Blackwood tower
1082 Words
Chapter Five
Blackwood Tower
Seraphina left the ballroom earlier than expected. Not because Alexander’s warning frightened her, but because once he said it, she started noticing things she’d ignored before.
The tension in Octavian’s jaw whenever certain investors approached him. How Helena kept disappearing from conversations midway through the evening. The way servants moved more hurriedly than usual through the estate halls. Subtle things, small enough to dismiss separately. Together, however, they were unsettling.
By the time Mira helped her upstairs later that night, exhaustion pressed heavily through her body.
“You pushed yourself too much,” Mira murmured while unpinning the delicate clips from Seraphina’s hair.
Seraphina sat quietly before the vanity mirror, watching her reflection dull beneath the warm bedroom lights. Perhaps. Or perhaps she was simply tired of rooms filled with people pretending everything was normal.
“You’ve been quiet since dinner,” Mira continued carefully.
“Was I ever loud?”
“You know what I mean.”
Seraphina looked toward the rain beginning again outside the windows. Her thoughts kept drifting back to Alexander Blackwood. Not the man himself necessarily, but the feeling around him—controlled, observant, sharp enough to notice what others missed. And somehow, despite barely speaking, he had unsettled the entire Vale estate simply by appearing inside it.
Interesting. Very interesting.
Mira reached for the jewelry box beside the vanity. “Do you know him?”
“No.”
“But?”
Seraphina looked down at her hands resting quietly in her lap. “But I think he notices too much.”
The maid frowned slightly, unsure whether that was good or bad. Honestly, Seraphina wasn’t sure either.
The following morning arrived gray and cold. Rain clouds still lingered heavily over the city while the estate remained unusually quiet for such an enormous house. Seraphina sat near the breakfast table inside her private sitting room, absentmindedly stirring untouched tea while newspapers lay scattered nearby. Every headline featured business—market instability, corporate shifts, investment speculation. No mention of Alexander’s appearance at the Vale estate.
Good. Families like theirs preferred keeping tensions private.
A knock interrupted the room. Before Seraphina answered, Helena entered carrying her phone in one hand and an unreadable expression on her face.
“You’re awake early.”
“So are you.”
Helena crossed toward the windows slowly. “Uncle wants to see you later.”
“About?”
“He didn’t say.”
Lie. A tiny one, but still obvious. Seraphina leaned back slightly in her chair. “You’re a terrible liar before noon.”
That almost earned a genuine smile. Almost. Helena’s gaze drifted briefly toward the untouched breakfast. “You should eat more.”
“There it is.”
“There what is?”
“The family concern.”
Helena sighed softly. “You make caring about you sound suspicious.”
The statement lingered strangely between them, because Seraphina honestly didn’t know whether it was suspicious anymore. Before she could respond, Helena’s phone buzzed suddenly in her hand. Her expression shifted instantly after reading the screen—surprise first, then something sharper.
“What?” Seraphina asked quietly.
Helena looked up slowly. “You have visitors.”
Interesting. “I wasn’t expecting anyone.”
“Apparently.”
Something in her tone made Seraphina straighten slightly. “Who?”
Helena hesitated, then finally answered:
“Alexander Blackwood.”
Silence. Even Mira, standing quietly nearby arranging flowers, froze briefly. Seraphina set her teacup down carefully. Alexander Blackwood had come directly to the Vale estate. In daylight. Publicly. Bold.
“Did he say why?”
“No,” Helena said, folding her arms slowly. “But Uncle looks furious.”
That nearly made Seraphina smile. Nearly.
Twenty minutes later, she entered the main drawing room downstairs. The atmosphere felt tense immediately. Octavian stood near the fireplace with controlled stillness while two servants lingered awkwardly near the doorway, pretending not to listen. And across the room, Alexander Blackwood looked entirely at ease. Of course he did.
He wore black again today—simple, expensive, perfectly tailored. His attention shifted toward Seraphina the moment she entered, though his expression remained unreadable.
“Miss Vale,” he greeted calmly.
“Mr. Blackwood.”
Octavian’s gaze moved sharply between them. “You know each other already?”
“Briefly,” Alexander answered before Seraphina could. Again—controlled. Interesting.
Seraphina crossed the room slowly, aware of the tension tightening the air around her uncle. No one offered tea. No one sat comfortably. Which meant this visit had not gone smoothly before she arrived.
“What brings you here?” she asked.
Alexander held her gaze evenly. “I came to ask you something personally.”
The room fell still. Even Octavian looked slightly caught off guard by the directness, and Seraphina noticed immediately. Dangerous man. Alexander stepped forward just enough to close some of the distance between them—not enough to intimidate, enough to focus attention. Then calmly said:
“Have dinner with me tonight.”
Silence. Absolute silence. One servant nearly dropped a tray near the doorway, and Octavian’s expression hardened instantly. “Mr. Blackwood—”
But Alexander never looked away from Seraphina. Not once. Interesting strategy. The invitation itself wasn’t shocking. The boldness was. Men usually approached the Vale family through business first, permission second, appearances third. Alexander bypassed all of it entirely, as though only her answer mattered.
Seraphina studied him quietly. Everything about him felt deliberate—the calm voice, the unwavering eye contact, the confidence. And beneath all of it, something she still couldn’t fully read.
“You came all the way here for dinner?” she asked softly.
A faint flicker of amusement touched his expression. “I dislike wasting time.”
Dangerous answer again. Behind her, Octavian spoke carefully through obvious irritation. “I’m sure my niece appreciates the invitation, but—”
“Yes.”
The word left Seraphina before she fully considered it. The room went still. Octavian stared at her. Helena, who had appeared silently near the doorway at some point during the conversation, looked equally surprised. Only Alexander remained calm. Of course.
Seraphina held his gaze steadily despite the strange tension building inside her chest. “Dinner sounds fine.”
For the first time since entering the room, Alexander smiled properly—small, brief, dangerously attractive.
“Good,” he said quietly.
And somehow, without understanding why, Seraphina suddenly felt like she had just agreed to something far bigger than dinner.
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