Chapter Two
1022 Words
POV: Kai Russo
The applause roared around me, but I only saw her.
Saraphina Lorenzo. My bride. My enemy’s daughter. My prize.
The veil had been lifted, but she might as well still have been wrapped in ice.
Every line of her posture screamed rebellion, her chin tilted as though defiance could shield her.
She stood beside me in silk and lace, fire disguised as porcelain.
God, she was beautiful.
Not in the way the women at my parties were, those polished dolls with diamonds and practiced laughs.
Saraphina was something else entirely. She carried her father’s fire in her eyes, that Lorenzo arrogance like it had been carved into her bones.
But there was something her father never had…an innocence she fought desperately to mask.
She didn’t belong in my world. Yet here she was, bound to me.
When the butler handed her the envelope, I caught the faint tremor in her fingers.
Her lashes flickered as she read. Something changed in her eyes, a jolt, a shadow. She clutched the letter like it burned.
What did it say? Who sent it?
I moved closer, letting the crowd’s cheers drown my words. “Keep smiling, Saraphina.”
She obeyed. I was expecting that. Her lips curled in a mask, but her grip on the paper was iron.
I didn’t press her. Not yet. Answers always reveal themselves eventually. And with Saraphina, I had time. A lifetime, if I wanted.
But as I watched her, something unexpected stirred in me. Admiration, yes.
Desire, unavoidably. But also a pull I hadn’t anticipated.
For the first time in years, I wondered if binding her to me would cost me more than I had bargained for.
A flick of memories and I could remember when her father entered my office for a loan.
The scent of cigar smoke and oak paneling hung in Lorenzo when he entered my private study.
Lorenzo sat across from me, a glass of whiskey sweating in his hand.
His once-proud face sagged with exhaustion, but his eyes, those sharp, greedy eyes…still gleamed.
“You want the company?” he said, voice gravelly. “You want Russo control stitched into every brick I built?”
“Yes.” My voice was calm, steady. I had waited years for this. I wanted shares in all the companies in Germany.
He chuckled, bitter. “You sound like me, when I was your age. Hungry. But hunger can destroy a man if he feeds it wrong.”
“Then let me feed mine on what you failed to protect.”
He stiffened. I had struck a nerve, as intended. Lorenzo Enterprises had been crumbling under debt, corruption, and arrogance.
He needed me, whether he admitted it or not.
Finally, he leaned back and gestured at the documents I’d placed before him–“Your terms are brutal.”
“Business is brutal.”
His hand trembled slightly as he reached for the pen. He signed once, twice, sealing away his empire.
Then he stilled. A sly smile spread across his face. “You’ll have control of my company, Russo. But there’s something else.”
I arched my brow. “Something else?”
“My daughter.” He said it like tossing a bone. “Saraphina.”
The name was an afterthought, a bargaining chip.
I let out a sigh, that name has lingered in my heart for years.
I studied him, cold fury curling in my gut. “You’re offering your daughter as collateral?”
He shrugged, pouring more whiskey. “I don’t care what you do with her. She’ll never survive the boardroom. Too soft. Too emotional. But perhaps she’ll survive you.”
My jaw tightened. I should have walked away. Instead, I signed.
A father leaving his daughter as collateral for his own greed? Amazing.
Because at that moment, I understood, taking Saraphina would not only bind Lorenzo’s empire to me, it would destroy the one thing he had ever cared about beyond himself.
And when he was gone, his legacy would wear my name.
But accepting Saraphina was not for collateral but for what I've felt all these years.
I faced reality after my nostalgic flashback. Lorenzo wasn't someone Saraphina should protect his legacy.
He sold her out for his own greedy interest.
The applause died down, replaced by murmurs as guests dispersed toward champagne and string music.
Saraphina still clutched that letter. She thought she was hiding it, folding it into her bouquet, but I saw everything. I always saw.
Something inside her had shifted. The proud fire was still there, but now it burned alongside suspicion.
She didn’t trust me, not that I wanted her to. But whoever had written that letter had stolen something from me tonight. Control.
And control was everything.
I let my arm rest around her waist, my touch firm enough to remind her of where she stood.
She stiffened, refusing to lean into me. Good. I liked her spine.
But as I looked at her, I thought of Lorenzo’s whiskey-soaked grin.
"I don’t care what you do with her".
Well, I cared. More than I should.
She was mine. Not collateral. Not bargaining chips. Mine.
And whoever had sent that letter? They would learn just how far I’d go to protect what was mine.
I don't care what the letter contains, but I'll make sure the sender pays.
She looked at me suspiciously and that was the height of it.
As the orchestra swelled, I caught a reflection in the tall mirrors lining the hall.
A figure lingered at the far edge of the room. Not a guest. Not one of mine.
They raised a glass toward me in a mock salute.
And at that instant, I knew.
The sender of the letter wasn’t some random enemy.
It was him. I had seen this faceless man all my life, he always lingered in the shadows and never showed his face.
The man I had buried years ago. The man who wasn’t supposed to be alive. The man that haunted my dreams.
I should have buried him when I had the opportunity.
My faceless enemy…
- Writer
