Two hours later, Seraphina sat in her office with Aurora, reviewing the prototype designs for their next collection launch. The designs sprawled across the screen—Art Nouveau inspired pieces, flowing lines and organic shapes, emerald-cut stones set in platinum with vine work.
"This one," Aurora said, pointing to a necklace design. "The asymmetry is gorgeous, but production costs are going to be insane. Maybe simplify the clasp?"
"The clasp is the whole point," Seraphina said, leaning forward. "It's meant to look like it's growing naturally from the—"
A knock interrupted them.
Their security guard stood in the doorway, holding a large box wrapped in expensive-looking navy blue paper with a silver ribbon that caught the light.
"Delivery for Miss Hale," he said. "From Mr. Langford."
Seraphina's heart skipped—actually stuttered in her chest like a teenager's. Aurora's eyes went wide with barely contained glee, her whole face lighting up like Christmas morning.
"Thank you," Seraphina managed, taking the surprisingly heavy box. Her fingers tingled where they touched the paper.
The moment the door closed, Aurora practically lunged across the desk. "Open it. I need to see what a billionaire sends his fake fiancée."
"It's not—we're not—" Seraphina stopped, because what were they exactly? Partners? Allies? Something more complicated that she didn't have words for? "It's business."
"Sure it is." Aurora's grin was wicked, knowing. "Business that requires expensive presents in beautiful packaging delivered personally instead of through his assistant. Very professional. Very businesslike. Now open it before I die of curiosity."
Seraphina's phone buzzed. Alexander:
For tonight. Miss Chen will arrive at 5 PM to help with fitting and styling.
Her hands trembled slightly as she untied the silver ribbon—silk. She peeled back the navy paper carefully, almost reverently, to reveal a garment box from a designer whose name alone made Aurora inhale sharply.
"That's Valentino," Aurora whispered. "Custom Valentino. Sephy, that box alone probably costs more than my monthly rent."
Seraphina's heart hammered as she lifted the lid with trembling fingers.
The dress inside stole her breath.
Royal blue—so deep it was almost purple in the shadows, but with depths that caught the light like deep water, like sapphires. The fabric was liquid silk that seemed to flow like water even while perfectly still, catching the office lights and turning them into something magical.
The design was breathtaking in its elegant sophistication. A V-neckline , cut sleeves, a fitted bodice that would hug every curve before falling in a graceful column to the floor.
It was the most beautiful dress she'd ever seen.
"Holy shit," Aurora breathed, reaching out to touch the fabric with reverent fingers. "Sephy, that's—that's—"
Seraphina ran her fingers over the silk with trembling hands. The fabric was impossibly soft, cool against her heated skin, like touching water.
She tried to imagine Alexander choosing this dress. Going over each and every detail—the neckline, the sleeves, the exact shade of blue. Calling the designer, describing her body, her coloring, her style with the same precision he applied to billion-dollar deals.
"Can you gift it to me afterwards?" Aurora asked hopefully, breaking the spell.
Seraphina shot her a sharp look. "Absolutely not."
"Worth a shot." Aurora leaned closer, examining the dress with professional interest, her fingers tracing the invisible seams.
"But seriously," she continued, her eyes meeting Seraphina's. "This wasn't pulled from a rack. He knows exactly what would look good on you. " She paused dramatically. "God, gift me a fake fiancé like this."
A snort escaped Seraphina's nose before she could stop it, breaking into startled laughter that felt good after the terrible morning.
Seraphina pulled out a small card tucked into the tissue paper.
Alexander's handwriting—sharp, decisive, somehow intimate despite being just words on paper:
I always thought you looked lovely in blue.
Her throat tightened. Her eyes burned.
I always thought you looked lovely in blue.
Not "you'll look good in blue." Not "blue photographs well." But I always thought—meaning he'd been thinking about this for a while. Meaning he'd paid attention, remembered, stored away that information and waited for the right moment to use it.
Meaning he'd been watching her for longer than just this crisis. Maybe for longer than this contract. Maybe—
Stop it. You're reading too much into a dress and a card.
