[ S E R A P H I N E ] “Ti serve una mano?” [Do you need help?]“No.” I give Paolo a smile and put down the last box, the second biggest one containing my shoes and some old paperbacks. “Grazie ancora.” [Thanks again.]“Prego. Vado.” [Welcome. I'll head out.] “Molto grazie, Pao.” [Thanks a lot.]“Chiamami se ti serve qualcosa.” [Call me if you need anything.] Still in his black shirt and jeans, Paolo waves at me briefly and walks down the stairs, probably about to dispose of the boxes in the kitchen the movers forgot to throw out. Half an hour later, I'm still organizing my clothes and books into Dominico's old closet and wooden shelf. I still have a few more boxes in the corner to unpack. But tonight's not gonna be another sleepless night. It also helps that this place isn't far from the country club. Like Dominico said, it's not even a half-hour drive. 45 minutes if traffic's bad. Although I know he's busy with work, I still feel kinda disappointed that he didn't show up for
[ S E R A P H I N E ]“Is it good?”“This one tastes better on a hot day. But I still want you to cook this for me every week.”I look up from my phone and stare at the guy sitting across from me. I give him a close-lipped smile the moment I see his empty plate. It looks like he wiped it clean, unlike mine. I'm not on a diet, though.He's just built different. Aside from being ten inches taller than me, Dominico weighs twice my weight, too.“Duly noted, Sir,” I retort as he reclines with his forearms on the table. Like the living room and the rest of the apartment, it's not too bright in here, which I prefer. I didn't turn on all of the lights because I don't want him to worry again. I still look paler than printing paper. I didn't bother to put on any makeup 'cause I didn't want him to wait another five minutes. Or make him think I'm trying to look cute for him.“I'm dead serious.”“Sure.” I shrug weakly and check my notifications again. Still nothing from Angelo. Of course. Ugh. “Wh
[ S E R A P H I N E ]As big clouds dim the afternoon sky, I check the time on the desktop screen. It's almost six in the evening, and the lobby has become quiet again. No new cars parking in the lot. No new guests approaching. I can take my 15-minute breather now. “Finally.” Hidden in my skirt's pocket, my phone buzzes once more on my thigh as I walk out of the lobby. Just another text from Dominico. I'm sure.Angelo normally doesn't text me at this hour. Dom's text can wait. If it's an emergency, he will call. Same goes for my parents.“It's nothing urgent. It can wait,” I tell myself as I rub my eyes and my warm temples. Dull throbs indicate a bitching headache later. Maybe because I barely got five hours of sleep. But it's not Dominico's fault. The guy left before midnight. Neither did he encourage me to overthink my way into another anxiety attack. It's my fault. I chose to do the things I did last night. Not just the hug I gave him before he left. That was the only wholesome
[ S E R A P H I N E ]At 6:45, my concentration gets shattered when Dominico shows up at the entrance and strides in with his stepmom.The ever-gorgeous Mrs. Tomassini. Like always, she's wearing expensive-looking clothes that show off her slim and athletic body, exuding class and sophistication with every step. Her ensemble this evening is a pair of leggings and a black racerback sports bra. They match her trainers, as well as her shiny brown hair bound by a high ponytail.I put on my best smile the second we make eye contact. The receptionist desk hides me from the chest down to my high heels, but I'm pretty sure she remembers my face.Behind her, clad in a dark suit and white shirt, Dominico focuses on his phone and looks like he just got out of the office. Tentative steps and a frown make him look a tad uncomfortable. I feel like a deer caught in headlights. Right now I want to pull him to the side, confront him and punch him in the throat before his stepmom can strike up a conve
[ D O M I N I C O ]So this is her on a bad day. I bet she's itching to tell me to get lost. And not in a nice way this time. My fiancée wants me out of here. As far away from her as possible. She thinks I'm just a pain in her neck, and I get it. No woman in her right mind would hang around me for more than five minutes. Unless they need something from me. Or they want something from my family and their handy, mostly shady connections. I'm sitting in this plush couch alone with my buzzing phone. Tired. Restless. Covered in sweat. I sigh and unbutton the front of my shirt. This humidity is fucking distracting. But still not as much as she distracts me. She doesn't even have to do anything. Merely existing in my peripheral vision is enough to throw me off my game.I bite back the urge to swear while my pretend girlfriend leans on the front desk, tirelessly greeting clients with a smile that could end wars. Wait. Shit. We're not boyfriend-girlfriend anymore. People think we're get
[ S E R A P H I N E ] Darn. It's past my bedtime. I'm stupidly waiting up for a phone call that isn't coming. I'm back on morning shift tomorrow, but my mind's still a mess. A putrid wasteyard filled with unwanted memories and equally vexing presumptions. Like the past couple of nights, sleep eludes me as my brain wrestles with the unknowns. I'm all alone again here in Dominico's old room, here in his old apartment, staring at the windows I've left open. The night feels warmer than I expected. There's a hint of his scent in the air, but maybe it's just the clothes he left in the closet. I grab my phone on the nightstand and check my notifications again, half-expecting a new message from Angelo. But there's nothing from him. I groan. A sigh of exhaustion comes out of me instead. I lie on my back and shut my eyes. “Stop it. He's just not that into you. Stop deluding yourself.” I yank my pink wig off my head and toss it on the thick covers. It's beyond unsettling... This
[ D O M I N I C O ]The exhaustion lingers. But it won't let me fucking sleep. Not that it's anything new. “Shit.” I fist the edge of the pillow under my throbbing head, forcing my eyes to stay closed. The pills haven't kicked in. I don't know if I'll ever be able to reset my sleep cycle with all the shit that's been going on. But it's not what bothers me most. It's her. Just her. It's becoming a problem. Separating my fantasies from our reality. That phone call is still gnawing on my brain. Relentlessly eating at the peace I'm trying to regain. I just can't get her soft, beautiful voice out of my head. That was not the conversation I wanted us to have. I didn't plan on riling her up like that. That was fucking stupid. Immature. Unnecessary. “Way to go.” I slap my forehead over and over until it stings. I don't think she realizes how much our agreement has changed the dynamic between us. It's only been weeks since we met, but, it's happening. It's brewing. And it's not going awa
[ S E R A P H I N E ] Wow. Just wow. I don't know why I believed him when he said this is “just another fancy house”. This isn't a house! This place is the definition of grand. Huge. Imposing in every way. The first mansion I've been invited to. And not one room disappoints. The cream and gold color scheme reminds me of a modern castle, and knowing Mrs. Tomassini's impeccable taste, I'm sure just the furniture in here cost them at least a million euros. I hide a frown when she tells me there are eight bedrooms and seven bathrooms, excluding the maid's quarters by the poolside. They don't have any kids. Who's using all those spare rooms? Because I'm sure Dominico isn't. Just minutes ago he said he rarely sleeps here. We're surrounded by luxury and big, gorgeous artworks, but he doesn't look the least bit impressed. I mean, I get it. This is his childhood home, after all. I don't think any of this is new to him. But I don't doubt his stepmom. The garage alone looks bigger than my