Seraphina's POV
I woke up to the scent of the ocean, salt and something deeply unfamiliar—the smell of someone else's home. If wishes were granted the moment they were made, this would have been a dream and I'd have been in London, with my students. My body ached, a dull throb lingering in my wrists where Rafael had gripped me the a few days ago. The weight of exhaustion pressed down on my chest, but I knew lying in bed wouldn’t do me any good.
I wasn’t safe here. My father had to come for me.
The thought sent a sharp wave of nausea through me. He had sworn—sworn—on my mother’s grave that he would never pull me back into his world, but his word meant nothing now. Not when Rafael DeLuca had me trapped under his roof, under his control.
I sat up, my limbs stiff as I scanned the dimly lit room. It was far too luxurious compared to what I’ve lived with—a soft mattress, silk sheets, an antique chandelier casting golden light across the walls. It wasn’t a prison, but it wasn’t freedom either.
A quiet knock startled me.
“Come in,” I called, my voice hoarse.
The door swung open, and a woman stepped in, her presence so vibrant it was almost jarring. She had long, dark curls and an easy smile that immediately softened the tension coiled in my stomach.
“You must be Seraphina,” she said, her voice light and warm. “I’m Lilliana. Rafael’s sister.”
I blinked. She looked nothing like him. There was no sharp edge to her, no coldness. Where Rafael was all shadows and quiet menace, she was golden warmth.
“I—I didn’t know he had a sister.”
She grinned, stepping forward with the grace of someone who had never feared a single thing in her life. “I get that a lot. He doesn’t exactly advertise my existence.” Her eyes raked over me, assessing. “You look like you need food. Breakfast is ready.”
I hesitated, my stomach twisting. Was this some kind of trick?
As if sensing my reluctance, she sighed dramatically. “Trust me, if I was planning to poison you, I’d be a little more subtle about it.” She winked, as if that was supposed to reassure me. “Come on, I promise no one’s going to bite, except Rafael and I'm here for a reason.”
I highly doubted that she could ‘control’ her rabid dog of a brother; however, I followed her anyway, because the alternative was staying locked in this room, drowning in my own thoughts.
The dining hall was massive—high ceilings, grand windows that let in the morning sun, and a table so long it could probably seat twenty people. A few seats were already occupied.
At the head of the table sat Rafael, his presence commanding even in silence. His dark eyes flicked toward me as I entered, and for a second, something unreadable passed through them.
Then it was gone.
On his right sat a man I hadn’t seen before. He carried the same quiet authority as Rafael, but there was something different about him—less ice, more indifference. Where Rafael’s stare was a promise of destruction, Luka’s was merely watchful, as if he was waiting to see whether I was worth his time.
“This is Luka,” Lilliana chirped, sliding into a chair beside him. “Rafe’s best friend, business partner, all-around menace to society.”
Luka shot her a look, unimpressed. “You talk too much.”
“And you brood too much,” she shot back at him almost immediately.
I stayed quiet, taking a cautious seat at the farthest end of the table, away from Rafael. My hands curled into my lap, nerves buzzing beneath my skin.
Lilliana reached for a plate of croissants, completely at ease in the thick tension filling the room. “So, Seraphina,” she said, as if we were just a group of old friends having a casual meal. “How did you and my lovely brother meet?”
Rafael’s gaze snapped to her, a warning clear in his expression.
Lilliana just smiled innocently.
Luka, on the other hand, seemed mildly entertained by the tension crackling between us. He leaned back in his chair, watching me.
I swallowed hard, unsure how to answer. “It’s complicated.”
“That’s an understatement,” Luka muttered, reaching for his coffee.
Lilliana gasped. “Did he kidnap you?”
I nearly choked on air.
Rafael sighed, rubbing his temple as if he were seconds away from throwing his sister out of the room.
“Lilliana,” he warned.
She raised her hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. No prying.”
The conversation died after that.
I stared at my plate, appetite nonexistent. I could feel Rafael’s gaze on me, but I refused to look at him.
“Eat,” he ordered.
I bristled at the command, my fingers tightening around my fork.
Luka smirked. “You really know how to charm a woman, Rafe.”
“Shut up, Luka.” Rafael snapped, his jaw ticking like a bomb.
Luka chuckled but said nothing else.
Lilliana, ever the peacekeeper, nudged my plate toward me. “Don’t let them ruin your meal.” Her voice was softer now, less teasing. “Eat. You’ll need your strength.”
