His eyes, cold and familiar, met mine. A cruel smile twisted his lips, despite the pain. "What a reunion, Alessandro Torricelli."
My blood ran cold. My breath hitched. “Fuck!”
“Seraphina Russell! Now you know who it is. Don't you?” He said with a chuckle.
“Dino Moretti?” I called.
The name was a curse, ripping from my throat. The campus power. The bully. The one I couldn't touch. The one whose family overshadowed mine back then.
"You have summoned war, Torricelli," Dino said. "And blood will sate it." He turned and walked slowly down the stairs, disappearing into the crowd.
As he left, I finally registered it. His men. They were there, everyone in their white hats, following Dino Moretti toward the exit.
He knew what he was doing. He knew it was my club. He knew Seraphina was there.
My uncle, Marco, rushed to me. "What have you done, Alessandro?!" he demanded. "This is war! I warned you about her, didn't I? A weak spot. A fatal flaw!"
***
The drive home was a suffocating silence. I didn't speak. Couldn't speak. The fury at Dino, the sickening realization that Seraphina, my obsession, my beautiful, defiant Seraphina, had brought this war to my doorstep.
She was a walking target now.
Once we were back at the mansion, I turned to her. My voice was flat, devoid of emotion, a desperate attempt to sever the connection that now threatened to consume us both. "My jet will take you back to York Isles tonight. You are free, Seraphina."
Her eyes stared back at me. "No," she said.
I didn't argue. I just walked, towards my room, towards the desperate need to be alone, to think, to strategize. To survive.
But she followed. I heard her footsteps behind me, light and persistent. I stopped in the hallway, turning to face her. "You have to go, Seraphina," I said. "This is war. I have to face it."
She stepped closer, her hand reaching for my arm, her touch soft, tentative. "Let me face it with you. I caused it, and I'm sorry. I didn't know he'd be there. I was just... playing around."
"It doesn't matter," I ground out, my voice raw with the effort of pushing her away, of protecting her from the inevitable storm. "Dino is evil. Evil back then. Evil by now too. He'll find us. He'll kill you..." I spoke as I went into my room, pulling open the door, wanting her out of my sight, out of harm's way.
"Then I'll die by your side," she said as she followed me into the room.
I stopped dead, turning to look at her, my gaze searching hers. There was no defiance now. Only a fierce, unwavering blank stare.
"I don't need 365 days, Alessandro," she continued, her voice soft but firm. "It's just day three and I've decided. I love you, Alessandro. Please... don't push me away."
Darkness peeled away slowly, dragging me back to a world I didn’t want.The first thing I noticed was the bed. Soft. Too soft. The sheets smelled faintly of smoke and salt. My chest rose and fell in uneven jerks, each breath scraping my throat raw.And then—him.Dino Moretti.He sat shirtless on a stool in the corner, his arms draped over his knees as if he owned the air I breathed. The lamp behind him threw long shadows, carving his tattoos into shapes I didn’t want to recognize. His chest was broader than I remembered, cut with muscle, ink crawling over him like vines. On his side, just under the ribs, a scar glared white against his olive skin—the bullet wound Alessandro had left him.He smiled when he saw my eyes widen. “You lookin’, mia Sera? Don’t be shy now. This body’s been built on pain. And you know what?” He thumped his chest with one fist. “Still standin’. Still breathin’. Still the one everybody fears.”As if I cared if he ever got shot or dead. I couldn’t speak. My throat
~ Seraphina ~He stared at me, seconds, then he closed the distance between us and held me pinned. His breath was hot against my mouth, eyes dark with something that trembled between restraint and surrender.“I’ve waited too long,” he rasped, every word roughened with hunger. “Say the word, Seraphina.”The contract, the rules, the games we’d played to keep ourselves in check—all of it shattered inside me in that heartbeat.“Fuck the contract,” I whispered, clutching his jaw, staring into those burning eyes. “You own me.”His anger was swallowed in the kiss that followed, fierce and shaking, as though he’d been starved for years. Of course, he had.His hands were everywhere—at my waist, in my hair, sliding lower, urgent but reverent, like he didn’t know whether to claim or worship. The wall caught my back with a sharp thump, and I gasped into his mouth, clutching him tighter.Clothes fell away in a frantic blur. Buttons popped, fabric tore, neither of us patient enough to care. His che
