Chapter 2: Then Watch Me
1055 Words
The city lights blurred as Seraphina stumbled down the street, her silver gown clinging damply to her legs. Her heels clicked unevenly on the pavement, mascara smudging from the tears she promised herself she wouldn’t shed. She was humiliated in public by the man she loved.
Her legs carried her without thought, weaving through the streets until the glow of a bar’s neon sign caught her eye. Exclusive and tucked away from the chaos. The kind of place where no one would expect to see Seraphina Cavalli.
Perfect.
She slipped inside. The air was warm, and smelt of whiskey and smoke. No one here cared about her ruined birthday dress or the tears streaking her cheeks.
Seraphina slid onto a stool at the far end of the counter, her shoulders slumping. “Vodka please,” she said, her voice raw.
The bartender hesitated before setting a glass down. She wrapped her fingers around it and drank in one swallow, the liquor burning a path down her throat. It numbed her chest, dulled the ache behind her eyes.
“One more,” she muttered, tapping the counter.
The second glass came, then a third. By the fourth, her lips were trembling, and she had started to realize there was no filling this dark abyss in her stomach. Her phone buzzed again, the screen lit up with headlines she didn’t want to see. With a sharp breath, she turned it face down.
“Another,” she whispered.
The bartender looked uneasy, but before he could pour, a voice interrupted from her left.
“Don’t you think that’s enough?”
Seraphina’s body stilled. Slowly, she turned her head.
The man sitting beside her wasn’t there a moment ago. Tall, his frame filling the seat with quiet confidence. Dark hair, eyes even darker—steady, unreadable, sharp enough to make her catch her breath. He watched her calmly, as though he had all the time in the world.
Her lips curved into a bitter smile. “Who asked you?”
He didn’t flinch. His gaze lingered on her face, on her smudged makeup and trembling hands, before his lips tilted faintly. “If you keep drinking like that, you’ll regret it tomorrow.”
She laughed sarcastically. “Tomorrow? What makes you think I care about tomorrow?”
His eyes narrowed slightly, though his expression stayed composed. “Because you’re not going to throw everything away.”
Her chest tightened, stung by the certainty in his tone. She bit her lip hard and lifted the glass again, ignoring the way her hand shook.
“Then watch me,” she whispered.
Before she could tip it back, his hand shot out, firm and unyielding around her wrist.
Her breath caught, her eyes flying to his sharp gaze. His grip was strong, warm, his thumb pressing lightly against her pulse as though testing its frantic beat.
“Enough,” he said again, lower this time, his voice a command that vibrated through her.
Seraphina’s lashes trembled. For a moment, she forgot how to breathe. His eyes were so close, so steady, stripping her down until she felt bare.
“Let go,” she managed, though her voice came weak, unconvincing.
He studied her for a beat, then slowly released her wrist. His hand fell back to the counter.
Her lips parted, her breath shallow. She turned away quickly, ordering another drink in a whisper.
Her phone buzzed again. She knows she shouldn’t look, but she did it anyway.
The headline screamed across the screen: SUPERMODEL SERAPHINA CAVALLI PUBLICLY DUMPED BY ZANE CARRINGTON.
Her throat closed as she scrolled. Images of her sitting alone at the restaurant. Her shocked face at the party. Zane laughing with another woman. And then the comments were so cruel, so sharp she felt each one like a knife.
“Omg, this is so embarrassing.”
“girl thought she was special. Turns out she was just a prop.
“Zane traded her in for a younger model already? Brutal?”
Just hours ago, those same accounts had been flooding her feed with hearts and birthday edits. Now they tore her apart like vultures.
Her eyes blurred. Her hand trembled so badly she nearly dropped the phone.
“I said enough,” the man beside her murmured again, his tone firmer now.
Her head whipped toward him, fury rising to cover the hurt. “And what are you going to do about it?”
His lips curved, the faintest edge of danger in his smile. “You don’t want me to answer that.”
Her breath hitched despite herself. She hated that his words sent heat crawling up her legs, or maybe it was the alcohol causing it?
She tossed back the drink anyway. The world tilted immediately, her vision swimming as she slid off the stool.
The man rose smoothly beside her like he had been expecting it.
“Don’t follow me,” she slurred, her heels wobbling as she headed for the door.
He didn’t reply, but his tall frame shadowed her steps.
The night air hit her flushed face as the cameras flashed again, the paparazzi like wolves, hungry for her downfall.
“Seraphina, are you drunk?”
“Seraphina, where’s Zane?”
“Smile for us, Seraphina!”
Trying to cover her face from the flashing lights, her heel caught the curb. She stumbled, and strong arms wrapped around her before she hit the ground.
Her head fell against his chest. The scent of him filled her nose—clean, expensive, so different from Zane’s choky perfume.
“Let me go,” she whispered, though her fists curled weakly in his shirt.
“You can’t even stand,” he said quietly, his voice close to her ear, deep enough to send a shiver through her.
Her lips trembled, and the words slipped out before she could stop them, broken and raw. “Why doesn’t anyone want me?”
He froze. His jaw clenched, eyes darkening with something unreadable.
But she didn’t notice—her lashes fluttered, her body going slack as she passed out in his arms.
Nicholas Sterling looked down at the woman cradled against his chest, her face pale, her makeup streaked, her beauty undeniable even in ruin.
He sighed.
“What am I going to do with you?” he murmured.
- Writer
