Damiano's eyes snapped up to mine.
Luciana was still clutching that bundle of keys and access cards, momentarily frozen, as if she'd forgotten which expression to put on.
I looked at Damiano, my voice steady.
"You got your wine thrown back, and she got the keys she wanted. Are we done here?"
Damiano's throat bobbed. He reached for me, his lips parting like he wanted to say something.
But in the very next instant, Luciana let out a soft hiss and pressed her fingers to her temple.
"Damiano, I think I might have caught a chill. My head hurts..."
He pulled his hand back without a second of hesitation and turned to her.
His suit jacket came off and settled over Luciana's shoulders. He leaned down to adjust her collar, his movements careful, tender. Two of his soldiers stood a few steps behind, eyes lowered, pretending not to see a thing.
"Don't just stand here. Go back to the room and change. I'll have someone bring hot water."
The expensive fabric was already blooming with ugly juice stains, but he didn't spare it a single glance.
Just like he hadn't spared one for me.
I turned and walked away from a place that had never been mine to begin with.
I didn't notice that Damiano's gaze followed me from the moment I turned around, trailing after me until I was gone.
I took a cab back to the small safe flat I hadn't lived in for ages. I practically stumbled into the bathroom, gripping the edge of the sink, and threw up for what felt like forever.
Bitter acid surged up in waves, scorching my throat raw.
When I finally lifted my head, the person in the mirror stopped me cold.
Colorless face. Hollow eyes.
She looked almost identical to the girl who had walked out of Saint Rosalia Home ten years ago.
I was sixteen that year, fighting tooth and nail for a chance at a scholarship in a church-run home where every kid was clawing for the same thing.
In the end, someone locked me in the storage cellar, and I missed my entrance exams.
I pounded on the door. I screamed until my voice gave out.
No one found me until the next day, when Damiano came along with the Bellandi Winslow to visit and heard me.
He draped his jacket over my shoulders, gentle as anything. "Your name's Serafina, right? Do you want to go home?"
That jacket was so warm. It carried a faint, clean scent I could still remember to this day.
And I did go back to the Bellandi Winslow. I got my chance at school, got clothes on my back and food on the table.
The Bellandis never liked me. They preferred Luciana. They said I was too withdrawn.
Damiano was the only one who was different.
He went out of his way to visit me at the Bellandi house. He helped me with homework. When someone picked on me, he stepped in without being asked.
I loved him in silence for three years before I worked up the courage to tell him, the day I got into college.
The day Damiano said yes, he kissed me like it was a vow. He told me he'd give me a home, that I'd never have to suffer again.
My first kiss was so sweet it made me cry.
Now the face in the mirror was streaked with bitter tears, and I couldn't even tell when they'd started.
I reached up and wiped them away, the motion clumsy and graceless.
Seven years. I was done waiting for Damiano to keep his promises.
I was rinsing my face when the bathroom door swung open without warning.
My heart slammed against my ribs. Before I could react, a familiar force pinned me against the wall.
Damiano's scent crashed over me, and then his mouth was on mine.
The instant I remembered he'd kissed Luciana the same way just moments ago, my stomach turned and I shoved at his chest.
He caught my wrists, his grip impossible to break. I could feel the leather of his watch strap pressing into my skin where his hand locked around me.
"Why did you hand all your keys to Luciana? I thought you'd at least put up a fight."
I stared at him. The irony was almost funny.
"Isn't that what you wanted?" I said quietly. "We broke up. Giving your promised bride the keys to your compound seems pretty straightforward."
Something flickered behind his eyes, a trace of guilt he almost managed to hide, and his tone softened.
"I told you, it's all an act. There's nothing between Luciana and me. If there were, it would've happened a long time ago."
"Just be good for a little while longer. Everything that's yours will still be yours. You'll always be my wife, and the baby will always be my heir."
If not for the jasmine perfume clinging to his skin, Luciana's scent so thick I could almost taste it, I might have actually believed him.
I didn't bother explaining anymore.
I just nodded, going through the motions.
Damiano wanted to tend to the cut on the back of my hand. I felt too wretched to resist.
His touch was surprisingly gentle. When I flinched, he instinctively blew on the wound, the way he'd done a hundred times before, as if nothing had changed.
I watched his profile, and my heart clenched before I could stop it.
It reminded me of the ride home from Saint Rosalia, when he'd dabbed ointment on my scrapes with the same quiet care.
Then his phone rang.
Luciana's voice came through the speaker, trembling on the edge of tears.
"Damiano... I feel awful, I'm so dizzy... Where did you go? I'm scared being alone..."
His fingers tightened visibly, pressing harder against my wound without realizing it. The leather strap of his watch creaked once as his wrist flexed.
I sucked in a sharp breath. He didn't notice.
"I'm out. Just picking up some medicine for you."
Luciana's voice turned small, cautious. "Did you... go see Serafina?"
Damiano didn't miss a beat.
"No. I'm on my way back to you now."
It was spring, but I felt cold down to my bones.
The part of me that had softened moments ago felt pathetic.
Luciana was the one who got every ounce of his tenderness. How did I still not understand that?
To him, I was no different from an obedient pet.
I loved Damiano. But I needed love that was mine alone, not scraps tossed my way out of obligation.
The cut on my hand had split open again from the pressure, fresh blood seeping through.
I couldn't tell which hurt more, my hand or my heart.
He hung up and seemed to remember I existed.
"Sera, just hang on a few more days. Once this is over, we'll sign the marriage papers."
I said nothing.
A few more days.
Then I'd never have to endure this again.
Damiano was about to leave when my phone buzzed.
A reminder from the OB-GYN popped up on the screen, confirming tomorrow's procedure.
His gaze drifted over to it. His brow creased, slowly.
"Why are you going to the OB-GYN?"
"Didn't you just go a few days ago?"
