Serafina
The chandeliers blazed above me, spilling light across the marble like molten gold. The orchestra played something elegant, but the music barely touched me. Every step I took into the ballroom felt like stepping onto a stage, my pearls cool at my throat, the white dress clinging perfectly to every line of me.
Dante was already waiting. Black tuxedo. Dark eyes. A man carved from shadows and steel. He didn’t extend his hand until I was close enough for the world to see, and when he did, his grip was iron. A performance, yes—but one meant for me as much as for the crowd.
The applause swelled, thunderous and endless, as we walked together to the raised dais. Politicians, businessmen, cousins, rivals—all of them watching, drinking in the sight of Caruso and Romano united.
“Plea