I hesitated, but after a moment, I forced myself to take a bite.
The food was good, too good. It felt wrong to enjoy something in this place, in this situation.I swallowed hard, my mind racing.
I had to get out of here but the food is so nice. Nobody makes spaghetti bolognese this well, not even my aunt. Rafael might have me trapped for now, but the only thing stopping me from leaving isn't the food but the fact that I do not know how to fight.
__–__
The house—no, mansion—was overwhelming. Every hallway stretched endlessly, lined with artwork that probably cost more than my entire existence. I moved without thinking, my feet carrying me through corridors, past towering windows that bathed the floors in morning light. The place was eerily quiet, except for the occasional staff members who quickly averted their gazes when they saw me.
Well, not all of them.
The moment I stepped into a broader hallway, the whispers started.
"That’s her. The one Rafe brought in."
"You think she’s another one of his playthings?"
"Look at her, acting like she belongs here."
"God, what a desperate little slut."
I stiffened. I didn’t stop walking, neither did I turn to face them. However, the words clung to me like oil, thick and suffocating. I could feel their stares—curious, judgmental, cruel. The women were the worst, their eyes filled with disgust as they watched me like I was some kind of parasite leeching off Rafael.
I clenched my fists.
If they thought they could shame me into curling up and disappearing, they had another thing coming. I didn't want to be here and their snide remarks is the least of my worries. I turned a corner and wandered deeper into the mansion, moving until the voices faded into nothing. Then, the scent of spices and something buttery hit me: The kitchen.
I stepped into the massive kitchen without hesitation. It was warm, the air thick with the scent of fresh bread and sizzling meat. Chefs moved around with sharp precision, working like a well-oiled machine. At the center of it all was a man with broad shoulders, his back turned to me as he plated something with practiced ease.
I barely had time to take another step before a sharp voice cut through the noise.
“You lost, princess?”
I turned to see the head chef, a man in his late thirties with dark hair and an expression that screamed I don’t have time for this bullshit. His name tag read Adrian.
I raised a brow. “No. Just exploring.”
His eyes flicked over me, unimpressed. “This isn’t a tourist attraction. Get out.”
I crossed my arms. “Wow. Such hospitality.”
He huffed. “We don’t do hospitality in the kitchen. We do food. You in that way?”
I tilted my head, feigning thoughtfulness. “Nope.”
“Then scram.”
I smirked. “What if I’m here for a job? Maybe I make the best grilled cheese in the world.”
For the first time, he looked at me like I had somewhat of a brain. “You cook?”
“Enough to not starve.”
Adrian snorted. “That’s a low bar.”
“Yeah, well, so is your attitude.”
Silence.
Then, to my surprise, he barked out a laugh. A real one.
“Huh,” he mused. “Didn’t expect you to have bite.”
I shrugged. “What can I say? I adapt.”
Adrian studied me for a moment, then, without a word, grabbed a small bowl from the counter and shoved it into my hands.
Spring rolls.
I blinked. “Are these poisoned?”
His lips twitched. “Eat and find out. Maybe youd die before you get to see your Father.”
I popped one into my mouth, the crispy shell giving way to a deliciously seasoned filling.
Adrian watched me chew, arms crossed. “Well?”
I swallowed. “Not bad, I didn't die. Maybe a little more chili next time.”
His brows shot up, as if I’d just insulted his entire bloodline.
“More chili?”
“Yeah. Are you scared of spice?”
He scoffed. “You’ve got the nerve, princess.”
I grinned. “So I’ve been told.”
For the first time since arriving, I felt something close to normalcy although I was desperate to return to my own normal life.
Then, of course, he had to ruin it, like he ruins everything his harsh hands touch. The kitchen doors swung open with force and only one person would terrify the entire staff.
“What the heck are you doing here?”
