Serafina
The car ride back from the Palazzo was suffocating, though no one spoke. My mother fiddled with her pearls, muttering prayers under her breath. My father stared straight ahead, jaw tight, unreadable. Amelia sat beside me, practically humming, her eyes glinting with too much curiosity for my liking.
I didn’t breathe properly until we were back home and I slipped into my room. The white dress—my armor for the evening—was tossed onto the chaise. I tugged the pearls from my ears, yanking harder than necessary, anger burning hot in my chest.
Dante’s face was still burned into my mind. The way he’d kissed my hand for the cameras like I already belonged to him. The way he’d gripped my waist when he thought no one was watching.
Fury tangled with something else I didn’t want to nam
