[ 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
[ S E R A P H I N E ]About 15 minutes later, I'm inside the cabin where Dominico told me I should "hide" if I want to avoid his father for the next couple of hours. I'm double-checking Dominico's injuries, making sure his nose isn't broken. I don't really need to ask whether it was his father's doing. My gut tells me I already know the answer. It's the WHY that's still bugging my sleep-deprived brain. Only, it's obvious what happened between him and his father is the last thing my companion wants to chat about.So far I'm 90% sure Dominico will live and won't need emergency rhinoplasty. The bleeding already stopped, and his septum doesn't look deviated, but the bridge of his nose does look swollen. My dad has taught me more than basic first aid over the years, and Dominico seems to believe me.We're still alone, still in the same clothes, exchanging awkward glances while I sit next to him on the left side of the bed. It's not too small for two people, but rather uncomfortable if he
[ S E R A P H I N E ] When I step out of the bathroom in an old cotton shirt and clean leggings, the curtains are lightly swaying in the early morning breeze. They cast dappled shadows across the bed sheets. Okay. Dominico bothered to cover up the windows. Maybe he can't sleep in a room that isn't pitch-dark.I take a deep breath. I feel a bit lighter, relaxed, and not that dizzy anymore. The lights have been turned off. Except one. I suppose he left the nightstand lamp on for my sake. The yacht sways ever so slightly, and I don't hear any strange noises coming from outside.Thank goodness. Ignazio hasn't found me yet.Dominico is still on the couch, sitting alone and...What the heck? The guy's half-naked? When did he take his clothes off? Where did he put them?I stand still and open-mouthed beside the bed, my insides already in knots. But maybe this is normal for him? Sleeping in his underwear... And to be fair, his dark boxers still hide enough of his private parts and a few i