~ Alessandro ~The next morning. I had to return to work. I marched to her bedroom door, expecting it locked, expecting another defiance. It was.But I had the master key.She was sitting on the edge of the bed, her back to me, her shoulders stiff. "Go get Maze," she said. "She can do anything after all."My jaw tightened. "Don't tell me you're jealous, Seraphina." I shot back."Fuck, never!" she barked, turning to face me, her eyes flashing, but I saw the tell-tale tightness around her mouth. She was. And the knowledge twisted something in my gut, a perverse satisfaction."Well, I'm going out," I stated, ignoring her lie. "My men will deliver a truckload of clothing to you. Tonight, I have a party in one of my clubs, and you'll be there with me. They'll bring you." I turned, leaving no room for argument, the scent of her anger clinging to the air.***After the daily drill, I returned to T-Point Club for the party. The club pulsed with the heavy beat of electronic music, a chaotic sy
~ Seraphina ~The darkness of my bedroom pressed in on me.Sleep was an impossible dream, haunted by the seductive power of Alessandro. Two to one, I whispered to myselfBut the win felt hollow. I needed more. I needed to beat him on aggregate, to make him crack, to make him feel the raw, insistent need that churned within me, a need I refused to acknowledge.I threw off the covers. My heart pounded a frantic rhythm against my ribs as I walked, my bare feet silent on the cool marble, towards his room.The door was slightly ajar, a sliver of light spilling into the hallway. I pushed it open.He was standing in the center of the vast room, wearing only a low-slung towel that barely covered his hips. Water slicked his skin, clinging to the hard planes of his chest and the defined lines of his abs.I walked in and sank onto the plush sofa by the window. I deliberately spread my legs, letting the silk nightgown part reveal a hint of my thighs.His eyes, dark and sharp, instantly locked ont
~ Seraphina ~The jet landed at Veridia airport, and as we walked, I yanked my hand from Mazikeen and bolted through the airport lobby. "Seraphina!" Alessandro's roar followed me.I spotted airport officials and rushed towards them. "Sir, I've been kidnapped! One Alessandro Torricelli! He even touched me!"They looked at each other and suddenly snapped to attention. "Jefe, bienvenido," they said.I turned. Alessandro stood there, a predatory smile on his lips. "You should have run in York Isles, Seraphina. This city… Veridia… is mine." He grabbed my hand and dragged me out.A black Rolls Royce waited in the garage, flanked by vans and men in dark coats. "Boss," they murmured. He shoved me into the car. I faced him, anger boiling. He smiled. I looked away.After some minutes, the car stopped before a fortress: high stone walls, razor wire, and grim guards. It wasn't a home; it was a prison.He meant the 365 days of imprisoning me? I wondered.Inside, the grand foyer gleamed with marble
Alessandro ~The sun streamed through the heavy curtains when I re-entered the room, carrying a stack of clothes.I watched her from the doorway, taking in the defiant set of her jaw even in sleep. She was fragile, yes, but there was a fire there, too. A fire I intended to stoke."Wake up, Seraphina," I commanded. "Time to get dressed."Her eyes fluttered open, then widened as they met mine. A flicker of fear was quickly replaced by stubborn defiance.I expected her to argue. But then she pushed herself up, the flimsy gown riding high on her thighs.I looked elsewhere. Even a reveal of her nape turned me on. Let alone her thigh.I placed the clothes on the bed: soft cotton underwear, a pair of loose, dark jeans, and a simple, fitted T-shirt. Practical. For travel. But even simple clothes on her would be a challenge."Get ready," I repeated.She glared at me, her chest heaving slightly. But she reached for the clothes, her movements deliberate, as if each touch was a rebellion.She pul