Chapter 15 – Serafina
Bellarosa Estate
The ride back is quiet.
Cristofano drives with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gearshift like he didn’t just have his hands all over me ten minutes ago. Like he didn’t just pull me into his lap in the backseat, kiss me breathless, and take me apart one quiet moan at a time.
The city lights blur against the window. I stare out at them, jaw tight, arms folded.
My heart won’t settle. My legs ache, and my chest feels bruised from how fast everything moved. From how stupid I was.
From how much I wanted it.
By the time we reach the gates of the mansion, I’m already pulling away—physically, mentally, emotionally. I smooth down my skirt, tuck loose strands of hair back into place, and grip the door handle before the car fully stops.
He parks. I get out first.
I keep my head down and move toward the entrance with sharp, quiet steps. If anyone sees us walking together this late, they’ll talk. They’ll guess. And this whole mission will collapse around me like wet paper.
I’m almost at the door when I feel it.
His hand wraps around my wrist and pulls.
I turn, eyes wide.
“Don’t—”
But he’s already leaning in. His lips are an inch from mine when a cough slices the air behind us.
I turn my head—slowly, dread sinking into my stomach.
Alessandra stands a few feet away in a silk robe and heels, her hair done, her makeup flawless. Like she never went to sleep. Like she’s been waiting.
“Well,” she says, voice crisp and loud in the early morning air, “isn’t this adorable?”
I lower my head. Shame coils in my spine.
Alessandra tilts her head at me. “Do you have no dignity?” she asks coldly. “Throwing yourself at him like this? He’s a Don. And you’re….”
She lets the sentence hang.
He lifts my hand, still in his, and looks directly at her.
“Alessandra,” he says, tone flat, “maybe don’t interrupt a horny couple when they’re saying goodbye.”
Her mouth parts in disbelief.
“I swear,” she says, eyes narrowing at me, “you’ll regret this.”
Then she turns and stalks away, heels cracking hard against the floor.
The moment she disappears, I yank my hand from Cristofano’s.
I step back.
“This—” I say, my voice shaking, “this was a mistake.”
He watches me. Brows pulling low.
“We had sex,” I continue. “Fine. It happened. You had your fun. So did I. Now we move on.”
He doesn't reply right away.
Then, almost like he's watching me through a fog, he takes a step forward.
His eyes narrow.
He stares at me. Then he frowns.
“Answer me one thing,” he says quietly.
I freeze.
“What?”
He tilts his head. Brows furrowed.
His voice drops. “Why do you look familiar?”
My heart stops. His eyes narrow, studying my face like he’s trying to reach through it.
I draw a breath. Swallow hard.
Then I lift my chin and say, “Stop playing.”
He doesn’t move.
“I want to resign,” I say, the words sharp and clipped.
He tilts his head. There’s no anger in his eyes. Just…calculation. And something I don’t trust.
“You’re fired,” he says.
My brows draw together. “Excuse me?”
“You’re fired,” he repeats casually. “Effective now.”
He takes a step closer. “You’re no longer my maid.”
Another step. “You’re my lover.”
“You can’t do that,” I snap.
He shrugs. “You’ll earn a bigger salary. Better benefits. I take care of my own.”
I blink. Once. Then I laugh—but there’s no joy in it.
“Why would I want a man like you?”
His expression shifts.
“I may be a maid,” I say quietly, “but I still want love. Real love. From a man whose heart is kind, whose hand is gentle. A man who doesn’t strike fear just by entering a room. A man whose hands are clean.”
He doesn’t flinch.
“I’m not that man,” he says. “I’m a con. A killer. That’s my life.”
“And you don’t care about the lives you end?”
“I do what I have to do,” he replies. “So do you.”
My throat tightens.
The words echo, cold and too close.
A tear slips down my cheek before I can stop it.
“If you had a daughter,” I whisper, “would you look her in the eye and tell her who you are?”
He straightens.
“I don’t have a daughter.”
“But what if you do one day?” I ask. “Will you tell her what you’ve done? Those you’ve hurt?”
He doesn’t speak at first.
Then his jaw tightens.
“She’ll be protected. Loved.”
“And terrified.”
“She would not!” His voice cracks like a whip. “I would raze the world to the ground to protect her. She would be safe, and she would be loved at all costs.”
I wipe the tear from my face.
I say softly, “I quit.”
He takes a step toward me.
I step back.
“I’ll pack tomorrow,” I say. “You won’t have to see me again.”
I was done with the mission after all.
I turn, walk down the hallway, heart pounding, limbs trembling.
I make it to my room.
The door shuts behind me. I slide down the back of it and sob. I don’t know how long I sit like that before the receiver in my cabinet beeps, two short pulses.
My breath freezes.
I rise slowly and walk into the bathroom. I lock the door. Retrieve the device.
It lights up with a coded pulse.
A pre-recorded voice message from Tony.
His voice is tight, low.
“Serafina. The safe house was breached. Unknown men—likely Bellarosa’s—forced entry. Your mother and daughter are alive, but shaken. They left a message.”
The audio crackles.
“They said if you don’t end the investigation, next time there will be no survivors.”
The device goes silent.
And so do I.
My hands clench around the receiver until my knuckles crack.
My throat stays still, even as my lungs tighten. Even as my whole body goes stiff, like I’m made of wire drawn too tight.
He tried to touch my daughter.
Twice.
I unlock the comms panel and press the call channel.
It buzzes once.
Tony picks up on the second chime.
“Serafina?”
My voice comes out calm. “Did your people find anything in the files I sent?”
He exhales. “They’re pushing. We’ve got the logs, shipment manifests, financial threads. My team’s decoding everything.”
“Can it bring him down?”
Tony’s pause says everything.
“It can destroy his trafficking network,” he says. “But not him. Not Cristofano Bellarosa.”
My fingers tighten against the wall tile.
“Then how do I destroy him?” I ask. “He went after my daughter. Twice. I want him gone.”
“Serafina—”
“I want him gone,” I say again, voice still flat. “I need to erase him from her future.”
Tony’s tone sharpens. “Calm down.”
“I am calm.”
“I’ll prep an exit for you. We can—”
“I need him gone,” I say again. “I need his empire cut down. I need him to fall.”
Tony sighs into the line. “You think I don’t want him gone, too? But only the mafia can kill the mafia. You know that. That’s not something we can touch.”
My jaw tenses.
“Then how do I enable that?”
Another beat of silence.
“You’re letting your heart get too dark, Sera,” Tony says gently. “It’s not like you.”
“If I leave,” I whisper, “he’ll know it was me. He’ll know. And he won’t stop. Not until he wipes me out. And if he can’t reach me, he’ll find Bianca.”
Tony doesn’t speak for a moment.
Then: “I’ll send you a location. Tonight.”
I nod. “Fine.”
The line goes dead.
I place the receiver back behind the cabinet, slide the mirror shut, and walk back into my room.
The bed sits untouched.
The air is still warm from the day, but my body feels cold.
I slip under the covers, curling into my side, and stare at the dark ceiling above me.
If I want to protect Bianca…if I want her to live free of shadows…I have to take Cristofano Bellarosa off the board.
Completely.