Marcel:
Seraphina stood at the far end of the corridor, staring at a closed door as though she could burn a hole through it with pure rage.
Her spine was rigid.
Her jaw clenched.
Her fingers trembling with a fury she couldn’t swallow.
A crack in the armor.
Finally.
I leaned against the wall, arms crossed, pretending not to watch, but not bothering too hard. She was too consumed by her humiliation to notice.
When Alexander rejects a woman, he doesn’t do it subtly.
And Seraphina?
She wasn’t built to handle subtlety, let alone rejection.
She brushed past me without a word, perfume too strong, expression too composed to be real.
“Rough night?” I asked lightly. “Because it seems to me that you’re burning holes to the walls, door, and anything that you’re looking at,”
She paused.
J
