Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Angelo
I escorted Serenity down the grand staircase, one arm securely around her waist, taking each step slowly.
The Christmas decorations we’d put up together seemed to glow brighter in the morning light—the garland, the twinkling lights, the wreaths on every door.
The scent of pine mingled with something far more enticing: the rich aroma of breakfast cooking.
As we approached the dining room, I could hear Elena’s voice carrying down the hallway, her French accent lilting as she directed someone—probably one of the staff—with elegant authority.
We stepped through the doorway, and the long mahogany table was set like a feast. Elena stood at the sideboard, arranging covered dishes with the precision of a true French chef. When she saw us, her face lit up.
“Enfin!” She swept toward Serenity, taking her hands in hers. “I was beginning to think Angelo would have you locked in that tower forever, ma chérie.”
“Just one night,” Serenity said with a smile.
“One very long night,” Elena corrected, her dark eyes flashing with concern as she guided Serenity to the chair at the head of the table—my chair, which she’d claimed for Serenity without asking. I didn’t argue. “Sit, sit. You must be starving, non?”
The sideboard was laden with homemade biscuits—golden brown and flaky, still steaming—next to a boat of creamy sausage gravy.
Breakfast sausage links glistened on a platter, perfectly browned.
Fluffy scrambled eggs filled another dish, and the sharp, distinctive aroma of chicory coffee—true New Orleans style—filled the air from the silver pot on the table.
“Elena, this is too much,” Serenity protested, but her eyes were already drinking in the spread hungrily.
“Pas du tout! Nonsense.” Elena began filling her plate with generous portions, clucking like a mother hen as she worked.
“You slept for twelve hours. Your body needs fuel, especially now.” She glanced meaningfully at Serenity’s belly.
“Besides, you are eating for two. And you need your strength for all this baking you and Joy have planned, oui?”
Serenity smiled up at Elena as she settled into her seat. “This is wonderful, Elena. Thank you.”
“De rien, ma chérie.” Elena patted her shoulder affectionately before moving to fill my plate as well
I sat beside Serenity and looked down at the food Elena had prepared.
“It is.” The biscuits were perfect, the gravy rich and savory, but I barely tasted the first bite.
My mind was elsewhere—on names spoken carefully, lest they be heard, on deals made in hell, on threats I couldn’t yet see clearly enough to destroy.
I wanted to enjoy this quiet moment with Serenity. To sit here in the morning light, eating breakfast like we had in the past, pretending demons weren’t circling our family. Before I had to return to my office and spend hours trying to piece together Balthazar’s plans from fragments and rumors.
Serenity glanced over at me as she took a bite of her gravy and biscuit. Her eyes—those perceptive blues eyes that aways saw too much—studied my face. “What’s wrong?”
I forced myself to take another bite, buying time. “Nothing.”
“Angelo.” Her tone said she wasn’t buying it. “Did you find out something about Balthazar?”
Of course she’d noticed. I couldn’t hide anything from her—shouldn’t even try. The brief peace we’d carved out this morning evaporated.
I set down my fork and met her gaze. “We’re eating breakfast right now. Not discussing him.” I reached over and covered her hand with mine. “I thought you wanted normalcy. Christmas cookies and moments of peace. Let’s have that, tesoro. At least for breakfast.”
Her expression softened, but I could see the worry lingering in her eyes. She knew me too well.
Prudence swept into the room, her practical healer’s dress already impeccable despite the early hour. “Up so early, Serenity?”
Serenity rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. “I slept for almost twelve hours, and I’m starving. I think I’ve earned the right to be awake.”
Prudence moved to the sideboard and poured herself a cup of the chicory coffee, the rich aroma filling the air. “Of course. I just want to make sure you and your baby are doing well after yesterday’s... excitement.” Her gaze swept over Serenity with professional assessment.
The implication stung—that I hadn’t protected them well enough, that yesterday’s ‘excitement’ was somehow my failure.
“They’re fine,” I said, perhaps more sharply than necessary.