Chapter 4Seraphina's POVI didn’t have to turn around to know it was him. His voice alone was word: the command, the highest authority in the DeLuca mansion. The entire kitchen froze. Adrian straightened slightly, his posture losing its casual edge. The other chefs avoided looking directly at Rafael, suddenly very interested in their tasks.I, on the other hand, kept chewing my spring roll. Rafael’s footsteps were slow, deliberate, predatory. Then he was beside me. I turned my head just enough to meet his gaze. His expression was blank, but his eyes—dark and unreadable—were locked onto me like I was something he needed to fix, or destroy, or both. I swallowed my food, unbothered.“Want one?” I offered the bowl of spring rolls to him however he didn’t move, neither did he act like I existed. Instead, his voice came out low.“You are not a guest here, Seraphina.”The weight of his presence pressed down on me, suffocating and possessive.“You don’t get to wander around like you own the
Seraphina's POVThe mansion was quiet, too quiet. Like the whole bullet spraying did not just happen a few hours ago. However the air was heavy—thick with something unseen, carrying a certain energy. I was heading back to my room when I heard his voice. Rafael. I should’ve kept walking. I should’ve. But something about his tone made my steps halt. I leaned against the doorframe, careful to stay hidden.“…Dante already made his move. He must really love the girl.”My stomach dropped. My father had something to do with the sporadic gunshots earlier. He launched an attack on the biggest mafia in Italy. The realization hit me hard. I clutched my chest, trying to steady my breathing. My father had sent men to shoot up the mansion for me. A part of me had hoped he would come for me. That he wouldn’t just let this happen.But what if someone had died? What if I had died? I swallowed, turned, and left before I could hear anything else.I slammed my door shut and threw myself onto the bed. Th
Seraphina's POV "Significant other?" The words hung in the air between us, sharp and impossible. "What the hell are you talking about?" Rafael's smirk widened, satisfaction gleaming in his dark eyes. He pocketed his phone and the gun with casual ease, as if he hadn't just threatened my life seconds ago. "Your father and I have come to an... arrangement." My stomach dropped. The way he said "arrangement" made my skin crawl. I backed away until my legs hit the edge of the bed. "What kind of arrangement?" Rafael moved to the window, pulling back the curtain to gaze out at the grounds. The evening moon cast half his face in shadow, making him look more dangerous than usual. "Dante Moreau is many things," he said, his voice deceptively calm. "But above all, he's a businessman. And when faced with losing everything..." He turned to me, his eyes cold. "Even he knows when to make a deal." "Stop talking in riddles," I snapped. My patience had evaporated. "Tell me what's happening." H
Seraphina's POVThe final note lingered in the air, delicate yet powerful, the last whisper of a story told through my fingertips to the crowd. My hands rested on the piano keys, my chest rising and falling as the thunderous applause filled the concert hall. I was content.I stood, offering a small bow, my face carefully composed despite the rush of emotions beneath my skin. This was my world now—music, art, creation. Not the shadows I was born into.I stepped off the stage, my black satin dress flowing with each movement, and made my way toward the side exit for a breath of fresh air. The look in the eyes of the people I came across gladdened my heart. They looked like they were proud of me, like I was a star. The air outside was crisp, a contrast to the warmth of the hall, and I let out a slow exhale, the tension melting from my shoulders.Tonight had been perfect. Almost surreal.As I leaned against the cool stone wall, my phone buzzed in my clutch. A message from Ava, one of my yo
Seraphina's POVI didn't flinch when his fingers brushed my jaw, but it took everything in me to stay still. To not let him see the way my skin crawled under his touch.Raphael Deluca, I'd be stupid if I claimed I didn't know that name.Every whisper of his empire, every bloody rumor attached to it-it all came crashing into my mind like a violent wave. My father's sworn enemy. The man who ruled the underworld with an iron grip, and now, the man who had me trapped in his grasp.My heart pounded, but I forced my expression to remain blank. "If you think you can use me against my father, you're wasting your time."His lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. More like a predator baring its teeth. "Oh, I disagree. See, Dante Moreau may have let you go, however, you are his flesh and blood. He won't let you rot in my hands, no matter how far you've tried to run."I swallowed hard, my stomach twisting. He was not wrong. My father would come for me and that's what I feared: he w
Seraphina's POV "Significant other?" The words hung in the air between us, sharp and impossible. "What the hell are you talking about?" Rafael's smirk widened, satisfaction gleaming in his dark eyes. He pocketed his phone and the gun with casual ease, as if he hadn't just threatened my life seconds ago. "Your father and I have come to an... arrangement." My stomach dropped. The way he said "arrangement" made my skin crawl. I backed away until my legs hit the edge of the bed. "What kind of arrangement?" Rafael moved to the window, pulling back the curtain to gaze out at the grounds. The evening moon cast half his face in shadow, making him look more dangerous than usual. "Dante Moreau is many things," he said, his voice deceptively calm. "But above all, he's a businessman. And when faced with losing everything..." He turned to me, his eyes cold. "Even he knows when to make a deal." "Stop talking in riddles," I snapped. My patience had evaporated. "Tell me what's happening." H
