43. Serafina
CHAPTER 43
Serafina
I t's been seven days of pacing back and forth in this gilded cage they call a mansion. I can't leave, not even for a breath of fresh air. Wherever I go, my guards follow, shadows tethered to my every move. No privacy, no freedom. In order to protect Nora and keep my secret life hidden, I wait patiently until I can come up with a plan to get rid of them.
As the sun begins to peek through the window, casting a warm glow into the room, one of the maids enters with a silver tray balanced delicately in her arms. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and warm croissants wafts through the air, tempting my senses. I give her a weak smile, my appetite long gone in the midst of my worries.
I murmur a soft “grazie" as I rise from my bed and walk over to the large window, peering out at the view beyond. Outside, the infinity pool glistens and sparkles under the bright rays of sunlight, taunting me with memories of carefree days spent swimming away my troubles. But now it feels like just another opulent amenity that has become a prison, trapping me in this life I never asked for.
"Another day in paradise," I mutter sarcastically, drawing the heavy curtains closed to block out the harsh reality outside. I walk myself back to bed and I let my body sink back into the plush bed, staring at the ceiling, willing time to pass faster. But the clock seems stuck in some twisted loop, each tick mocking my confinement. If only I could talk to Nora and understand what happened at that little house in Mexico. Her bravery saved me, but it left so many questions unanswered.
"What are you hiding, Nora?" I whisper to the empty room.
The phone I left behind the night I ran off buzzes on the nightstand, the LED screen lighting up the dark room. I reach for it eagerly, hoping for a connection to the outside world. Still, my heart sinks when it's just another pointless notification. Social media updates, news alerts—none of it matters. I'm cut off from the world, isolated in the heart of my family's empire.
Feeling restless and suffocated by the monotony, I make a decision to break free from the confines of my bed. I leap onto the floor, eager for any activity to distract my mind from sinking deeper into despair. Maybe I'll read a book, sketch, or even try baking something disastrous in the kitchen. Anything to keep my mind from spiraling further into despair.
Determined in my stride, I slip on a pair of loose-fitting jeans and a tight white t-shirt before venturing out of my room. However, as I approach the staircase, the low murmur of voices drifts through the air from the living room. My curiosity prickles like a persistent thorn, urging me to investigate. It's probably just another boring business meeting. I tiptoe down the stairs nonetheless, hoping for some form of entertainment or distraction.
The walls seem to lean in closer with each step I take, the sound of my bare feet whispering against the cold, unyielding marble floors. The grand mansion feels like a labyrinth, its intricate corridors and rooms leading me deeper into my thoughts.
I strain to listen as I creep down the stairs, catching snippets of conversation from the living room. Quarterly reports. Return on investment. Nothing exciting. But with a resigned sigh, I press myself against the wall near the living room, grateful for any distraction from the monotony of my day.
"Antonio, we need to move quickly..." My father's stern and commanding voice cuts through the murmur like a sharp blade. Nothing unusual there.
"Lo so, ma dobbiamo essere cauti," my mother replies, her tone measured as she urges the room to be careful. That's odd. What does being careful have to do with return on investment?
"Y Lucas?" a third voice asks, causing my heart to leap into my throat. What about Lucas?
"Think of him as our personal insurance policy. He will ensure that everything goes according to plan," my father responds, his words dripping with authority. "Right, Lucas?"
He's here!? Anger and longing swirl within me, tightening my chest in a confusing mix of emotions. Without hesitation, I seek refuge in the nearest closet, the darkness offering a sense of safety. Straining to hear more, their voices become muffled, distant echoes floating through the air like ghosts.
As I wait for the meeting to conclude, I brush against the rough fabric of forgotten coats to calm my trembling fingers. Minutes stretch into an eternity, yet that eternity doesn't stop me from needing to see him.
With a quick glance down the hallway, I see Lucas walking alone, his dark hair falling across his forehead as he looks down at his phone. My heart races with nervous excitement as I make my move, darting out of hiding and grabbing his arm, then pulling him into the closet with me. The smell of mothballs and old coats fills my nostrils as we stumble inside, but I don’t care because I might get some answers for a change.
"Serafina? ?Qué estás haciendo?" he hisses, his voice low and urgent. His eyes widen with surprise as he takes in the unexpected sight of me crouching in the shadows.
"Shh!" I quickly cover his mouth with my hand, feeling the heat emanating from his skin. The dim light casts a soft glow over his features, revealing the emotions playing in his grey eyes—confusion, concern, and something else that I can't quite decipher.
My voice barely above a whisper, I ask the question that has been plaguing me for months. "Why?" My heart pounds in my chest as I struggle to keep my emotions in check.
"Sera, this is not the place," he begins, but I can't hold back any longer. With a desperate need for answers, I interrupt him.
"Non mi importa! You owe me answers, Lucas." My voice shakes with the weight of everything I've been holding inside as I whisper shout at him.
"Tranquila," he murmurs, his calloused hand caressing my cheek with tenderness. For a brief moment, everything else fades away. The chaos and confusion outside the closet disappear as I am transported back to our shared past.
"Please," I plead softly, feeling vulnerable and exposed. "Just tell me why."
The name escapes his lips like a sigh, torn between his emotions. "Serafina," he says, struggling to find the right words. "It's complicated."
"That's not good enough," I whisper, tears threatening to spill over. "I deserve more than that."
"Lo sé," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I can’t tell you yet, it’s not safe. The less you know, the better for now."
"Better for who?" I demand, frustration boiling over. "For you or for me?"
"For both," he replies, taking a step back as if creating a physical chasm between us in the cramped space we occupy. "All I ask is that you trust I have a plan for us. I promise to make it all okay soon."
"Maybe my brother was right." I challenge, searching his eyes for any trace of the man I once knew. Heat rises within me as our gazes lock, the tension thick and palpable between us. "Maybe you really are just another enemy looking to take down my family."
For a moment, his stoic expression falters, showing traces of confusion and hurt before he regains control and speaks again. "I would never hurt you, or your family," he speaks softly.
But I don’t trust him. He promised to run away with me and instead, I ended up in Mexico all alone. I’d be crazy to trust anything else he says. The lifestyle I lead doesn’t afford me the luxury to trust freely once it’s been broken. The lump in my throat is hard to swallow as I try to hold back the tears.
"My family may not see it yet, but I do." I say bitterly, determined not to show any weakness. "And I’ll make sure they see it if it’s the last thing I do."
"Do what you haver to, mi angel," he replies, a flicker of pain crossing his face as he turns to leave. "I’d rather you hate me than -"
"Than what? Facing me like a man? Admitting that you’ve been using me to get to my family? I don't even recognize you anymore." My voice trembles with emotion and finally breaks.
"Adiós, Serafina." His voice is like a gentle caress against my skin. And he vanishes in an instant, leaving me stranded in the all-consuming darkness again.
The silence in the closet is suffocating. I sink to the floor, hugging my knees to my chest. The walls close in, pressing down with the weight of everything unsaid.
"Perché?" I whisper to the empty air, my tears finally spilling over. "Why did it have to end up like this?"
But there is no answer, only the echo of my own anguish reverberating off the walls of the confined space.