Chapter Four

SERAPHINA

The second photo was older — like, years old.

It was Amia. On a yacht, standing next to who seemed to be Dorian.

But he looked different. His hair was longer and he wasn’t wearing a suit. But I was sure it was him.

And she was smiling, not like she didn’t know him or like he was a stranger.

I blinked. Then again. And again. I wasn’t breathing, probably not thinking too. Just… staring.

It couldn’t be him.

No, scratch that — it shouldn’t be.

Then, a knock on my door.

And his voice—

“Serafina?”

His voice was too calm.

I stood frozen, my right thumb still on the photo of him and Amia. The screen glared back at me like it wanted to see how I’d react.

I didn’t react. I just locked the phone, shoved it face-down under a pillow, and turned towards the door.

“What?” I called.

A pause.

“We should talk.”

Translation: I want to know if you’ve figured it out yet.

I took my time opening the door. Not because I was nervous but because I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of thinking I was pressed.

He stood there, as usual. Composed and unbothered. Dorian was either the most emotionally balanced person alive, or just really committed to the bit.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“Do you own anything comfortable?”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“We’re leaving the house.”

I crossed my arms. “To go where?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Which annoyed me. If you’re going to surprise me, at least do it with confidence.

Finally, he said, “Somewhere…less noisy.”

I changed into a hoodie and flats because spite is free and comfort is power.

He waited in the living room, arms folded, jacket slung over the back of a chair like he lived here. I grabbed my phone — quickly opened the post again just to be sure I hadn’t hallucinated it.

I hadn’t.

Amia was smiling and what seemed like Dorian, was standing too close to her.

And neither of them looked like it was their first time meeting.

I couldn’t stop staring at that photo. I looked again and again until I could describe every single detail out loud.

But it couldn’t be real, right? Because ever since Dorian came into the picture, Amia had always flinched at the mention of his name.

Some weird reflex I just couldn’t explain. So I’m sure someone who flinched at his name couldn’t have anything to do with him.

It could be some….AI generated crap, probably a stunt to get a reaction from me.

Probably. Hopefully.

I shoved the phone into my tote, eyes narrowed.

“Let’s go.”

He didn’t ask questions. Just opened the door and walked out like we’d been married for ten years and still liked each other.

The car ride was quiet.

It wasn’t awkward or anything, just quiet.

I watched the city’s view through the window while Dorian typed something on his phone, probably plotting my emotional demise via calendar invite.

I didn’t ask where we were going. Mostly because I didn’t want to admit I was curious. Also because I was busy replaying the image of him and Amia in my head like a crime scene.

If he noticed I was thinking too hard, he didn’t show it.

We ended up in Malibu.

Of course we did.

Because when you fake-marry a man who reads like a business proposal in human form, he takes you to a private beach cafe with two security cameras, no paparazzi, and coffee that costs more than my rent in college.

He ordered for both of us.

I didn’t argue, because he somehow got my order right and I wasn’t about to start a feminism lecture over oat milk.

We sat outside.

For a minute, it almost felt like something.

Then he spoke.

“Your father’s donors are starting to fold.”

I blinked. “Okay... Creepy thing to open a conversation with.”

He didn’t react. “I figured you should know.”

“And you figured that out how?”

He stirred his coffee. “You’re not the only one who reads headlines.”

“No. But I’m the only one whose father still pretends I’m part of his family only when the cameras are rolling.”

“You’re useful when you behave.”

I stared at him. “Was that an opinion or an observation?”

“Yes.”

Yes? Yes to what? I didn’t ask. Just made a face like I’d just tasted regret.

I quickly snapped when my phone buzzed.

Text from Rhea:

Another client pulled out. One of Richard’s people called my office to “inquire” about our long-term goals. Be careful Sera, he’s playing chess again.

I didn’t answer.

I locked the phone, sat back, and studied the man across from me.

Dorian wasn’t twitchy or on edge. He didn’t fidget, blink too much, or even try to fill silences.

Like he knew exactly how things would unfold and wasn’t in a rush to watch it happen.

I sipped my drink. “So this is what you meant by ‘somewhere less noisy?’”

“You needed space.”

“And you needed photo ops?”

“I needed you out of your head.”

I laughed once. “That’s rich — coming from the man who lives in so much mystery.”

He didn’t smile. “You think I’m hiding something.”

“You ARE hiding something.”

He didn’t answer. He just clicked his tongue against his teeth while staring down slowly at his drink.

“Oh? You’re not?”

Touché.

On the way back, I didn’t look at him.

He didn’t seem bothered by that either.

When we reached the apartment, I walked in first, dropped my bag, and headed straight for the kitchen.

I wasn’t hungry. I just needed something to do with my hands.

He followed me in.

“You really don’t believe in casual conversations, do you?” I muttered.

“I don’t like wasting time.”

“Good. Then let me skip to the part where I pretend this is all going great.”

I opened the fridge and just stared at a bottle of oat milk I didn’t remember buying.

He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching me.

“Don’t forget to breathe,” he said.

I frowned. “What?”

“You do that,” he said lightly. “You hold your breath when you’re overwhelmed. You’ve done it since you were seventeen.”

I froze.

What the fuck?

Turned toward him, slowly.

“What did you just say?”

His expression flickered — just for half a second. Like the words had surprised even him.

Then it was gone, covered.

“I meant generally,” he said, brushing it off like it meant nothing. “A lot of people do that.”

I stared at him.

“That’s— that’s not what you just said Dorian.”