Empire of Revenge

Chapter - Eight

Serafine—POV

The wedding reception demanded a dress, and this one didn't disappoint: an off-white satin gown that hugged my frame like a fitted glove. I checked myself in the mirror. Off-the-shoulder, full sleeves, lace crawling over the fabric just enough to conceal the damage on my upper arm.

Hair pulled into a tight bun. Minimalist makeup looks perfect on my pale skin. Diamond necklace with diamond earrings giving me extra glam! An expensive, misty perfume rub on my wrist.

A soft knock.

"Come in."

Zavier stepped in, and my eyes moved over him before I could stop them. Navy tux, a crisp white shirt, and black lapels were too polished. There was something about his aura that carried an edge of danger even in formal wear. His hair sat just right; he'd planned it that way. Blue eyes locked on mine, sweeping down my frame head to toe and then back up.

"What are you staring at? Let's go." My voice came out sharper than I intended. I didn't like the way his gaze settled on me.

I moved past him. He caught my arm. I looked up, pain flaring as his grip landed too close to the injury.

"The moment you step out that door, you act like my wife." His voice was a warning.

"No need to remind me."

He scoffed.

His hand slid from my arm to my waist as if it belonged there. It's strange that it feels that way. I was losing my head. That had to be it. The heat that spiked under my skin was probably just the painkillers messing with me. That was all.

"This is how I'll be holding you, princess." He leaned in close. His cologne hit me with spice and citrus. His lips barely grazed the tip of my ear. I turned to snap at him, and he pressed a single finger to my lips, silencing me before the words could form.

"You'd better get used to it," dangerous and low.

"Sir, guests have arrived."

Madison's voice cut through the moment before I could shove his hand off me.

Zavier nodded at her. I stared at him a second too long, turning over what he'd said back there. What does he know that I don't? He raised an eyebrow at me, a silent What are you looking at?

"Don't look at me like that. I'm playing the part. Just like you asked. " I said. I didn't bother meeting his eyes again.

We stepped out of the private wing and into the banquet hall of the estate.

Jero caught my eye from across the room, his expression unreadable, curious, maybe. Measuring.

The moment the tall wooden doors opened, the hall swallowed us whole. Not just the spotlight; every eye in the room shifted. The weight of so many gazes settled on me at once, and I felt it. All of it. I'm not used to this kind of pressure. I'd trained every day, pushed myself past the point of breaking‌; somehow I'd fallen short.

Don't do that. Don't guilt yourself right now. You're inside the enemy's walls. Focus. Get as much as you can.

"Seems like you're not used to things like this," he murmured close to my ear just before a guest moved toward us.

"I'm fine." I kept my chin level, my voice smooth. "Watch me handle it."

He smiled for half a second, and I hated myself for noticing. This asshole should not be allowed to look like that. I shut it down fast.

He kills innocent people. Don't forget it.

"Princess," his voice dropped into a softer version. It made my skin crawl. I plastered on a smile and thought of Kael, holding the image there like a shield. For a second, it almost worked.

Then those blue eyes cut through it.

This isn't Kael.

"Yes," I said. Sweet as poison.

"This is Mosley Falcone, head of the Falcone family. And his daughter, Celeste."

"Nice to meet you." I kept my smile warm. Fake, but convincing enough.

"I hardly believe you'd marry someone other than your betrothed." Celeste's voice had an edge to it. Her father shot her a look. She ignored it.

"Betrothed?" I tilted my head. Curious. Just surprised enough.

"He didn't tell you?" Her gaze cut to Zavier.

Zavier's eyes found mine. A silent order. Don't react.

"I love her. I married her." Zavier said nonchalantly. Like the words tasted wrong in his mouth.

Mosley wasn't convinced. Neither was Celeste.

"He told me about the betrothal," I said, voice easy. "I just didn't know it was the Falcone family."

I turned into Zavier, resting my palm flat against his chest, a quiet claim. Mine.

He knew no one was buying it. His eyes found mine. Be ready.

I know what you're asking. Kissing him. My enemy. The man I was forced to marry. Every part of me revolted at the idea. Until his gaze dropped to my lips.

My heart kicked. His hand came up slowly, resting on my cheek like he had all the time in the world. I told myself it was performance. I told myself I was ready for it.

I wasn't ready. His lips brushed mine, barely a touch. I gasped, and that was all the opening he needed. His mouth covered mine, his tongue sliding in slow and sure, and for a terrible moment I forgot every single thing I was supposed to remember. The noise in the room fell away. The Falcones fell away. Everything did.

The sound of shattering glass pulled me back. I glanced to my side. A whiskey glass, broken on the floor beside me.

Zavier pulled me into him in one sharp motion, turning his body to shield mine as something liquid splashed across the floor near my feet. The shards didn't reach me.

I looked toward the Falcones. Celeste stood there, fury masked on her face, the whisky glass gone from her hand.

"You expect us to believe this?" she hissed. "Zavier, who exactly are you trying to fool?"

"Celeste,Enough!" Mosley's voice came down like a blade, quiet, final. He closed his hand around her arm before she could take another step toward me.