[ S E R A P H I N E ] How long is the surgery supposed to take? An hour? A few hours? I need some answers. Some reassurance. I mean, we both do. We didn't even get to see her upclose. We're not allowed in the ICU due to the isolation protocols. “Please be okay. Please. Please get better,” I whisper to myself, imagining the woman staying unconscious on the operating table. I only saw her graying short hair, barely half of her pale face, some wires, and the tubes stuck to her lean arms and torso. The head surgeon and ICU staff rushed Dominico's mother to the OR about half an hour ago without even waiting for him to give the go-ahead. I hope they're doing everything they can to improve her condition. I stand closer to Dom as the white walls seem to close in around us. We're both wearing masks, still here in Montreal, kinda stuck in this busy hallway. Just waiting. Trying to stay patient. Masked up nurses and doctors pass by without paying us any mind, their hurried steps f
[ S E R A P H I N E ]Wait for him? Why? The way he said it curdles my gut with apprehension. More anxious, bothersome feelings I don't need. “Take your time. I'll be in the kitchen, cleaning,” I say casually before leaving the bathroom. I don't wait for him to finish his shower. Gripping my phone to my chest, I practically run down the stairs. For the next ten minutes, all I do is distract myself from thinking of him naked in bed with me. I scrub his mom's kitchen sink clean. Then her countertops. The cupboards. The dusty top of her fridge. Soaping, rinsing, and drying the oil-stained stove and walls take a little longer. But it's fine. It's a good enough distraction. I have to stop imagining him being intimate with me. It's useless. Darn. My brain needs a full reset in that area. Right freaking now. I should be reading my new textbooks. Concentrating. Studying hard for another exam. Doing everything I can to keep my grades up. Not pondering the possibility of getting laid an
[ S E R A P H I N E ] I feel like someone just poured a ton of bricks all over me. I glance around, half-expecting Dominico to appear by the stairs any second, my heart pumping more blood and faster. I don't like how quiet and dark the rest of this house is, including the front yard. “How did you find out?” I feign a calm, almost robotic voice. Did Alina talk to Ignazio before he got arrested? “Arabella. Remember her?” Alina mutters on the other line. “Yeah.” Arabella, her 20-something blonde Italian friend. “She was in housekeeping.” “Messaged me out of nowhere. Her fiancé’s an inspector. He told her about San Pietro.” Alina’s voice wavers. “Oh. Makes sense.” “Hey. You sure about coming back here?” Coming back to Italy? “What d'you mean?” “I don't... I think, you and Dominico should stay there. For the meantime. Like a month or two. Or just stay there for good.” “Here in Canada? No. I-I don't think that's gonna work.” I shake my head as if she could see me right
[ S E R A P H I N E ]The sky hangs low. It's windy today. A thick blanket of gray clouds cast a somber hue over the private cemetery. It's a spacious graveyard, one of the biggest here in Montreal. We're here with Dom's cousins and their families. The kids are running around, giggling and playing with bubbles and some of the flowers. The way they look so happy and carefree tugs at my heartstrings. Dominico’s cousins gather around the grave with flowers in their hands, their faces etched with grief. My chest slightly aches every time I steal glances at him. Not a single tear on his stoic face. I don't need him to take off his sunglasses. I just know his eyes are distant, and despite being only inches away from him, I feel the gap between us. We haven't really talked all day. Yesterday, too.“God, our shelter and our strength, You listen in love to the cry of Your people: hear the prayers we offer for our departed brothers and sisters, especially Dominique Deschanel. Cleanse them o
× WARNING! GRAPHIC NSFW CONTENT BELOW INTENDED FOR MATURE READERS ONLY ×[ S E R A P H I N E ]I taste something bitter in my mouth, and something tells me to put a stop to this now. But I keep still and don't say anything. I cup his tan, scruffy face and pull his head closer to mine.“No bullshit. I'm gonna go insane.”Why does he think I'll leave him? Because of Pierre? Does it really look like I'm still in love with my ex?“Stop. I'm not going anywhere.” My chest aches at the sight of his shiny eyes. “I'm not leaving.” I wipe the tears off his cheeks and pepper his warm cheeks with soft, careful kisses. Dom snivels and looks away, but he rests his hand on my thigh and lets me smooth back some of his disheveled hair. A quiet moment passes. Like his stare, his hands and leg keep me close to his warm and stiff body. The courage I'm trying to prolong almost ebbs away when he doesn't stop staring. I almost back off when something changes in the way he watches me. The look in h
[ D O M I N I C O ] Something's pounding my head. From the inside. And it won't fucking stop. The sheets feel unfamiliar. I groan and swat the blanket away. I'm cold, and the silence pressing in around me only seems to double the pain. “Cazzo.” My mouth feels like a sponge, rough and a bit numb. Shit. Of course I'm freezing my balls off. I'm buttnaked. The pain in my skull is spreading. The fuck did I drink? I rub my eyes until the glue in them becomes a stinging pain. The other side of the bed's empty. Where's Sephie? I haul my ass out of bed and wince. “Fuck.” The incessant throbs behind my eyes only deepens. All my fault. I took the "grieving son" act too far. About four glasses of wine. No breather between the last three. More or less five hours of sleep. Now my body aches in ways that remind me I'm no wine connoisseur. Rubbing my temples, I try fixing the bed without tripping over myself. Not sure why I feel the need to piece together everything that happened last n
• ALL RIGHTS RESERVED COPYRIGHT © 2024 by M.Z.Mauve • DISCLAIMER • Scenes, characters, dialogues and events in this story are all invented. This story contains mature themes, profanity, violence, and sexual content not intended for young readers. All photos included in this book belong to the copyright owners. Full credits to the owners. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this story or plagiarism of any kind is prohibited by the law. | MAIN CHARACTERS | FL ••• Seraphine "Sephie" Lee Azur- 24 years old - receptionist at one of the Tomassinis' country clubsML ••• Dominico "Doni" / "Dom" Deschanel Tomassini- 29 years old - CFO of his father's new firm - founder and former CEO of a bankrupt fintech company Chapter 1 •••••••••••••••••••• [ S E R A P H I N E ] I'm a killer.I killed someone last night.Sweet old Sephie is dead. I murdered innocent little Sephie in more ways than I imagined. She died the moment I accepted the money. Gratefully. The biggest payment I'v
[ S E R A P H I N E ] "You good?" Dominico squints at me, then tosses back the whiskey in his second glass."Sì, Signore." [Yes, Sir.] The guy stares at me with furrowed brows. "Don't call me that." My heart drops at his emotionless voice. My shoulders tense up, and my cheeks feel like they're burning. "Pardon?""I'm not your boss." My gut clenches. Embarrassment heats up my throat and the back of my eyes. "Right." I try not to scowl as I put away the cleaning supplies. What the heck is this asshole's problem? Is it me? Because I didn't even try to look like I belong here? Is he disgusted by this outfit? Because I look too tacky for his refined tastes? According to some pictures online, he dated a 20-something Spanish model slash actress. Therefore he probably likes women with immaculate fashion taste.The jerk finally gets up from the stool and swigs the rest of his drink. As I keep my mouth shut, Dominico plops the empty glass back on the bar. "And I'm pretty sure you know my