Chapter 5 - Seraphina

The room still smelled faintly of burnt fabric. My hand throbbed beneath the bandage, a sharp, constant reminder of my moment of recklessness. I clenched my fist, testing the tightness of the dressing. Adrian had done it himself—without a word, without hesitation.

I could still feel the ghost of his touch, the way his hands had been firm yet careful, steadying me as though I'd shatter at any moment. He'd pinned me against the wall like he always did, dominating the space between us, but this time, there was something different. A fleeting softness in the way his fingers brushed against my skin.

And I hated that it had affected me.

He didn't care—not really. Adrian never let his guard down long enough to care. He was cold, calculated, and distant, and that moment in the bedroom was just another power play. A reminder of who controlled this twisted arrangement.

Dinner had only confirmed it.

Sitting across from him at that long, imposing table, I'd felt every inch of the distance he kept between us. His words were as sharp as ever, clipped and commanding, yet his eyes betrayed nothing. When he told me to eat, it wasn't out of concern—it was an order.

I'd wanted to scream at him, to break the suffocating silence, but what good would it have done? Adrian thrived on control. It was in the way he spoke, the way he sat at the head of the table like a king overseeing his kingdom. Even when I pushed back, even when I shoved the plate away and refused to play along, he didn't flinch.

"You're here for a reason," he'd said, his voice cold enough to freeze the fire burning inside me.

And then I snapped.

Because no matter how tightly I tried to hold onto my resolve, his words cut deeper than I'd ever let him know. This wasn't about keeping me alive—it was about control. And he had it. He had me, whether I liked it or not.

Walking out of the dining room had felt like a small victory, but it wasn't. Not really. The walls of this mansion were like a cage, and Adrian was the lock. Every step I took away from him felt like running in circles.

Now, as I stared at my bandaged hand, the weight of everything settled over me. The flames, the fight, the dinner—all of it swirled in my mind like smoke, choking me with memories I couldn't escape.

I hated him.

I hated the way he made decisions for me, the way he forced me to stay in this house, the way he called me Sera as if he had the right to.

But more than anything, I hated the way my heart betrayed me every time he got close.

The sheets felt cold when I finally stirred, the pale morning light filtering through the heavy curtains. For a moment, I let myself sink back into the mattress, trying to forget the events of the previous night. The flames. His hands on mine. The way his voice echoed in the dining room, cutting through the silence with effortless authority.

I pushed those thoughts aside, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. My hand still ached beneath the bandage, but I ignored it. There was work to do, and dwelling on Adrian wouldn't get me anywhere.

The house was eerily quiet as I moved through it, my footsteps muffled by the plush rugs. I didn't bother looking for him. Adrian had a way of disappearing when he wanted to, just as he had a way of showing up uninvited when I least expected him.

I grabbed my keys, slung my bag over my shoulder, and stepped outside. The cool morning air hit my face, sharp and refreshing. For a brief second, it felt like freedom, like I could leave all the suffocating tension of this place behind me.

But I knew better.

Sliding into my car, I focused on the mission ahead. It was supposed to be a simple one, but nothing ever felt simple anymore. Not with Adrian looming over every aspect of my life, tightening his grip on me with every passing day.

As I drove, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched. It wasn't paranoia—I knew how this game worked. I'd been part of it long enough to recognize the signs.

Turning down a side street, I checked the rearview mirror. There it was. A sleek black car trailing a safe distance behind me, subtle enough to blend in but just noticeable enough for someone like me to pick up on.

Bodyguards.

I clenched the steering wheel, my jaw tightening. Of course, he'd sent them. Adrian never trusted anyone, not even me. Especially not me.

"Always keeping me on a leash, aren't you?" I muttered under my breath, pressing harder on the gas pedal.

But I didn't try to lose them. Let him think he had the upper hand. Let him think I wasn't aware of the constant shadow he cast over my life.

Because one day, I'd prove him wrong.

