The ballroom was still buzzing from the scandal she had dropped hours ago. A Morelli daughter walking off the dance floor, rejecting not one but two of the city's most dangerous heirs. Whispers spread like wildfire, dripping into every corner of old money and mafia alike.
Seraphina didn't care. At least, that's what she told herself as she slipped down the gilded corridor, away from the gala, away from prying eyes. Her heels clicked against marble until she found an alcove near the back terraces.
She needed air.
She needed silence.
Instead, she got voices.
She froze.
Two men stood just beyond the archway, half-hidden in the shadows. One of them she recognized instantly—Alessandro. The other wore the hardened features of a man used to violence, a soldier, not a socialite.
"You didn't have to do it here," the soldier muttered, voice low but sharp.
Alessandro's tone was casual, almost bored. "Where better? Everyone's too drunk on champagne to notice a thing."
Seraphina's fingers curled around the wall's edge, breath shallow.
The soldier shifted uneasily. "Still. Breaking his hand in the kitchen… what if someone talks?"
Alessandro chuckled, low and dark. "Then I'll cut out their tongue. Problem solved."
Her blood ran cold.
The soldier tried again, quieter. "He wasn't worth it. Just some waiter with a big mouth."
Alessandro's voice dropped, lethal now. "He touched her."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Seraphina's stomach twisted. Her?
"She belongs to me," Alessandro continued, every word etched in steel. "Anyone who forgets that… forgets their fingers, their tongue, their life. Understood?"
The soldier nodded. "Understood."
Seraphina pressed a hand to her chest, her pulse hammering. This wasn't flirting anymore. This wasn't obsession painted as romance. This was violence. Brutal, merciless, personal.
And it was for her.
---
He Catches Her
She turned too fast, heels betraying her. The sharp click echoed, and Alessandro's head snapped toward the sound.
"Who's there?"
Panic surged, but it was too late. He stepped out of the shadows, eyes narrowing as he spotted her half-hidden in the archway.
"Seraphina." His voice was flat, unreadable.
She lifted her chin, forcing steel into her spine. "So it's true. You're not just a spoiled heir with a taste for theatrics. You're a monster."
He stepped closer, slow, deliberate. "And yet, you were listening."
Her pulse thundered. "I didn't have a choice."
"There's always a choice." His gaze pinned her. "And you chose to stay."
"I chose to leave," she snapped. "You caught me."
Now he smiled, sharp and humorless. "Maybe I wanted you to hear."
The fury in her chest sparked hotter. "So I could what? Fall to my knees, grateful you maimed someone on my behalf?"
"No," he said simply. "So you'd understand what happens to anyone who touches what's mine."
Her hand shot out, shoving at his chest, though he didn't budge. "I am not yours, Valenti. You don't get to claim me like some trophy."
His eyes darkened, shadows flickering like fire. "Then why are you shaking?"
Her throat tightened. She was trembling, damn it, but not from desire. From rage. From fear. From the sickening mix of both.
"Stay the hell away from me," she whispered.
He leaned down, so close his breath skimmed her jaw. "Too late. I've already burned my mark into you."
---
The Family's Interruption
"Seraphina?"
Her cousin Isabella's voice floated down the corridor. The spell snapped. Alessandro stepped back just as Isabella appeared, eyes darting between them.
"There you are! Everyone's looking for you," Isabella said, tone sharp with suspicion as her gaze flicked from Seraphina's flushed face to Alessandro's cool smirk.
Seraphina straightened, smoothing her gown, forcing composure. "I was leaving."
Alessandro didn't move. His gaze followed her as she brushed past Isabella, heels striking like gunshots against the marble.
But his words followed her, quiet, deadly, promising.
"You'll never leave, princess. Not really."
---
That Night
Seraphina lay in bed hours later, staring at the ceiling. The chandelier above her cast fractured shadows across the room. Her gown was gone, her jewels stripped away, but she still felt them—the weight of chains disguised as silk.
Her father's words echoed. Her mother's indifference. Alessandro's threats.
And beneath it all, her own heartbeat, traitorous and fast.
Because as much as she wanted to hate him, as much as she wanted to run… part of her couldn't stop replaying t
he sound of his voice when he said he touched her.
Like she was already his.
Like she had been all along.