Chapter 6
SIX
Bram
The message from Seraphina arrives on Thursday afternoon while I'm steaming milk for a customer's cappuccino.
Seraphina: Are you free Friday evening?
I stare at my phone.
My ears lift before I can stop them.
I wipe my hands on my apron and type back.
Me: I think so. Why?
The three little dots appear almost immediately.
Seraphina: I'd like to take you to dinner.
I read it twice.
Then a third time.
My heart starts beating so hard that I nearly forget the milk.
Another message appears.
Seraphina: It's a date, Bram.
I have to grip the counter.
A date.
Not a scene.
Not Velvet Fang.
Not Mommy and her little boy meeting beneath the club's crimson lights.
A date.
With Seraphina.
I spend the rest of my shift trying not to grin like an idiot.
It doesn't work.
By Friday evening, I'm standing outside the restaurant wondering if I've made a terrible mistake.
The place is beautiful.
Of course it is.
The entrance is framed by enormous black marble pillars, and warm golden light spills through the glass doors. Even the doorman looks expensive, wearing a tailored suit that probably costs more than my monthly rent.
I glance down at myself.
My clothes are nice.
They're just not this nice.
I tug at my jacket.
Maybe I should have worn something else.
Maybe I should have told Seraphina I couldn't come.
Maybe—
"Bram."
I turn.
And forget every thought I've just had.
Seraphina is walking toward me.
She's wearing a fitted black dress that makes her silver hair look almost luminous beneath the restaurant's lights. Her makeup is elegant and understated, but there is something about her face that makes understatement impossible. She looks like she belongs in this place.
She looks like she belongs everywhere.
Her smile softens when she sees me. "You're staring."
"I know."
She laughs. "You look wonderful."
I glance down at myself. "I don't look like I belong here."
Seraphina steps closer. "You belong beside me."
The words settle somewhere deep inside me.
She takes my hand before I can answer. "Come on."
I let her lead me inside. And slowly, the tightness in my chest begins to ease.
Our table is tucked into a quiet corner overlooking the city. The windows stretch almost from floor to ceiling, and the lights of the monster district glitter below us like scattered jewels.
A waiter approaches.
Seraphina barely glances at the menu before ordering several dishes for us.
I look at her.
She catches my expression.
"What?"
"You just ordered everything."
"You have a large appetite."
"I do."
"I know."
I smile.
She smiles back.
For a while, we talk about ordinary things.
My café.
Her latest project.
A ridiculous customer who once demanded a coffee so hot that it technically violated several safety regulations.
But eventually, the conversation quiets.
I look down at my hands.
"I've been thinking about what I told you at the club."
Seraphina's expression becomes gentle.
"About your mother?"
I nod.
Talking about my mother still feels strange.
For most of my life, I've treated those memories like something shameful.
My mother hated what I was.
She hated what my father had left behind.
She hated that she had become pregnant with me after he abandoned her, and she hated that I couldn't give her the wealthy life she thought she deserved.
Whenever I came home with good grades, she asked why they weren't perfect.
Whenever I earned money, she asked why it wasn't more.
Whenever I tried to make her happy, she found some reason I had failed.
For years, I believed that meant there was something wrong with me.
But when I told Seraphina, she didn't look at me differently.
She didn't pity me.
She didn't tell me I needed to forgive my mother.
She simply held me.
And somehow, that had been enough.
"It felt good telling you," I admit.
Seraphina reaches across the table and places her hand over mine.
"I'm glad."
"I didn't realize how heavy it was until I said it out loud."
Her thumb moves gently over my knuckles.
"I think sometimes we don't know how much we're carrying until someone helps us put it down."
I look at her.
"I think you helped me."
Her expression softens.
"You helped yourself by trusting me."
I shake my head.
"No. I mean it. I used to think I had to be useful to deserve affection."
Her eyes remain fixed on mine.
"That's why you cleaned my apartment."
My stomach twists.
I nod.
"The apartment incident wasn't random."
She doesn't interrupt.
"I wanted to become indispensable."
The words feel embarrassing, but I force myself to continue.
"I thought if I could make your life easier, you'd have a reason to keep me around. If I could cook for you, clean for you, make your coffee, take care of things you didn't have time for..." I swallow. "Then maybe you'd need me."