But her racing heart didn't agree.
"What does it say?" Aurora tried to peek over.
"Nothing," she said, attempting to hide the card away from Aurora's far too curious eyes.
But Aurora was quicker—she snatched it away in a flick of a second.
Aurora read it and wiggled her eyebrows in a way that made Seraphina want to throw something at her. "Still think this is just business?"
"He's strategic. The interview needs to make an impact. The dress is—"
"Perfect," Aurora interrupted. "The dress is perfect for you. And nobody—nobody—commissions a custom Valentino gown and includes a handwritten note, all for just business." She crossed her arms. "This is personal, Sephy. Very personal."
"Don't say it."
Aurora pressed her lips together, but her entire body vibrated with the effort of holding in whatever she wanted to say. She looked like a child trying desperately not to blurt out a secret—eyes wide, cheeks puffing out slightly, hands clenched in fists.
It would have been funny if Seraphina's heart wasn't racing so fast.
"Fine," Seraphina said, exasperated. "Speak. Say whatever it is before you explode."
"He likes you!" Aurora burst out, words tumbling over each other. "He likes you, Sephy. This isn't fake for him. This isn't a strategy or a contract or a business. This is a man who's interested. Very inter—"
"There is no way he likes me," Seraphina cut her off, but her voice came out too defensive, too desperate.
Aurora raised an eyebrow. "Really? We're going with denial?"
"Aurora, he is Alexander fucking Langford."
Seraphina stood, started pacing, needing to move, needing to burn off the nervous energy flooding her system.
"He has a net worth of seventy billion dollars. He's handsome, rich, accomplished, brilliant—he's built an empire that makes most Fortune 500 companies look like lemonade stands."
She turned her head, meeting Aurora in the eye.
"What am I to him? Just a girl who was his junior at Ravenswood, whose lips used to stick together and face turned red when he came anywhere near me?"
Still does, if we're being honest.
"You're terrified," Aurora said quietly, dropping the teasing tone. Her voice was gentle now, concerned.
Seraphina looked down at her hands. They were indeed trembling against the silk. She pulled them back, folding them in her lap, trying to hide the physical evidence of how much this affected her.
"Men give beautiful things," she said finally, voice hollow. "They show you they care, they fuck you, and then they leave. And they leave you behind—alone, betrayed, bitter, and unable to trust. Everyone, every single person, does that. The sooner you understand that, the better."
Aurora's face softened.
"So you take his gift," Seraphina continued, forcing steel into her voice. "Make him yearn if you want. But you never get attached. You don't believe the dress or the ring or the pretty words mean anything real."
Aurora was quiet for a long moment, studying her with those too-knowing eyes. "Or," she said slowly, carefully, "maybe—just maybe—he's not every other man you've known. Maybe he's exactly who he appears to be."
"And who is that?" Seraphina's voice came out sharper than intended. "A man who threatens CEOs before breakfast? Who can make people disappear with a phone call? Who wields that much power and expects me to just... trust him with it?"
"A man who used that power to protect you," Aurora countered. She paused. "Sephy, I know Derek fucked up. But that doesn't mean everyone will."
That was the issue. Everyone in her life had fucked her over eventually. That was just the pattern. Trust someone, get destroyed. Love someone, get abandoned.
But the words stuck in her throat, because what was the point? Aurora wouldn't understand. She hadn't lived through it, hadn't felt the suffocating weight of Derek's control or the searing pain of Evelyn's betrayal or the crushing devastation of her mother celebrating her murder.
"We need to get back to work," Seraphina said finally, her voice flat and final. She gestured to the designs still glowing on the screen. "These prototypes won't finalize themselves."
Aurora opened her mouth like she wanted to argue, wanted to push further, but something in Seraphina's expression made her stop. "Fine. But Sephy? At least think about it. Think about the possibility that not everyone is going to hurt you."
She left before Seraphina could respond, the door clicking shut with a quiet finality.