CHAPTER 14- EYES THAT NOTICE
1363 Words
Safina had spent years learning how to disappear.
Not physically, not in the obvious sense. She was always present—always dressed impeccably, always seated beside Alessandro when required, always visible in the way a wife was meant to be visible.
But she had mastered invisibility of another kind.
The art of being overlooked.
Men spoke around her, not to her. Their eyes slid past her as though she were part of the furniture, part of the aesthetic of power rather than its substance. They assumed she heard nothing, understood nothing, existed only to smile and soften Alessandro’s image.
It was an advantage, in a way.
Invisibility allowed observation.
Serafina watched constantly. She memorized tones, patterns, silences. She learned to read rooms the way prey reads forests—alert to shifts, to danger, to the subtle signals of predators moving nearby.
Most people did not notice her noticing.
But Luca Romano did.
That realization came slowly, like the first crack in ice—thin, almost imperceptible, but impossible to ignore once seen.
It began with small things.
A glance that arrived too quickly when she stiffened.
A pause when her breath caught.
The way Luca’s gaze would flick toward her at moments when no one else seemed aware anything had changed.
Serafina told herself it meant nothing. Luca was observant by nature. That was his role. He watched everything.
But the longer she lived beneath the weight of Alessandro’s empire, the more she understood that Luca’s awareness was different.
Luca did not simply watch for threats.
He watched for truths.
One afternoon, Alessandro hosted a council meeting with several captains. Serafina was not invited, of course, but she was instructed to be nearby in case refreshments were needed.
She sat in the adjoining sitting room, a book open on her lap, eyes lowered.
The men’s voices bled through the half-closed door.
Numbers. Territories. Names spoken like weapons.
Serafina listened without appearing to.
Then Alessandro’s voice sharpened.
“You’ve been skimming,” he said calmly.
A silence followed.
Another man stammered, “No, boss. I swear—”
Serafina’s fingers curled against the page.
She knew what came next.
She heard the scrape of a chair, the shift of tension.
She held her breath.
Then Luca spoke.
Quietly. Evenly.
“His hands are shaking.”
The room went still.
Serafina frowned slightly.
She couldn’t see the man, but she could imagine Luca’s gaze fixed on him with clinical precision.
Alessandro’s voice softened.
“Are they?”
A pause.
The man’s voice cracked. “It’s just nerves.”
Luca replied without emotion.
“Nerves come from guilt or fear. Either way, it’s weakness.”
Serafina felt cold move through her.
Luca had noticed something so small—something that revealed everything.
Men lied with words.
Bodies told the truth.
Luca listened to bodies.
The meeting ended soon after. The captains filed out, faces tight.
Luca emerged last.
His gaze swept the sitting room and landed on Serafina immediately.
She looked down quickly, forcing her expression into neutrality.
But she felt it—that subtle awareness, like being seen through.
Not as a wife.
As a person.
Later that evening, Alessandro hosted dinner with a visiting ally.
Serafina sat beside him, her posture perfect.
The ally spoke loudly, laughing too easily, offering compliments that felt oily.
“And your wife,” he said, gesturing toward Serafina. “Beautiful, of course. A jewel.”
Alessandro smiled.
Serafina’s fingers tightened slightly around her fork.
The ally leaned closer, voice dropping.
“It must be comforting. Having something lovely and quiet at home.”
Serafina forced a polite smile.
Across the table, Luca’s gaze lifted.
Just briefly.
He looked not at the ally’s face, but at his hand—where it rested too close to Serafina’s space, fingers inching near her wrist.
Serafina had not even registered it consciously yet.
Luca did.
The ally laughed again, careless.
Alessandro continued speaking, unconcerned.
Then Luca moved.
One step forward, silent.
The ally paused mid-laugh.
Luca’s voice was calm.
“Keep your hands to yourself.”
The table fell silent.
The ally blinked, startled.
Alessandro’s smile remained, but his eyes sharpened.
Luca did not look at Alessandro. He looked only at the ally.
The ally withdrew his hand immediately, cheeks flushing.
“Of course,” he muttered, forcing another laugh. “No disrespect.”
Luca stepped back, returning to stillness.
Conversation resumed, but something had shifted.
Serafina’s heartbeat was loud in her ears.
No one else seemed to find Luca’s intervention strange. His role allowed such things.
But Serafina could not stop thinking about the fact that Luca had noticed before she even had.
Not the gesture.
The threat beneath it.
She began to see it everywhere after that.
Luca noticing a guard whose attention wavered.
Luca noticing a servant whose face was pale, hands unsteady.
Luca noticing Alessandro’s moods before they erupted, redirecting conversations, stepping subtly between him and provocation.
And Luca noticing her.
Always.
Once, early morning, Serafina walked through the courtyard wrapped in a coat, seeking air.
She believed she was alone.
The sky was pale, the world quiet.
She sat on a stone bench, closing her eyes briefly.
For a moment, she let herself imagine what it might be like to breathe without vigilance.
Then she heard a voice.
“You’re cold.”
She opened her eyes.
Luca stood nearby, hands in his pockets, coat collar turned up against the chill.
Serafina stiffened.
“I’m fine,” she replied automatically.
Luca’s gaze flicked over her face.
“No,” he said simply. “You’re not.”
The bluntness startled her.
Most people lied to her. Or pretended.
Luca did neither.
Serafina’s throat tightened.
“What do you want?” she asked quietly.
Luca’s expression remained unreadable.
“To make sure you’re not seen.”
Serafina’s brows furrowed.
“Seen?”
He nodded faintly, glancing toward the mansion.
“Alessandro doesn’t like weakness on display.”
Serafina’s stomach twisted.
So that was it.
Even her solitude was not private.
Her grief was dangerous.
Luca looked at her again.
“You should go inside,” he said.
Serafina did not move.
Instead, she asked softly, “Do you ever not see things?”
A pause.
Luca’s gaze lowered slightly, as though considering the question.
“No,” he said finally.
The word was heavier than it should have been.
Serafina studied him, searching for something human beneath the armor of control.
“Does it haunt you?” she whispered before she could stop herself.
Luca’s jaw tightened.
His eyes held hers.
“Haunting is for people who can afford regret.”
The answer was cold.
But beneath it, Serafina sensed something else.
Not emptiness.
Containment.
Pain locked behind discipline.
She realized then that Luca’s awareness was not a gift.
It was a burden.
He saw everything.
The threats. The lies. The weaknesses. The small fractures in people’s masks.
He saw the cost of power constantly.
And he carried it silently.
That was why he was lethal.
Not because he enjoyed violence.
Because he understood it.
Because he noticed the moment it became inevitable.
Serafina felt a strange, unsettling shift in her chest.
For years, she had believed no one truly saw her suffering. That it was invisible, contained within the walls of her marriage.
But Luca had always noticed.
He had noticed her flinches.
Her silences.
Her exhaustion.
The way she learned to disappear.
And if he had noticed…
Then what had he done with that knowledge?
The question frightened her more than ignorance ever had.
That night, as Serafina lay awake beside Alessandro, she stared into the darkness.
Luca’s eyes came to her mind—sharp, unblinking, aware.
Eyes that noticed what others ignored.
Eyes that saw too much.
She wondered, with growing dread and curiosity intertwined:
Was Luca merely a witness?
Or was he waiting—
as he had said—
for change?
And if he was…
What would change look like, when it finally arrived?
Serafina closed her eyes, heart beating steady with uneasy understanding.
In this world, being unseen kept you safe.
But being seen by Luca Romano…
might be the most dangerous thing of all.
- Writer
