Page 9

SERAFINA

T he black iron gates groan as they open, revealing Alessandro's vast estate bathed in the mist that rolls in with the cold gray skies. The sprawling mansion is up ahead, its white walls stark against the leafless trees surrounding it. It's beautiful in a cold, untouchable way—much like the man who owns it. The long driveway is flanked by hedges cut with perfect lines. Every inch of this place screams power and control. Both of which are issues Alessandro has, he likes power and always has to be in control.

I grip Leo's small hand tighter as we approach the house. He clings to his stuffed lion, eyes wide as he takes in the towering house. His steps slow, hesitant as he looks up at the two-story mansion.

"Mommy, is this our vacation?" Leo's voice is small and uncertain. He's never been into a mansion, or seen one, we've also never taken an actual vacation. I tried to keep his life simple, real—and live under the radar of assholes who have houses like this one.

I kneel beside him, brushing a hand through his mop of dark curls. "Just for a little while, we're going to stay here. It's a big house, it'll be fun."

But even as I say it, a knot twists in my stomach. I swear I am going to hell for lying to my kid. Fun isn't the word I'd use to describe anything about Alessandro D'Angelo. Behind us, he watches quietly, his eyes are unreadable. His silence is unsettling, as is the way he observes Leo, making me itch to bolt and flee.

His phone rings and he's distracted. He strides ahead, speaking quietly, issuing commands I can't hear. His voice is calm—he is a man used to being obeyed. Guards emerge from the shadows of the estate, moving into place so they can see us. I hope they don't scare Leo; he is not used to giant men in black uniforms wielding guns. This place is a fortress, which gives me some comfort. It is not home, and I don't want to stay here longer than I have to.

Leo wiggles his fingers where I am squeezing too tight. I let go and force a fake smile, but my heart is not smiling at all.

Inside, the house is even colder. Marble floors stretch endlessly beneath vaulted ceilings, and dark portraits line the walls—eyes watching, judging. There is crystal, glass and so many priceless things a little boy could break. Nothing about this home is childproof, and I wonder how long it will be before Leo gets into something he shouldn't. Alessandro leads us through the halls in silence until we reach the guest wing. Every step feels like we're sinking deeper into a cage we can't escape.

"This is your room," he says, opening a large double door. "Leo can stay with you. There are two beds."

I cross my arms, refusing to move. "You think locking us away in the back of your mansion is going to make me feel safe?" This is a prison, albeit a pretty, comfortable, luxurious one—but a cage is a cage.

"You're here because it's the safest place you can be right now. Not because I care about your comfort. It's not like I have you holed up in a dump. Would you like to stay in the maids' quarters, maybe?"

I lift my chin, unwilling to let him see that he is getting to me.

"Safe?" I scoff. "Nothing about you or this place feels safe." I hiss in a whisper, not wanting to frighten Leo.

His smirk is humorless. "Would you prefer Marco pay you two a visit?"

I hate how the thought makes my stomach turn. I hate that he's right.

I hate him.

"Fine. But don't expect me to be happy about it. I don't want to be here, and if my son wrecks the place—that's on you. This is not exactly a playground." I look around the room, even in here there are a million potential hazards for a small child.

He leans in slightly, voice dropping. "I can replace anything he breaks. I can't replace you?—"

He leaves us alone, and I unpack our few things into the closet. They fill an entire wall of the room, but our meager belongings only take up one small shelf. I don't intend to stay here long enough to take up space. Leo zooms around, opening doors, and drawers and exploring the enormous bathroom which is almost as big as my apartment was.

He could swim in the bathtub it's so big. "You want to take a bath?" I ask him, and his face lights up.

"In there?" he asks.

"In there, it'll be like swimming in your paddling pool! There're even bubbles." I turn on the water and pour in the bath bubbles; they're way too expensive to be kids bubbles, but I don't give a shit. It'll make him happy and distract him from all the changes, and chaos around him.

"Yes!" he does a mini fist pump in the air and starts stripping off his clothes. "Put more, lots of bubbles please, Mom," I add more watching the lush white foam growing into a cloud on top of the water. "This house is so big; it's like ten houses stuck all together." He jabbers on, talking too fast for me to understand it all, so I just nod and smile.

He has no idea the world he's in right now—he is so innocent, so sweet and young. Untouched by the ugly shit that lurks in fancy homes like this. The shiny exterior only hides the ugly insides.

Later, I find Alessandro in his study, staring out a floor-to-ceiling window. The room is all dark wood and leather, every inch oozes manliness and power. Shelves lined with books stand untouched, more for show than comfort. I doubt he reads, they're here to make him look like he's well-read and important. A half-empty glass of whiskey sits on his desk. He still drinks too much—some things don't change, I guess.

"We need to talk about Leo," I say, arms crossed. I have anxiety just at the thought of him being here, it's gnawing at me. Alessandro couldn't possibly understand.

He doesn't turn. "Now you want to talk?"

"He's confused, Alessandro. He doesn't understand why we're here. He is just a little boy."

"Then explain it to him." He snaps at me like it is just that simple.

I step forward, anger sparking. "He's five. He doesn't need to know about men like Marco or your family's bloody legacy. I will not steal his innocence from him."

He finally turns; eyes cold. "He's my son. I have a right to protect him."

"Who said he's your son?" I snap. "And protect him? Or claim him like you claim everything else?" I'm not just going to let him push his way in. He can't take Leo from me; I won't ever let him do that.

His jaw tightens, shoulders stiff. "I didn't ask for this war, Serafina. But it's here, and I won't let you or him become a casualty."

"No, you just started it and left." I glare at him, my heart pounding. "It's too fucking late Alessandro. There are casualties everywhere. You don't get to talk about casualties. You left me to pick up the pieces before. I won't let you do it again." He will just disappear again, run away, and hide from the carnage.

He steps closer, the tension between us is tangible. "Then stop fighting me." I will never stop fighting for my son, to save him from becoming like his father. I will fight him to the fucking death if I have to. Leo will not end up like my brother did.

"No," I say.

Night falls, and I sit on the edge of Leo's bed, watching him as he sleeps. His stuffed lion is tucked under his arm, his face peaceful blissfully unaware of the danger that is so close to us. The darkness inside me is harder to ignore in the quiet of the night.

The door creaks softly. Alessandro lingers in the doorway, shadows cloaking him. Half in, half out—like before, never truly there. He could never commit to me, to being all in. It was always halfway because there was always someone trying to pull us apart.

"Is he asleep?" he asks quietly.

I nod. "For now."

He doesn't move, but something about his posture changes, he relaxes.

"I won't let anything happen to him here," Alessandro says, his voice soft.

I search his face, trying to find the man I once trusted—and the man I'm afraid still lurks beneath the surface. I loved him, I was going to marry him. I betrayed my brother's trust, and my family had settled on an arrangement with him. Then everything changed in a moment.

"You better fucking not," I whisper.

For once, Alessandro doesn't have a smug response. He lingers for a heartbeat longer, then quietly turns and leaves us alone. I can't sleep, as much as I try, I toss and turn and hear every little sound that this enormous house makes.

If I close my eyes I have nightmares, all brought back by seeing Alessandro again. The heartache, the devastating loss. The disappointment. Broken promises, and the rejection. It comes back like a tsunami, drowning me.