Serenity held up her coffee cup, pausing mid-sip to pin me with that look. “What are you not telling me, Angelo?”
I met her gaze steadily. “Nothing that you need to know right now. We don’t know anything concrete yet.”
That wasn’t exactly true. Tinker Bell had discovered traces of a dark spell—ancient, complex, and disturbing in its specificity.
The timing was crucial to whatever Balthazar was planning, but the exact trigger could be anything: the winter solstice in just over a week, Christmas Day, the baby’s birth, even a specific alignment of celestial bodies.
Without more information, we were guessing in the dark.
Too many questions. Not enough answers. And none of it was something I wanted to burden Serenity with while she was trying to find moments of peace before our daughter arrived.
But I didn’t want Serenity to worry.
Not until I knew for sure.
“I thought I smelled biscuits and gravy.” Joy’s voice came from the doorway as she entered the dining room with Enzo at her side.
My jaw clenched reflexively. Seeing her brought it all back—Serenity’s terror, Balthazar’s mocking voice, the way Joy’s shadows had failed when we needed them most. I wanted to say something, to demand answers, but Serenity’s hand tightened on mine in warning. I kept my mouth shut.
Enzo’s eyes immediately locked with mine. I knew that look—sharp, urgent, carefully controlled. He’d found something.
My pulse quickened, but I kept my expression neutral. He slid into a chair next to Joy but wisely didn’t say anything, though I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw was set. Whatever he’d discovered, it was significant.
I gave him an almost imperceptible nod. Later. After breakfast.
I wanted this day to be perfect for Serenity. I didn’t want her to worry about anything except whether the Christmas cookies were burning or if we needed more flour. Just one day of peace before whatever storm was coming crashed down on us.
Joy smiled at Serenity, the shadow of yesterday’s guilt still lingering in her eyes but brightening as she focused on their tradition. “Are you ready to start baking after breakfast?”
“I can hardly wait,” Serenity said, her enthusiasm genuine and infectious. “It’s been so long since you and I baked cookies together.”
“Too long,” Joy agreed. “We have a lot of catching up to do. And a lot of cookies to make.”
I made small talk for the remainder of breakfast, trying not to appear anxious.
Centuries of practice made it easier. But every instinct screamed at me to pull Enzo aside, to find out what he’d learned.
Still, I couldn’t bring myself to leave Serenity’s side—not after yesterday, not when Balthazar could be planning his next move.
And she needed this. Needed Joy, needed normalcy, needed to feel safe enough to laugh over biscuits and gravy. So I stayed, even though impatience clawed at me.
Serenity pushed her plate away with a satisfied sigh. “I’m finished. That was amazing, Elena. Can we use the kitchen now?”
Elena began gathering the empty plates with efficient grace. “Let me clean up from breakfast, ma chérie, then it is all yours. Give me twenty minutes, oui?”
I stood and wiped my mouth with my napkin, avoiding Serenity’s eyes. “I need to return to my office to check on some invoices and information from Crimson Stakes.”
Serenity’s eyebrow arched skeptically. “Crimson Stakes, huh? On a Wednesday morning when you usually handle casino business at night?”
A smile tugged at my lips despite everything. Of course she’d caught that. She always did.
I leaned down and kissed her pouting lips, trying to distract her with affection. “I’ll be back soon, tesoro. Before you even finish the first batch.”
Enzo rose as well, pressing a kiss to Joy’s cheek. “Save some cookies for me.”
Joy’s eyes narrowed. “You’re disappearing too?”
He shrugged with practiced casualness. “Duty calls.”
The women exchanged a look—silent understanding passing between them. They knew we weren’t discussing casino business. They knew we were strategizing about Balthazar.
Enzo and I excused ourselves and headed down the hallway toward my home office. We ran into Gianna and Dimitri coming from the front sitting room. Dimitri took one look at our expressions and sighed heavily. “I guess I’m missing breakfast.”
“Should have gotten up earlier,” Enzo said, but there was no humor in his voice.
Gianna’s eyes sharpened, flicking between the three of us. “What’s wrong?”