Seraphina's POVThe mansion was quiet, too quiet. Like the whole bullet spraying did not just happen a few hours ago. However the air was heavy—thick with something unseen, carrying a certain energy. I was heading back to my room when I heard his voice. Rafael. I should’ve kept walking. I should’ve. But something about his tone made my steps halt. I leaned against the doorframe, careful to stay hidden.“…Dante already made his move. He must really love the girl.”My stomach dropped. My father had something to do with the sporadic gunshots earlier. He launched an attack on the biggest mafia in Italy. The realization hit me hard. I clutched my chest, trying to steady my breathing. My father had sent men to shoot up the mansion for me. A part of me had hoped he would come for me. That he wouldn’t just let this happen.But what if someone had died? What if I had died? I swallowed, turned, and left before I could hear anything else.I slammed my door shut and threw myself onto the bed. Th
Chapter 4Seraphina's POVI didn’t have to turn around to know it was him. His voice alone was word: the command, the highest authority in the DeLuca mansion. The entire kitchen froze. Adrian straightened slightly, his posture losing its casual edge. The other chefs avoided looking directly at Rafael, suddenly very interested in their tasks.I, on the other hand, kept chewing my spring roll. Rafael’s footsteps were slow, deliberate, predatory. Then he was beside me. I turned my head just enough to meet his gaze. His expression was blank, but his eyes—dark and unreadable—were locked onto me like I was something he needed to fix, or destroy, or both. I swallowed my food, unbothered.“Want one?” I offered the bowl of spring rolls to him however he didn’t move, neither did he act like I existed. Instead, his voice came out low.“You are not a guest here, Seraphina.”The weight of his presence pressed down on me, suffocating and possessive.“You don’t get to wander around like you own the
Seraphina's POVI woke up to the scent of the ocean, salt and something deeply unfamiliar—the smell of someone else's home. If wishes were granted the moment they were made, this would have been a dream and I'd have been in London, with my students. My body ached, a dull throb lingering in my wrists where Rafael had gripped me the a few days ago. The weight of exhaustion pressed down on my chest, but I knew lying in bed wouldn’t do me any good.I wasn’t safe here. My father had to come for me.The thought sent a sharp wave of nausea through me. He had sworn—sworn—on my mother’s grave that he would never pull me back into his world, but his word meant nothing now. Not when Rafael DeLuca had me trapped under his roof, under his control.I sat up, my limbs stiff as I scanned the dimly lit room. It was far too luxurious compared to what I’ve lived with—a soft mattress, silk sheets, an antique chandelier casting golden light across the walls. It wasn’t a prison, but it wasn’t freedom eit
Seraphina's POVI didn't flinch when his fingers brushed my jaw, but it took everything in me to stay still. To not let him see the way my skin crawled under his touch.Raphael Deluca, I'd be stupid if I claimed I didn't know that name.Every whisper of his empire, every bloody rumor attached to it-it all came crashing into my mind like a violent wave. My father's sworn enemy. The man who ruled the underworld with an iron grip, and now, the man who had me trapped in his grasp.My heart pounded, but I forced my expression to remain blank. "If you think you can use me against my father, you're wasting your time."His lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. More like a predator baring its teeth. "Oh, I disagree. See, Dante Moreau may have let you go, however, you are his flesh and blood. He won't let you rot in my hands, no matter how far you've tried to run."I swallowed hard, my stomach twisting. He was not wrong. My father would come for me and that's what I feared: he w
Seraphina's POVThe final note lingered in the air, delicate yet powerful, the last whisper of a story told through my fingertips to the crowd. My hands rested on the piano keys, my chest rising and falling as the thunderous applause filled the concert hall. I was content.I stood, offering a small bow, my face carefully composed despite the rush of emotions beneath my skin. This was my world now—music, art, creation. Not the shadows I was born into.I stepped off the stage, my black satin dress flowing with each movement, and made my way toward the side exit for a breath of fresh air. The look in the eyes of the people I came across gladdened my heart. They looked like they were proud of me, like I was a star. The air outside was crisp, a contrast to the warmth of the hall, and I let out a slow exhale, the tension melting from my shoulders.Tonight had been perfect. Almost surreal.As I leaned against the cool stone wall, my phone buzzed in my clutch. A message from Ava, one of my yo