008

Serafina De Luca:

By the end of the day, I barely recognized myself anymore.

The Marazona staff had apparently interpreted “body care” as a full reconstruction project because I had spent the last eight hours being washed, polished, moisturized, trimmed, massaged, perfumed, styled, and stared at by aggressively elegant women who all looked mildly offended by the condition I arrived in.

My hair had been softened and curled into glossy waves that fell neatly down my back. My skin smelled faintly of expensive oils and floral creams. My nails, which I usually destroyed whenever I was anxious, had been carefully shaped and painted a soft pale color.

Even my wardrobe had somehow doubled overnight.

Again.

The dresses hanging inside my closet now looked like they belonged to someone graceful and important instead of a girl who used to scrub floors inside old house gowns.

It felt strange.

Nice.

Terrifying.

Because a small part of me kept waiting for someone to suddenly laugh and admit this had all been a mistake.

By the time night settled over the estate, the house had grown quieter. Most of the staff moved silently through the halls while the massive chandeliers cast soft golden light over the polished floors below.

Still no sign of Vincenzo.

Or Donna Marazona.

I sat alone near one of the upper balconies overlooking the grand staircase, nervously twisting my fingers together while rehearsing the same sentences repeatedly in my head.

Thank you for letting me stay.

No, too desperate.

Thank you for the room.

Too awkward.

Good evening, Don Vincenzo.

God, why did even greeting him feel life-threatening?

I exhaled slowly and leaned back against the chair.

If I was going to survive here, I needed to stop behaving like a frightened animal every five seconds.

This family valued composure.

Grace.

Control.

And somehow I needed to become the type of woman who fit inside a place like this.

Even if I had absolutely no idea how.

So when I finally heard quiet footsteps near the entrance below, I immediately straightened.

Vincenzo had returned.

My stomach tightened instantly.

He walked through the front hall with two men behind him, dressed in an expensive black suit with his tie already loosened slightly beneath the collar. He looked exhausted in the same dangerous way thunderstorms looked exhausted before destroying something.

One of the guards said something quietly to him.

Vincenzo answered without slowing down.

Then his eyes lifted.

And landed directly on me.

I flinched so hard I nearly forgot how human movement worked.

“Oh.” I stood too quickly. “Good evening, Don Vincenzo.”

He gave one small nod before continuing toward the staircase.

Then he stopped halfway.

“What are you doing sitting there?”

I blinked.

“Oh. Uhm…”

Think.

Act normal.

“I was just…” My confidence collapsed immediately beneath his stare. “Waiting a little.”

His expression remained unreadable.

“For what?”

My heart started beating faster.

Honestly?

I had no idea anymore.

“I thought maybe…” I swallowed nervously. “A wife should greet her husband when he returns home?”

One of the guards behind him suddenly looked deeply interested in the floor.

Vincenzo stared at me for several long seconds before walking up the staircase without another word.

Oh God.

That had been horrible.

Still, once he reached the top step, he stopped again and held out his hand without looking at me.

It took me a second to understand.

His jacket.

I hurried forward immediately and carefully took the expensive suit jacket from him with slightly shaking hands. Up close he smelled faintly of cologne, rain, and cigarette smoke.

Very expensive cigarette smoke.

“Thank you,” I said quietly.

He looked at me once.

“Why are you thanking me for carrying my own jacket?”

Right.

Of course.

“Sorry—” I caught myself instantly. “Not sorry. I mean…”

Dear God.

His eyes narrowed slightly as though my existence continued confusing him on a biological level.

Then he simply walked away toward his private suite.

And like an idiot…

I followed him.

Not intentionally at first.

It just sort of happened automatically.

One of the guards opened the doors to his suite while Vincenzo disappeared inside without checking whether I was still behind him. I stepped in carefully after him before placing the jacket neatly over the back of the couch.

The fire near the sitting area burned low tonight, casting warm shadows across the dark room while rain tapped softly against the windows.

Vincenzo loosened the rest of his tie with one hand before removing it completely. Then, without the slightest hesitation, he started unbuttoning his shirt while walking toward the bedroom section beyond the sitting area.

My brain stopped functioning immediately.

Because apparently no one had warned this man that casually undressing in front of nervous women should probably be illegal.

I looked away so fast my neck almost hurt.

Unfortunately not before noticing the sharp lines of muscle beneath his shirt and the faint dark tattoo disappearing beneath the collar near his chest.

Oh no.

Oh this was terrible.

I stood there frozen beside the couch while my entire face burned.

A few seconds passed before his voice cut through the silence.

“What exactly do you want?”

I nearly jumped.

Vincenzo had paused halfway toward the bedroom doorway, shirt hanging open now while he looked at me with visible impatience.

“I…” My throat suddenly felt dry. “Nothing.”

“That is clearly not true.”

“I just…” I twisted my fingers together nervously. “I wanted to do things properly.”

One dark eyebrow lifted slightly.

“Properly?”

I nodded quickly.

“I mean… as your wife.”

The silence that followed made my pulse even worse.

Then Vincenzo gave a quiet exhale through his nose before continuing to unbutton his sleeves completely unfazed by my ongoing internal collapse.

“You are trying very hard,” he observed flatly.

My cheeks heated further.

“I’m trying not to embarrass you.”

That finally seemed to catch his attention slightly.

Not emotionally.

More like intellectually.

His gaze moved over me once, slower this time.

The styled hair.

The soft dress.

The nervous posture.

“The staff got carried away,” he said calmly.

I blinked in confusion.

“With what?”

“You.”

I stared at him.

Then slowly looked down at myself.

“Oh.”

A strange silence settled again.

Then, before I could stop myself, the words slipped out quietly.

“Do I look better?”

The second I asked it, I wanted to disappear permanently.

Vincenzo glanced at me once before continuing to unbutton his cuffs.

“You look less concerning.”

I blinked.

“…What does that mean?”

“It means you no longer resemble someone recovering from famine.”

Oh.

Oddly enough, that still felt like a compliment coming from him.

Heat crept into my face anyway.

“Oh.”

His eyes lifted toward me again briefly.

“Now what else do you want?”

I hesitated.

Then immediately regretted existing.

“I was wondering…” I twisted my fingers together nervously. “If maybe I should stay here tonight.”

Silence.

Complete silence.

Vincenzo stared at me for several long seconds.

“With me.”

Wonderful.

Now I sounded clinically insane.

My face burned instantly.

“I mean—not for sex!” I rushed out quickly. “Not that I think you’d want that! I just thought maybe married couples usually sleep in the same room and I’m trying to do things properly and—”

“Serafina.”

I stopped immediately.

He exhaled slowly and rubbed once at his temple like I was personally responsible for his worsening condition.

“You are exhausting.”