Seraphina POV
The first morning at Ranon's large exquisite home felt very strange.
I woke up in a room that was too fancy, too quiet, and too different from my life. The sheets felt nice, the bed was huge, and the sun was warm through big windows, but it wasn't my stuff.
I hadn't expected Ranon to live in such a home. One wouldn't call this a home rather a mini castle.
But I was still there.
Living with the guy who made my life famous without consent.
I got out of bed with a loud groan, hoping the day would be easy. It wasn't.
First, I ran into Ranon on my way to the bathroom, almost falling when he grabbed my waist, his chest hard and warm against my back.
"Be careful," he whispered.
"I'm fine," I said quietly, moving away fast.
Then, I burned my hand trying to use his complicated coffee maker, and Ranon just walked in, grabbed my wrist, and kissed the spot like he could.
"I can do it myself," I said quickly, my heart beating fast.
"I know," he said calmly, still holding my hand, "but I wanted to."
And then, because things couldn't be easy, I walked in on him in the closet with no shirt, his muscles looking like a statue, not someone in the mafia.
I ran like I'd done something wrong.
He laughed quietly.
And I knew these silly things were just starting.
He felt like a knight appearing every single step I took and I couldn't lie to myself. I didn't enjoy it quite a little.
In the late afternoon, after a quiet car ride, we got to the Vescari house, if that was the right word for a mansion like a small country.
Guards stood at the entrance.
Big columns framed the doors.
And power filled the air like smoke.
Ranon's hand stayed near my back, not touching, but close to tell me I wasn't alone.
Inside, the feeling changed right away. The smell of clean wood, old wine, and old ways surrounded me. The family history went through the house, old and strong.
"Seraphina," Ranon said softly, "you don't need to be scared."
That was easy for him to say.
He took me to a big dining room with a long table across the room. Don Vescari was at the head of the table.
The leader.
An old man with sharp features, white hair pulled back, and eyes that looked through you. He didn't need to talk to be in charge; he just was.
Ranon bowed his head a little. "Father."
Don looked up. Slowly. On purpose. He looked at me, cold, judging, hard to read. He stared at me for a while as if trying to read everything about me.
"So," he said, his deep voice filling the room, "this is the woman my son picked."
I took a breath. "Seraphina Quinn, sir."
The Don raised an eyebrow, amused. "Polite. Speaks well. And looks you in the eye. Good."
I stood up straight, not backing down. It wasn't bravery, it was staying alive.
We sat down, Ranon next to me. A few seconds later, someone else walked in.
Mateo.
Younger than Ranon, but just by a couple of years. Bigger and taller, having a scar on his jaw as a constant reminder that violence was normal.
He sat across from us, and his face tightened as soon as he looked at me.
His facial expression was as clear as day, he did not like me.
He did not trust me and he definitely didn't want me there.
Great. I felt the same way about him.
Dinner started quietly and carefully, and the sounds of the silverware were very loud across the big table. Then, Don leaned back and looked at me with strange interest.
"Seraphina," he said, "what do you do for work? Ranon said that you are a psychologist."
"Yes," I said back. "Specifically, I study criminal psychology."
His eyes got sharper. "Can you read people's minds?"
"Not exactly," I answered with a small smile. "I study patterns. Actions. Reasons."
Don looked at me with a quick flash of respect.
"Interesting," he mumbled. "That could be bad if it got into the wrong hands."
I stared back at him steadily. "Only if you are hiding something."
Across the table, Mateo got tense.
Ranon's lips moved a little either he was happy or amused, I wasn't sure.
Don laughed quietly. "You are very brave."
"I am just being honest."
"Even better." He nodded one time, with purpose. "You do not scare easily. My son picked well."
My stomach dropped.
Picked?
Like I was chosen as a business asset.
Don lifted his glass. "To the joining of Ranon and Seraphina."
My neck got hot.
Joining.
Marriage.
Promise.
These words still felt strange, heavy, and wrong.
But what could I do? Everyone already thought it was true. The news was outside my house. My job was at risk.
So I faked a nice smile and raised my glass.
"To… joining together," I whispered.
Don's eyes shined with approval, but Mateo?
He remained glued, he did not lift his glass, or even talk".
He did not blink.
He stared camly and hatefully in a calm, planning way.
I looked back, refusing to get worried.
He smirked finally, quietly and mockingly, and looked away.
That one look told me more than talking ever could.
Mateo Vescari did not like me.
He did not trust me.
And even worse he saw me as just a piece in a game he wanted to win.
Trouble.
That man spelled trouble.
As we ate, Don smiled more, asked questions, and liked what I said. He liked me maybe too much. Enough that even without being actually engaged, I had the leader's okay.
Ranon was next to me the whole time, calm, and hard to read, but sometimes his hand touched mine, which comforted me in
ways I didn't want to feel.
By the end of the night, I knew something scary:
Even if I wanted to leave…
This family would not let me go.