“Casino business,” I muttered, already moving past them.
“At seven-thirty in the morning?” Gianna called after us, skepticism clear in her tone.
I didn’t answer. I unlocked my office door and gestured them inside.
Dimitri followed us in. “This is about Balthazar, isn’t it?”
I closed the door firmly behind us. “What did you find, Enzo?”
“Draven Silk called me right before breakfast.”
The name made Dimitri’s eyebrows rise. Draven was a vampire who worked for me—nominally. He managed certain... delicate operations at Crimson Stakes and handled collections for my other ventures. But calling him an employee didn’t quite capture what Draven Silk actually was.
He was a deal maker. When people couldn’t pay their debts to me, Draven stepped in with an offer: an alternative payment plan, a bargain, a way out. And those deals? Unbreakable. Bound by blood magic so ancient and complex the terms became absolute the moment someone agreed.
Draven always had his ear to the ground, collecting secrets and information across every supernatural faction in New Orleans and beyond.
He knew things before they happened, heard whispers in dark places, and somehow always seemed to be exactly where he needed to be to make the right deal at the right time.
I didn’t entirely trust him—no one did. But he was loyal in his own way, and devastatingly effective. And people who made deals with Draven Silk always paid, one way or another.
“What did Silk want?” Dimitri asked, a note of caution in his voice. Even he knew that when Draven called, it meant something significant was happening in the shadows.
Enzo leaned against my desk, his expression grim. “There’s a new player in town. A demon. Goes by the name Vex.”
The name meant nothing to me, but the way Enzo said it—sharp, clipped—told me enough.
“Draven didn’t know much about him,” Enzo continued, “which in itself is concerning. You know Silk—he knows everything. But Vex? All Draven could tell me is that he’s powerful. Very powerful. And that he rose to prominence in hell while Balthazar was caged.”
“Took his place as Lucifer’s second,” Dimitri said quietly, understanding dawning.
Fuck. No wonder his magic had penetrated Joy’s shadows so easily. No wonder he could project illusions through scrying spells. We weren’t dealing with just any demon—we were dealing with hell’s second most powerful being.
“Exactly.” Enzo’s jaw tightened. “Draven suspects Vex has something to do with the payment Balthazar needs—the reason he wants the baby. But he wasn’t sure of the connection.
Whether Balthazar owes Vex the payment, or whether Vex is the one demanding it, or if there’s someone else even higher up the food chain pulling strings. ”
Ice settled in my chest. The distinction mattered—more than they might realize. An employee had limits. A partner had competing interests. But a debtor? A demon in debt was the most dangerous creature in hell, willing to do anything to clear the ledger.
“So we don’t know if Balthazar is working for Vex, working with Vex, or trying to pay off a debt to Vex.”
“Correct,” Enzo confirmed. “But here’s what worries me most—Draven said Vex’s name is being spoken by those who traffic in forbidden knowledge. Not just among demons, but among certain vampires, witches, even fae. Like he’s building alliances. Recruiting.”
Heat flooded through me—rage, pure and primal. My fangs descended and I thirsted for blood. Vex’s blood. “For what?” I demanded.
Enzo met my furious gaze as if he knew we were fighting an uphill battle. “War.”
The word echoed in my mind like a death knell. If angels and demons went to war, Serenity would be hunted by both sides. Our daughter—half angel, half vampire—would be seen as an abomination by some, a weapon by others. There would be nowhere safe. Nowhere I could hide them.
“That’s what we need to find out,” Enzo said grimly. “Whether Vex is gathering forces for an actual conflict, or if he’s planning something else entirely.”
I slammed my fist on my desk hard enough that papers scattered. “Then find out. He might be related to the spell Tinker Bell discovered. No one, but no one, is going to steal my daughter.”
My control was unraveling. I had to get it together for Serenity’s and my daughter’s sake. But a new demon, building alliances, demanding payment—this was supposed to be Christmas. Cookies and laughter and preparing for our daughter’s arrival. Not fighting off hell itself.
Again.