Seraphina's eyes shine.
"You never had to earn your place with me."
I don't believe her immediately.
She must see it on my face because she squeezes my hand.
"You don't have to buy my love."
My throat tightens.
"I don't know how to do that."
"Do what?"
"Just be loved."
Her expression becomes impossibly tender.
"Then we'll learn together."
I look down before she can see how much that affects me.
After a moment, I manage a small laugh.
"I think you're making me cry in a restaurant."
"I've done worse things to you."
I look up sharply.
She is smiling.
I laugh.
"That's true."
Her fingers remain wrapped around mine.
"There's something else I've realized," she says.
"What?"
"When we first reunited, I thought I was simply taking care of you."
I listen.
"I told myself it was part of the dynamic. You were overwhelmed, you needed aftercare, and I knew what you needed because I knew you."
Her thumb strokes my hand again.
"But I discovered something."
"What?"
"I genuinely enjoy nurturing you."
My heart stutters.
"Outside the club, too."
I stare at her.
She looks almost embarrassed.
"I like knowing you've eaten. I like asking whether you're tired. I like making sure you're comfortable. I like hearing you tell me about your day."
Her voice becomes quieter.
"I like taking care of you."
Something warm spreads through my chest.
"I like taking care of you, too."
"I know."
She smiles.
"And I've discovered something else about myself."
"What?"
"I like being trusted."
I think about that.
"You do?"
"Very much."
She pauses.
"Not blindly obeyed. Trusted."
The distinction matters.
I can hear it in her voice.
"I don't want you to stop thinking for yourself because you're with me. I don't want you to obey because you're afraid I'll be angry. I want you to tell me when you're uncomfortable. I want you to tell me when you disagree with me. I want you to choose to trust me."
I squeeze her hand.
"I do."
"I know."
She looks toward the city for a moment.
"I was afraid of you."
I blink.
"Me?"
"Yes."
I almost laugh because the idea is ridiculous.
I'm six-foot-eight, and she's a powerful corporate executive with a siren's voice. But she looks completely serious.
"I was afraid because I had never met anyone who was so willing to give me something without demanding something in return."
I don't know what to say.
She continues quietly.
"Everyone in my life wants something from me. Influence. Money. Access. Status. Attention. Even affection can sometimes feel like a negotiation."
Her gaze returns to mine.
"Then there was you."
I feel my chest ache.
"You were simply happy when I succeeded."
I smile.
"You worked hard."
"I know."
"You deserved to succeed."
Her eyes soften.
"And you never resented me for it."
"Why would I?"
She laughs softly.
"Exactly."
The waiter returns with our food, and for a few minutes we let the conversation pause while we eat.
But the warmth between us doesn't disappear.
It settles.
Becomes something steady.
Something safe.
Eventually, Seraphina reaches across the table again.
"There's one more thing I want you to understand."
"What?"
Her fingers curl around mine.
"You don't have to become smaller to fit into my life."
I stare at her.
She smiles.
"You're Bram. You're a bear. You're enormous. You're soft-hearted. You work at a café. You don't make millions of dollars."
I laugh.
"Thank you for the reminder."
"I like all of those things."
My smile fades.
She brings my hand to her lips.
"I like you."
The simple words hit harder than any grand declaration could have.
"I like you outside Velvet Fang. I like you when you're not being my little boy. I like you when you're making coffee. I like you when you're talking about something you're passionate about. I like you when you're stubborn."
"I'm not stubborn."
She raises an eyebrow.
I smile.
"Okay. Maybe a little."
"A lot."
"Fine."
She laughs.
"And I like that you're kind. I like that you notice when people are hurting. I like that you defended me because you couldn't stand watching someone treat me cruelly."
My chest warms.
"I love you." The words leave my mouth before I can stop them.
Everything becomes still.
Seraphina looks at me.
I feel panic rising.
"I didn't mean to?—"
She stands.
Then she leans across the table and kisses me.
It is gentle.
Warm.
Certain.
When she pulls away, her forehead rests against mine.
"I love you too, Bram."
My eyes close.
For the first time, the words don't frighten me.
They feel like something I have finally been allowed to believe.