MARRIED TO THE MAFIA

Seraphina's POV

The final note lingered in the air, delicate yet powerful, the last whisper of a story told through my fingertips to the crowd. My hands rested on the piano keys, my chest rising and falling as the thunderous applause filled the concert hall. I was content.

I stood, offering a small bow, my face carefully composed despite the rush of emotions beneath my skin. This was my world now—music, art, creation. Not the shadows I was born into.

I stepped off the stage, my black satin dress flowing with each movement, and made my way toward the side exit for a breath of fresh air. The look in the eyes of the people I came across gladdened my heart. They looked like they were proud of me, like I was a star. The air outside was crisp, a contrast to the warmth of the hall, and I let out a slow exhale, the tension melting from my shoulders.

Tonight had been perfect. Almost surreal.

As I leaned against the cool stone wall, my phone buzzed in my clutch. A message from Ava, one of my youngest students.

"Miss Sera! I saw you on TV! You looked like a princess. One day, I'll play just like you. Promise!"

A soft smile touched my lips.

Ava was eight, full of dreams and wonder, her tiny fingers always eager to dance across the piano keys. Teaching her, watching her fall in love with music the way I once had, reminded me why I chose this life. Why I left.

I typed a quick reply, reassuring her that she could be even better than me, before pushing off the wall. Time to go back inside. However, the moment I turned toward the entrance, everything changed. A strong unrelenting hand clamped over my mouth.

I barely had a second to react before another arm wrapped around my waist, lifting me off the ground. Panic erupted inside me, my muffled scream swallowed by the night. I kicked, twisted, but it was useless. There were more of them—three, maybe four.

I fought harder, thrashing as they dragged me toward a black SUV parked just beyond the concert hall’s side entrance. My mind raced, heart hammering so fast it drowned out every sound but my own fear.

Who were they? Who sent them?

It could not have been my father. If he wanted to reach me, he wouldn’t resort to something this crude. He had ways—burner phones, encrypted networks, but this? This was something else, diabolical even.

And as they shoved me into the car, slamming the door shut, I knew one thing for certain: I wasn’t getting out of this on my own.

The engine roared to life, drowning out my ragged breathing. The scent of leather and something faintly metallic filled my lungs as I struggled against the zip ties biting into my wrists. My ankles were bound too, rendering any chance of escape impossible.

The car moved swiftly, weaving through the streets of London like a ghost vanishing into the night. No sirens, no witnesses. It was as if I had simply ceased to exist.

I swallowed hard, forcing my mind to work through the panic. Think, Sera. Who would do this?

Not my father. That much I knew. It couldn't have been anyone from my family.

But if not him, then who?

Whilst my thought process ran wild between who was behind this, the car came to a halt and i was dragged out, unto another vehicle, just not a car. Soon, I could feel the vehicle move and in that moment, I knew I was being taken out of London in a boat. Great. Just great.

[][][][][][][][]

As we arrived at wherever the boat stopped, I was again dragged into a car. This time, the make shift mask was removed from my face.

A deep voice cut through the silence. "Stop pretending."

I stilled. The man in the passenger seat turned slightly, his gaze sharp under the dim overhead light. He was older, maybe mid-forties, his face lined with experience rather than age. A soldier, trained and disciplined. Not a street thug.

Whoever sent them wasn’t playing games.

"Who are you?" My voice came out steadier than I expected. "Where are you taking me?"

The driver scoffed. "You’ll find out soon enough."

My stomach twisted. That wasn’t an answer, it souned like a threat.

I shifted, testing the strength of my restraints. Too tight. I wouldn’t be able to slip free without slicing into my skin. I glanced toward the tinted windows, but the city outside was unrecognizable at this speed.

No landmarks. No sense of direction. Nothing.

My breathing shallowed.

"If you’re after money, you’re wasting your time." I forced calm into my voice. "I don’t have any ties to my father. I haven’t seen him in years."

The man beside me let out a dry chuckle. "This ain’t about money, princess."

My jaw clenched. I knew what they saw when they looked at me. A Moreau. A pawn. Someone to be used, leveraged. But for what?

The car took a sharp turn, and my body jerked sideways. The weight of uncertainty pressed down on me, suffocating.

Then, as if to seal my fate, the driver spoke again.

"We’re almost there. Boss is waiting."

Boss.

Dread coiled around my ribs, squeezing tight. I wasn’t just being taken, I was being delivered to someone: and I had no idea to whom.

The car slowed.

Gravel crunched beneath the tires, the sound sharp in the thick silence. My pulse pounded in my ears as I forced myself to stay still, to breathe through the panic clawing at my chest. I had to stay sharp. I had to survive.

The door beside me jerked open, and before I could react, rough hands yanked me forward. My heels scraped against the ground as I was dragged out of the SUV, the night air cutting through the thin fabric of my dress.

A mansion loomed before me—dark, towering, a fortress more than a home. Warm light spilled from the tall windows, but it did nothing to ease the cold dread sinking into my bones.

"Move."

A hard shove between my shoulder blades sent me stumbling forward. I bit back a curse, straightening as much as my bound hands allowed. They wanted me scared. Weak. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

The men flanked me, leading me up the grand stone steps. The heavy doors swung open before we even reached them, revealing an opulent foyer bathed in golden light.

And at the center of it all, him.

A man sat on the edge of a mahogany desk, long legs stretched out in front of him, a glass of amber liquid swirling lazily in his hand. Sharp suit. Sharper gaze. He didn’t need to speak to command the room—the air itself seemed to shift around him, bending to his presence.

I knew power when I saw it and this man had it in excess.

My captors came to an abrupt stop, their grips tightening for just a second before releasing me. My knees nearly buckled, but I caught myself.

For a moment, the only sound was the soft clink of ice against glass as he took a slow sip of his drink. Then, finally, he looked at me with unreadable dark eyes.

And then, a smirk graced his bearded face.

"Seraphina Moreau." His voice was smooth, but laced with something colder underneath. "We finally meet."

I held his gaze, refusing to look away. I would not break.

"Who the hell are you?" I demanded.

He tilted his head, amusement flickering in his expression.

"Oh, sweetheart," He set his glass down, rising to his full height. Slowly, deliberately, he closed the distance between us, stopping just close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him.

"I am your father’s… what do we call this now? Business associate. I am Dante Moreau’s business associate and he betrayed me."

“Then what does it have to do with me?”

His fingers lifted, trailing lightly along my jaw.

"Well, you’re going to help me return the favor."

“How?”

His chuckle reverberated through the whole building, releasing echo after echo.

“Guess.”