[ S E R A P H I N E ]The sun's up. Rubbing sleep out of my eyes, I squint at the light filtering through the curtains and giving the room a soft glow. My new bedroom. It's much bigger than the one in my apartment. The furniture looks brand new, too. Every corner is still unfamiliar, and I'm not sure how long I'm gonna be staying here. Until Dominico thinks it's time for me to stop freeloading off of him?This house is bigger than the property he sold in Genoa, and it's his first one here in Florence. I don't know the exact amount he paid for this property, but this certainly doesn't look cheaper than his old house.It's got three bedrooms, two indoor bathrooms, and one by the pool. The backyard is wide and nice, as well as the patio. Three large vehicles can fit in the garage. His older stuff and some of his gym equipment are in there. Pushing aside the covers, I get out of bed and make my way downstairs with careful steps. The muted noises coming from the kitchen tell me he's awak
[ S E R A P H I N E ] Where the heck is it? It's not in any of his bags. Not in his briefcase, either. Did he bring his laptop with him? I need to check something on his computer. I need a distraction. Something to occupy my mind. Ease the knots of tension taking root in my chest. Even my shoulders feel heavy. Sighing to myself, I stand beside his windows. The cloudy skies match the somber feeling in the entire house, and I keep imagining Dominico with his family at the cemetery. Is he okay? Is he crying? Finally realizing he just lost a loving father figure? Or is he and his dad having another fight? Crap. I hope not. I can't keep worrying about him every time he's not here or anywhere near me. I'll go insane and end up in a nuthouse. Busying myself with some general cleaning isn't working. I've scrubbed the kitchen and dining room clean, and then vacuumed all the three bedrooms. My body's tired, but my brain is still on high alert. I rummage through his drawers and closets,
[ D O M I N I C O ] The service is over. Finally. Everyone's walking away from the grave and the endless rows of flowers. Except Pappa and Leandro. They're putting on another show. Convincing the audience that they're mourning Zio Luciano's death just like the rest of us. What people don't know is, deep inside, the tight-knit duo's wallowing in their success. They're probably already planning the biggest party of the year. Somewhere in the tropics, I imagine. I'm sitting behind the wheel, alone in the car with Enzo. My chest is heavy with unspoken questions and grief, but I'm trying to look the opposite. I'm only here to pay my respects. The last thing I want is to draw any more attention to myself.“You good?” I squint at the purplish and bluish spots on Enzo's nose and cheek. I can sense his real emotions brewing. Much like the tension stirring beneath the surface. The purple bruises on his face and his blank gaze on the dashboard say enough about his mental state. Although he'
[ D O M I N I C O ] Why isn't she answering? It's been two hours. I've been trying to call her since Enzo and I left the cemetery. So far, still no texts, no callbacks, no emails from her. She didn't even bother telling me she's going somewhere. Waiting for my static inbox to move, I peel myself off the sofa and stand behind Enzo. We're one action flick down and two glasses away from finishing the bottle of red wine I rescued from the fridge. “So? Where's your wife?” Enzo's loud voice and grumpy tone only amplify the tension in my shoulders. “At the mall, prolly.” I pace behind the couch, my eyes glued to my phone. Worry is starting to consume my mind. I dial Seraphine's number again. Still no answer. Paolo hasn't called me back, either. The fuck is happening? Are they on a secret dinner date or something? They'd better not be making out on some gondola, or anywhere else. I ring his other phone number, the knots in my stomach only doubling by the minute. “Paolo,” I say the s
[ S E R A P H I N E ] Game over. Barely three hours later, my not-so-original escape plan's all ruined. The dickhead I unfortunately have to refer to as "my husband" just found me. Of course he would. I don't know how, but, I already felt his presence before I even saw his face. Ugh. How did he know I'm in here? In this hotel? A hunch? Or should I blame his bodyguards? Wearing no tie and a tailored black two-piece suit, he stands beside his straight-faced security staff right outside the glass doors. Their eyes are busy scanning the surroundings, as if they're waiting for some gun-slinging strangers to disrupt this unwanted reunion. The lobby isn't empty, but not crowded, either. Darn it. There's no way I can outrun any of them now, especially with all this stuff in my bag. I roll my eyes when he struts in through the glass doors without even pausing for the security check. Like he owns this place. The asshat looks like he just left an important board meeting — not the most ta
[ S E R A P H I N E ]Crap. I can't believe he just said that. What for? To discourage me? Scare me? Convince me that he wanted me to move in because he wants to turn this fake marriage into something more? Something real, serious, and permanent? Bullshit. The truth is, he's trying to convince himself that he wants and needs this relationship to work out. There's no way he actually wants me to be his new wife. Nor is he eager to marry and start a family with someone he just met a few months ago.I don't know where to go. Where to hide. If I try to leave again, he's gonna tell his bodyguards to stalk me. Like I'm some prey that can't ever escape this cage. A voiceless, helpless prisoner who can't ever say no to him.Sighing to myself, I glance at the locked door. I'm back in the room I slept in last night. Alone. Tired. A little hungry. I should be starving, but my appetite's been iffy these past couple of weeks.I pace around the room. The lights stay dim. Everything's the same. I g
[ S E R A P H I N E ]It's almost ten. Enzo just left. Before walking out the front door, he told me to forgive his cousin and trust Dominico more. He's convinced that Dominico only wants to keep me safe. Hence his decision to make me live with him. To make me pretend we're legally married. Maybe Dominico thinks being his wife will be enough to protect me from his father and Ignazio's accomplices? When Dominico was in the living room, he sounded busy on the phone. I think he was talking to his father at one point, while Enzo and I were eating dinner alone in the dining room. Instead of getting more annoyed for not having much privacy, I'm actually thankful that we had a guest. Another person I could talk to. I'm not quite ready to confront Dominico again, too bewildered by how our conversation in the garage ended. Having Enzo around more often will be enough of a buffer the rest of the week. I'm trying to act like nothing happened, like I didn't just bolt and tried to leave the
[ S E R A P H I N E ]A month flies by in a blur. Dominico and I revised the terms of our arrangement weeks ago. The negotiations took a while, and it wasn't easy. But what we have now is a better setup than him paying the bills and putting food on the table while I pretend I'm his stay-at-home trophy wife.When he asked me to stay here in Florence, I said yes. Out of worry, mainly. This property is hours away from Genoa and belongs in a relatively quiet neighborhood, but it's not enough to ensure our safety. I'm still living here in his house for free. In return, I do the chores like cooking and cleaning most days of the week. Usually after my classes. The least I could do for his generosity and encouragement. We hang out more often now, except when I'm at school or he's at work. But our sleeping arrangements haven't changed. Dominico and I still have separate rooms. I don't think he'll try to change my mind about it anytime soon. This weekend, though, we're gonna be sleeping in t