Chapter 5

Seraphina's POV

The estate smelled like secrets and expensive roses.

Seraphina Vale followed the stone path through the south garden in silence, her bare arms catching sunlight that hadn’t touched her in days. The grass was too green, too perfect—like it was terrified to grow wrong in Lucien Marchesi’s shadow.

She wasn’t supposed to be here. That made it better.

The rules were simple: no unsupervised movement beyond the east wing. No entering restricted areas. No questioning the help. Which meant every footstep outside the mapped route was its own rebellion.

And rebellions, even small ones, made her feel alive.

“Are you lost?” said a voice behind her.

She didn’t turn around.

“Depends on who’s asking.”

The voice moved closer. Male. Smooth. Amused.

“If I said Lucien sent me, would that make a difference?”

She turned.

The man was tall, lean, immaculately dressed in an open charcoal vest and slacks. Olive-toned skin, wavy brown hair just over the eyes, and a smirk that belonged to someone who got away with everything.

“I’d say you’re lying,” Seraphina replied, folding her arms. “Lucien doesn’t ‘send’ people. He commands them.”

He laughed. “True. I’m Matteo. Lucien’s cousin. Technically. Occasionally useful, always charming.”

“You don’t sound dangerous.”

“I’m not. But I’m expensive.”

She stared at him.

He offered a hand.

She didn’t take it.

Matteo’s grin didn’t falter. “Fair. You must be the new favorite. Seraphina Vale. The infamous auction girl.”

“Is that what they’re calling me?”

“No. That’s just what Adriana calls you when she’s pretending she doesn’t care.”

Seraphina raised an eyebrow. “And who’s Adriana?”

Matteo tilted his head. “His ex. Or current. Depends on how bored he is. She doesn’t like sharing.”

The information landed with a hollow thud in her chest. Of course Lucien had a woman—maybe several. He probably rotated them like wine. Different notes, different nights.

But her expression stayed blank.

Matteo watched her closely. “You don’t flinch easily.”

“You’re not scary.”

“That’s what everyone says. Before I ruin them at poker.”

Back inside, Seraphina found Raina waiting.

“You weren’t in your room,” the housekeeper said, voice neutral.

“I went for a walk.”

“Without clearance.”

“Without a leash.”

Raina sighed. “Miss Vale—”

“You don’t need to report me. He already knows.”

Raina tilted her head. “Then why do it?”

Seraphina stared at her. “Because if he expects me to play pet, I want him to know I bite.”

Dinner was quiet.

Lucien didn’t speak when she entered. He merely gestured to the seat across from him and poured her wine she wouldn’t drink.

She sat. Back straight. Chin high.

“You met Matteo,” he said.

“He told me about Adriana.”

Lucien’s eyes didn’t waver. “Did it upset you?”

“No,” she said.

He waited.

“But it made me curious.”

“About what?”

“Why she’s still around, if she’s an ex.”

Lucien leaned back slightly. “Adriana is useful.”

“So was I,” Seraphina said, voice soft, sharp.

“Are you not anymore?”

She smiled faintly. “I guess we’ll find out.”

After dinner, he didn’t dismiss her.

Instead, he stood and said, “Walk with me.”

Seraphina hesitated, then followed. Through the west corridor, past old oil paintings of long-dead Marchesi men. None of them smiled.

Lucien spoke without looking at her.

“I’ve run this empire since I was twenty-three. Everyone who comes to me wants something. Money. Power. Protection. You’re no different.”

Seraphina stopped walking. “You think I want your protection?”

He stopped too. Turned.

“No. I think you want my throne.”

Her breath caught.

He stepped closer, voice quiet.

“And I think you might be the first person I’ve met who could take it.”

She should have been afraid.

But instead, she smiled.

“Then you’d better watch me carefully.”

 - - - - -

Seraphina didn’t flinch at the sound of heels clicking on marble. But she knew what was coming.

The air had shifted.

Colder. Sharper.

Perfumed with something too sweet.

She glanced up from her seat on the terrace just in time to see the woman sweep into view—flawless, fire-lipped, and wrapped in a silk dress the color of fresh blood.

Adriana Moretti.

Of course.

She looked exactly how Seraphina imagined Lucien’s former lover would: devastating, imperious, and gliding like she owned every breath in the room.

“Oh,” Adriana said, tilting her head. “You’re real.”

Seraphina blinked once. “I’ve heard the same about you. Though most myths are older.”

Adriana’s laugh was soft and cruel. “I like her,” she said to no one in particular. “She’s already got claws.”

Seraphina sipped her tea, not rising. “Not claws. Knives. Sharper. Quieter.”

The tension between them sharpened.

Adriana took a seat without invitation, crossing one long leg over the other. She wore diamonds the size of teardrops, but nothing about her looked like she cried.

“I suppose we should be civilized,” Adriana said.

“I suppose we should pretend that matters.”

Adriana smiled. “You’re going to get hurt.”

“Probably,” Seraphina said. “But not first.”

Later, in her suite, Raina arrived with a tray of rose-petal pastries and a note.

Lucien’s handwriting. Impossibly clean.

“Don’t mistake her presence for affection. She’s not mine. And you never were hers to intimidate.”

Seraphina read it three times before burning it in the fireplace.

That night, Lucien appeared at her door.

He didn’t knock. Just opened it, like the room never truly belonged to her.

She didn’t jump. She was used to him entering like silence itself.

“You brought her here to provoke me,” Seraphina said.

“I brought her here to test her.”

“And me?”

His gaze flicked to her hands. She wasn’t shaking. Wasn’t shielding herself.

“You don’t need testing,” he said.

“Because I already failed?”

“No,” Lucien said. “Because I don’t want to know what happens if you pass.”

Seraphina exhaled.

There it was again.

The way he said things with too much weight. Like words could cut deeper than knives.

She rose from the chair, slowly crossing the room.

“You trust her?” she asked.

“I trust her to want the wrong things for the right reasons.”

“And me?”

Lucien’s voice dropped. “I don’t trust you at all.”

“Smart man.”

“But I’m still here.”

They were close now. Close enough that if she tilted her head, their mouths might touch.

She didn’t move.

Neither did he.

“Why?” she whispered.

Lucien’s expression didn’t change, but his voice did. It cracked. Just barely.

“Because I want something I know I shouldn’t.”

Her breath caught.

But instead of asking what, she turned away.

She wouldn’t be the first to break tonight.

Later that night.. 

Seraphina dreamt of fire again.

Only this time, she wasn’t on the auction platform.

She was on Lucien’s throne.

And Adriana watched from the shadows, wearing a necklace of names Seraphina had burned to ashes.