All Chapters of REBORN TO MARRY MY MAFIA ENEMY: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Beatrice’s grudging approval, it turned out, carried more weight within the Voss organization than Seraphina initially realized, opening a door she hadn’t fully anticipated needing to walk through so soon.“There’s a quarterly leadership meeting next week,” Damon explained over breakfast, several days after the dinner at his aunt’s estate. “My senior lieutenants, key advisors, people who’ve been with the family business for years. I’d like you to attend, formally, as my partner in these decisions rather than simply my wife.”Seraphina set down her coffee, surprised by the invitation despite months of gradually increasing involvement in Damon’s business affairs. “Are you certain that’s wise? I imagine some of your people will have opinions about a Kade sitting in on Voss leadership meetings.”“Some will,” Damon admitted. “But you’ve earned a place at that table, Sera. The Vesper conspiracy, the trial, everything we’ve built together since. I’d rather formalize your involvement than con

Damon kept his promise about attending Harrington’s meetings, though Seraphina noticed, over the following weeks, that he approached the sessions less as supervision and more as genuine curiosity, occasionally offering his own logistics insights alongside her strategic proposals.“You’ve got good instincts about which unions will push back hardest,” he observed, during one particularly late Thursday session, watching her navigate a complicated negotiation strategy with Harrington. “That’s not something typically taught in business school.”“I spent six years watching Julian negotiate with people he had no intention of ever treating fairly,” Seraphina said. “I learned quite a lot about human behavior under pressure, even if the lessons came from watching someone I’ve since learned to despise.”“An unfortunate but apparently useful education,” Damon said, something thoughtful entering his expression.That evening, once Harrington had departed and they’d finished packing up the last of t

The fourth morning on the island brought an unexpected rainstorm, gray clouds rolling in from the horizon to trap them indoors, and Seraphina found herself, somewhat to her own surprise, grateful for the excuse to stay curled up on the porch with a cup of tea, watching rain sheet down over the water.“I keep thinking about the painting conversation,” she admitted, as Damon joined her with his own coffee, settling into the chair beside her. “About everything I gave up during those six years, without fully realizing I was giving it up at all.”“What else did you lose,” Damon asked gently, “beyond the painting?”Seraphina considered the question seriously, memory surfacing more readily now that she’d given herself permission to explore it. “I used to read constantly, before Julian. Novels, mostly, entire afternoons lost in stories that had nothing to do with my actual life. He found that frivolous too, said a woman who would eventually run a company should focus her attention on more pra

Damon arrived home three days later with a large, carefully wrapped package that he set on the study’s table with obvious anticipation, watching Seraphina’s face as she unwrapped it.Inside, a complete set of professional watercolor supplies, brushes in every size, high quality paper, pigments in a range of colors that made her breath catch slightly at the thoughtfulness behind the gift.“Damon, this is far too much.”“It’s exactly enough,” Damon corrected gently. “I asked the shop owner for whatever a serious painter might actually need, rather than simply a beginner’s starter kit. I wanted you to have proper tools, if you’re serious about picking this back up.”Seraphina studied the supplies with a mixture of excitement and nervousness she hadn’t quite expected. “I haven’t painted anything in nearly seven years. I don’t know if I even remember how anymore.”“Then we find out together,” Damon said. “No pressure, no expectations. Simply see what happens when you finally allow yourself

Seraphina hadn’t visited Malcolm in nearly two months, her last conversation with him lingering uncomfortably at the edge of her thoughts more often than she cared to admit, and she found herself, on a quiet Tuesday morning, finally deciding it was time to face whatever remained unresolved between them.“Do you want me to come with you,” Damon asked, watching her prepare for the visit with obvious concern.“No,” Seraphina said, after a moment’s consideration. “I think this is something I need to face on my own. But thank you for offering.”The prison facility looked exactly as she remembered it, sterile and impersonal despite the relatively humane conditions Damon had insisted upon when arranging Malcolm’s placement years earlier. Malcolm himself looked older than she remembered, grayer, though his posture carried a certain settled calm she hadn’t witnessed during her previous visits.“Sera.” His expression carried careful hope rather than presumption, clearly aware of how tentatively