[ S E R A P H I N E ]It's been a few days since that yacht party. I hope he's not pissed that I'm showing up an hour late. Where is he? Why does he want us to meet here? This looks like a high-end jewelry shop. The gilded doors alone look like they cost more than everything I own. I stand outside the shop, the late afternoon sun bathing the quaint store in a warm glow. I'm waiting for my phone to ring while peeking at the sparkling displays of gemstones and metals. Maybe he chose this place since it's near the country club. It doesn't look crowded inside. Only four people are browsing the impressive selection of bespoke jewelry, but I still don't want to go inside by myself.I can't seem to get rid of the tension inside me. Can't just walk it off or sit it out like a random tummy ache. I hold my breath when my phone dings with a new message from Dominico, asking me if I'm nearby. I reply with a short text: [ I'm outside the store. White shirt. ]Clasping my satchel, I watch the cu
[ S E R A P H I N E ] Long shadows dim our path as we exit the store, the sun dipping lower in the sky. The warmth of the evening feels nice, unlike the terrifying reality his suspicions are forcing me to wrap my head around. We walk away from the picturesque sidewalk with Dominico glancing over his shoulder. Before we reach the Maserati, he looks behind one more time and puts his arm around my back. Like he's waiting for some sketchy guys to pop up out of nowhere and kidnap me. Just thinking it could happen makes my insides churn. My legs and feet are overworked after that ten-hour shift, but my brain can't seem to process most of the pain. I just know I need a quiet, private space where I can regroup my thoughts before we go anywhere else. “Hey. I-I really don't mind taking the bus. You don't have to drive me to the...”“Stay close.”“Why?” I almost glare at my “date” and stand beside his ride. Should I give him gas money now? Or just let him escort me all evening like a hired bo
[ S E R A P H I N E ]“Are you home?”“Just got home.”“Oh. Okay.” So his house is only an hour away from here. Is he still alone? Parking the Maserati in his garage? How many cars does he own? A trust fund kid like him probably has a few luxury cars at the very least. “D'you need something?” His voice sounds slightly hoarse, his tone laced with concern.“A whole day just for sleeping. A two-week paid vacation.”“Why're you still up? I told you to rest.”Lying on my back with the lights off, I smile at the concern behind his short semi-rant. I'm already in my room, all showered and about to doze off. Yet I can't stop thinking about him and the things we've talked about. “I'm trying.”Dominico sighs on the other end, as if he's getting annoyed that I called him too soon. “Get off the phone. Turn it off and sleep.” “You're startin' to sound like my dad.” “We're meeting up tomorrow. Can't have you cranky and hating me all day.”Hating him? “Tomorrow? Why?” Are we going on another "dat
[ S E R A P H I N E ]I have 39 minutes left. Where the heck is he? Does he think I have a two-hour lunch break? Maybe a CFO like him does. “Must be nice,” I mutter under my breath. If he doesn't show up in five minutes, I'm heading back to the staff lounge. I don't really want to, but at least it's safer there. Too crowded in case his father tries to corner me and harass me again. Too many witnesses. Too many mouths to silence. The creep might just have second thoughts about trying to cop a feel again.I cringe at the memory. I still remember every second. Some nights, my brain loves to replay those horrible ten seconds as if to remind me that I still have feelings. That I've been wronged. Mistreated. Humiliated. Victimized.But, no. I refuse to feel like a victim. Nope. Not now. Our one and only family business is in the red. About to go bankrupt, in fact, if we don't do something drastic soon. I don't have the luxury of taking a couple days off. To recover. To recharge. To do s
[ S E R A P H I N E ]This ring is gorgeous. Subtle but elegant. Marquise cut. At least one carat, I'm guessing.No doubt it's a real diamond. I've told him to just buy something cheap. Obviously he doesn't want me to wear a fake.I don't know how he actually knows my size. I didn't try any of the rings in that store. Nor do I remember him asking.Shoot. This is actually happening. We're engaged now. Engaged! Jeez... What's gotten into him? A bouquet and a fake proposal in broad daylight? In front of all these people?Is he drunk? No, he can't be. He doesn't look or smell intoxicated. Maybe it's some kind of PTSD or paranoia? Or is he going off the rails? We stare at each other, putting on our best happy-new-couple smiles, ignoring the noise around us while he gets up to stand in front of me again. Dominico steps closer, his gaze unwavering. Almost unnerving. I don't back away or get rid of my smile. I want to, but I can't cry on cue, so... This will have to do. “I can't believe yo
[ S E R A P H I N E ]I think I need to run. Hide. Go somewhere foreign and remote where no one knows a thing about me. Dominico won't say it to my face. But only because he thinks it will trigger a panic attack, or something worse.I don't need him to tell me my suspicions are true. I already know I'm in dire straits. I heard too much that night, and his father knows. Why else would Dominico tell his bodyguard to keep an eye on me?The tub is almost full, though I'm not sure a cold bath will do anything to calm my mind. The sound of the faucet running echoes as I try to silence my thoughts.Next to the white tub, I stretch my neck and back. I wince at the aches in my muscles. It's more or less the cortisol from all the stress. The anxiety. The sleepless nights...A buzzing noise disrupts the silence as I'm untying my robe. I rush to the sink and grab my phone, only to frown at another text from Dominico:[ Call me if you hear or notice anything strange. ]Strange? Like what? A broke
[ S E R A P H I N E ] Nothing makes sense in this unhinged universe anymore. I'm in the passenger seat, buckled up and losing myself, heart pounding as the road blurs before us. My suitcase is in the trunk. It's full of clothes and probably a third of my personal belongings. Dominico's behind the wheel, driving us out of the city. Fico, his bodyguard, is right behind me, sitting alone in the backseat. Paolo is driving the other car. Dominico's matte gray SUV. I don't know where exactly we're going. I just know we're heading northeast. “Dom.” “What?” he says without even glancing my way. “Are we going to Milan?” “No. Trento.” “Trento?” Whoa. That's about four hours away. I've never been there. It's a cold city known for old castles, museums, beautiful mountain peaks and lake views, and for being the third largest Italian city in the Alps. “My friend owns a private property there.” “A house?” “Villa,” Dominico replies flatly. I nod, making guesses in my head as to why he won'
[ S E R A P H I N E ] It's past ten in the morning. I feel shitty. Drained. Battered. I probably look worse. It's viral. I know it. “Go back to sleep. Sleep is good,” I murmur to myself, wiping my runny nose. My skin is feverish especially my neck, armpits, and the insides of my thighs. My stomach feels off. My eyes and tongue feel hot, too. My body's giving up on me, and I feel guilty because it's mostly my fault. I haven't been minding my health the past few months. My diet's been poor, and I haven't been working out. I don't even recall the last time I had a solid eight hours of sleep in a day. No idea how Dominico manages to look that ripped and strong on barely five hours of sleep. It's probably genetics. Or he compulsively works out every single day. I need a copy of his diet plan and workout routine. Stat. “Ugh.” I feel like my eyes got stung by a bee while I was unconscious. My throat aches, too, like the rest of my body. I didn't cry myself to sleep, though. Dominico man