The Morelli estate was spotless by morning.
The marble floors gleamed. Shattered glass was swept away. Not a single trace of blood remained in the grand library, though Seraphina still smelled it, metallic and sharp, in the back of her throat.
Her parents sat in the sunroom as if nothing had happened. Her mother reading Vogue, her father sipping espresso. Old money denial was a skill carved into their bones—if you didn't speak of it, it didn't exist.
Seraphina wanted to scream.
Instead, she stood at the doorway, silk robe cinched tight, hair still damp from the shower she'd taken to scrub invisible blood from her skin.
Her father barely glanced up. "You look pale."
"You let them into our house," she snapped.
His brows lifted. "The Romanos?"
"The Valentis."
A pause. Then, calmly, "We didn't let them. We allied with them."
Her chest tightened. "By handing me over like livestock."
"By protecting you," her mother cut in, not looking up from her magazine. "You should be grateful, Seraphina. Without Alessandro, you'd be dead."
Seraphina's nails dug crescents into her palms. "I killed a man last night."
Finally, her mother looked up, eyes cool and detached. "Then you did what was necessary. And you'll keep doing it. That's what being a Morelli means."
The room tilted. Her parents—unshaken, unaffected—were content to let her drown.
And Alessandro was the lifeline they'd thrown.
---
The Ultimatum
He was waiting for her outside.
Leaning against his black Maserati, as if nothing about last night's massacre was unusual. Shirt crisp, watch gleaming, smile cut like a blade.
Her stomach knotted. "Don't you ever sleep?"
"Not when you're in danger." His gaze flicked over her, slow, deliberate. "Which seems to be always."
She crossed her arms, silk robe tightening around her. "You knew. Didn't you? That the Romanos would come."
"I suspected," he said casually.
"And you said nothing?"
"If I had, would you have listened?"
Her silence was answer enough.
He pushed off the car, closing the space between them. "This is the reality now, Seraphina. Romano made his move. And he won't stop until he gets what he wants."
Her pulse skipped. "And what's that?"
Alessandro's smile sharpened. "You."
The world tilted again. Rage bloomed hot in her chest. "So I'm just property now? Passed between enemies like a goddamn chess piece?"
"No," he said softly. "You're the board. The entire game revolves around you. Romano wants to ruin me by taking you. I'll destroy him by keeping you."
Her throat tightened. "So that's it? My life reduced to strategy?"
"Not strategy," he murmured. "Survival."
---
The Bargain
She shoved past him, heading for the garden, but he followed. Always followed.
"Tell me what you want, then," she snapped, spinning on her heel. "You're clearly not letting go until you've got it."
His gaze locked on hers, steady and unyielding. "Marry me."
Her breath caught.
It wasn't playful this time. It wasn't a tease. It was command, iron wrapped in silk.
Her laugh was harsh. "You can't be serious."
"I've never been more serious."
Her hands shook, but she masked it with fury. "That's your solution? To trap me legally, permanently, with a man I don't even like?"
His eyes darkened. "You don't have to like me. You just have to stay alive."
Silence stretched. The air between them was taut, suffocating.
Finally, she spoke, voice low. "No."
His jaw clenched. "Seraphina—"
"No." She stepped closer, chin lifted. "If you want me, Valenti, then you're going to bleed for it. No contracts. No forced rings. You prove yourself—on my terms. Or you get nothing."
His nostrils flared, fury and fascination colliding. "You think you can dictate the terms of war?"
"I just did."
A dangerous smile curved his lips. "Careful, princess. That sounds like a bargain."
"Then take it or leave it."
He leaned in, mouth near her ear, voice a whisper that burned. "You'll regret giving me conditions. Because I'll break every one of them until you have nothing left to bargain with."
Her pulse hammered, but she held her ground. "Then maybe I'll break you first."
---
Victor's Shadow
That night, as Seraphina sat alone in her room, she caught movement outside her window.
A single white rose lay on the balcony, its stem slick with blood.
Tucked inside was a note, written in elegant, deliberate script.
He can't protect you forever. Sooner or later, you'll be mine.
—V.R.
Her hands trembled as
she crushed the paper.
For the first time, she realized Alessandro wasn't her only threat.
Victor Romano was watching too.