Bruised Ego!

The Morning After

The next morning, Vincenzo woke up with a pounding headache. He found himself lying on the cold balcony floor. He blinked against the sunlight, sat up slowly, and rubbed his temples. For a second, he didn’t understand how he got there.

Then it all came rushing back; the touching, the drinking, the way she looked at him last night without fear. Seraphina had gotten under his skin.

“Damn you, Seraphina,” he muttered under his breath.

He pulled himself to his feet and staggered inside, reaching for the cabinet where he kept hangover pills. He freshened up quickly and walked back into his bedroom.

And there she was. Lying on the bed peacefully as if nothing in the world could disturb her. Her cheek pressed gently into the pillow, her hair messy but soft, her lips slightly parted like a baby in a cradle.

Vincenzo paused in the doorway. She looked like she belonged there, in his bed.

He approached slowly, each step filled with confusion he didn’t want to admit. He sat at the edge of the bed, staring at her.

'Why are you sleeping like this?' he thought bitterly. 'After tormenting me...'

He lifted his hand to her face. At first, he meant to be harsh, to jolt her awake.... but instead, his fingers moved slowly, almost without thinking. He ran his hand gently through her hair, brushing it back, and let his palm rest on her head. For a second, something warm settled inside him.

He smiled faintly, and then her lips curved into a smile in her sleep.

That smile changed everything.

His own expression twisted into something darker. The calm in her expression felt like an insult. How dare she smile? After all the chaos she caused him last night? He felt mocked. 

“Seraphina De Luca,” he growled sharply. “What the hell are you smiling at in your sleep? Is it Jarvis? Are you dreaming about him while lying in my bed?”

His anger erupted like fire. “You have the audacity to sleep peacefully after ruining my night? Huh?” he spat.

In one violent motion, he ripped the duvet off her. Then he grabbed her by the ear and dragged her off the bed like she weighed nothing.

“Aaah! Son of ....!” she screamed in pain, jerking awake.

“After driving me mad last night, you’re here snoring like a pampered princess?” he shouted, his face inches from hers.

“What did I do?” she gasped, barely able to catch her breath as pain shot through her ear.

“I didn’t marry you so you could sleep like royalty,” Vincenzo snapped. “You’re mine to command. You’ll be shaped to fit me, whether you like it or not. This is your life now.”

With a cruel push, he flung her back.

She hit the ground hard. Her side slammed into a bamboo stool, snapping the wood. A glass bottle rolled and smashed on impact, and a sharp piece slashed her wrist.

But she didn’t cry out, she stood slowly. Her hand was bleeding and her back aching. Yet not a word escaped her lips.

And then… she walked out in silence.

Vincenzo stared after her in disbelief. He expected resistance. A slap. A spit in the face. He expected her to fight.

Instead, she left like nothing happened.

It rattled him.

He sat there, his eyes fixed on the broken stool, her blood trailing faintly on the white floor.

'Why didn't she say anything?'

Minutes passed, then hours. He tried working....tried drowning himself in meetings, documents, orders, anything to keep his mind off her. But it didn’t work. He kept seeing her walking away in his head. That blank expression, the way she didn’t scream.

By late afternoon, he snapped his laptop shut in frustration.

“Emma!” he barked.

Emma appeared instantly at the door. “Yes, boss?”

“Where is Seraphina?”

Emma hesitated. “I... I haven’t seen her since yesterday. Maybe she’s in her room?”

Vincenzo’s jaw tensed. “Send the guards to bring her to the poolside. Now.”

“Yes, boss.”

*******

Vincenzo sat under the giant umbrella by the pool, sprawling lazily on Estrella King’s expensive sun couch like royalty. His shirt was unbuttoned, his hair slightly damped from a quick rinse. He held a glass of whiskey, letting the bitter taste bite his tongue.

A guard arrived with Seraphina.

She looked pale, but calm.

She paused a few feet away from him.

Vincenzo didn’t look at her directly. He sipped his drink, then muttered, “Enjoyed your time alone, wify?”

He let the words linger in the air before continuing.

“Your husband has been working hard since morning. I couldn’t sleep last night because of your drama. Now come here, massage my head.”

He tapped the cushion beside him like it was a throne.

She stood there staring at him in disgust.

His voice dropped, filled with warning. “Would you prefer I massage you instead? With something harder?”

Without a word, she stepped forward. She came behind him, leaned down, and started massaging his temples with soft, slow fingers.

He stiffened at first.

No one had ever dared touch his head.

But her hands were soft and her movements gentle.

And somehow, it made something inside him at ease. Like a knot untying.

The pressure in his head began to fade. Her fingers moved with surprising grace, pressing his tension away.

His eyelids lowered slightly.

A strange thought crossed his mind: 'I could get used to this.'

He almost smiled.

Emma, who was standing by the pool, stared at the scene with wide eyes. “Wow! Didn’t know the Devil enjoyed head massages,” she said under her breath.

Vincenzo’s eyes snapped open.

He scowled, straightening up as if caught doing something shameful. He cleared his throat, set his glass down, and barked, “Wify. My legs hurt too. Massage them”

He raised one leg and rested it on the coffee table, leaning back again like a boss in command.

Seraphina didn’t protest. She dropped to her knees, gently lifting his leg and pressing her palms into his calf. He watched her work in silence.

“You’re quiet today,” he muttered after a few minutes. “Not going to throw a tantrum? Or maybe you're too scared now?”

She said nothing. Her fingers moved over his leg with precision.

“Or maybe,” he added with a smirk, “you’re learning your place.”

Then he bent forward just slightly… and placed a hand on her head. He stroked her hair once, slowly. His fingers brushed softly, "my lovely obedient wife" 

Even as an orphan, Seraphina had never undergone the torture and humiliation she had passed through by Vincenzo.

Tears slid down her cheeks. She tilted her face slightly so he wouldn’t see, but then one teardrop fell and touched his skin.

He froze.

He didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he slowly pulled his leg away from her. “Enough. Get up"