By the time I got back to the mansion that evening, I was exhausted. The day had been long, and the constant presence of Adrian's shadowy bodyguards had done little to improve my mood. I wasn't even sure what irritated me more—the fact that he didn't trust me or that I hadn't managed to lose them.

I pushed the heavy double doors open and stepped into the grand foyer, only to find him standing there, leaning casually against the staircase railing. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, revealing forearms that looked annoyingly perfect. His smirk, however, was far less perfect.

"Welcome home, wifey," he said, his voice dripping with mockery.

I dropped my bag onto the floor with a deliberate thud. "Cut the act, Adrian. If you're going to play house, at least vacuum once in a while."

He chuckled, the sound deep and infuriating. "I'd offer to help, but I think the broom suits you better."

"Funny," I shot back, walking past him. "I was just about to say the same thing about your mouth."

He followed me into the living room, his footsteps annoyingly calm and measured. "Long day?" he asked, feigning concern.

"Don't pretend like you don't already know," I said, turning to face him. "Your little spies gave you a full report, didn't they? What was it this time—'She had coffee at 11:13, frowned at a meeting at 2:45, and rolled her eyes precisely 17 times by 6 PM'?"

He grinned, not even trying to hide his amusement. "Only 17? You're slacking."

I crossed my arms, narrowing my eyes. "You're impossible, you know that?"

He tilted his head, his smirk widening. "And yet, here you are. Married to me. How's that for irony?"

I rolled my eyes, already turning to leave. "If sarcasm were a currency, you'd be a billionaire."

"Don't be jealous," he called after me. "There's room for two at the top."

I didn't dignify that with a response, but as I climbed the stairs to my room, I could hear him laughing softly behind me. Despite myself, a small smile tugged at the corner of my lips.

He was infuriating, insufferable, and entirely too smug for his own good. But if this was the game we were playing, I'd make damn sure I gave as good as I got.

The next morning started with Adrian's smirk. I swear, the man must practice it in front of the mirror like it's his secret weapon. I was halfway through my coffee when he walked into the kitchen, looking infuriatingly awake for someone who had no business being so cheerful this early.

"Morning, wifey," he drawled, leaning against the counter like he owned the place—which, technically, he did.

"Morning, pain in the ass," I replied, sipping my coffee.

He raised an eyebrow, pretending to be offended. "Careful, Sera, your loving tone is slipping. Someone might think you don't adore me."

I set my cup down and crossed my arms. "What gave it away? The sarcasm or the fact that I'm still here?"

"Definitely the sarcasm," he said, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl. "But don't worry, you're growing on me."

"Like a fungus?" I shot back.

He chuckled, taking a bite of the apple. "You're sharp today. Did you sleep well, or are you just naturally this charming in the morning?"

"Better than you, apparently," I said, eyeing the faint red mark on his hand—the same spot where I burned mine. "What's with the hand? A little too close to the campfire?"

His grin faltered for a second, just long enough for me to feel a twinge of satisfaction. He recovered quickly, though, flashing me a smug smile. "What can I say? I'm all about shared experiences. Thought I'd try your 'burn first, think later' method."

"Glad I could inspire you," I muttered, grabbing my bag.

As I headed for the door, he called after me. "Where are you off to so early? Planning to burn down another room?"

I turned back, letting the door frame support my weight. "If I do, I'll be sure to save the bed for last this time. Wouldn't want to deprive you of your favorite spot to sulk."

He laughed, the sound warm and surprisingly genuine. "Careful, Sera. If I didn't know better, I'd think you're starting to enjoy our little chats."

I didn't dignify that with a response. Instead, I stepped outside, letting the morning air cool the lingering warmth in my cheeks.

It wasn't that he was funny—he wasn't. But sometimes, in the middle of his relentless teasing, there was a flicker of something real, something that made me wonder if maybe, just maybe, Adrian and I could have been different in another life.

Too bad this wasn't that life.