The study smelled of polished wood and faint leather, a scent that should have been imposing—but tonight, nothing here intimidated her. Seraphine walked beside me, long dark hair catching the moonlight through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Midnight had a quiet weight over the mansion, yet she moved like the world outside didn't matter. Playful, confident, teasing.
She had the contract in her hand. Black leather cover, gold embossing catching the faint light, and yet she didn't hold it like a threat—it was a prop, an accessory, a challenge.
I studied her carefully. The way she carried herself, the subtle curl of that smirk… she wasn't afraid. That much was clear. And yet, the fire beneath her playful mask promised chaos.
"You know," I said, voice low, measured, "most people would be nervous reading this. You? You look like you're about to rearrange my furniture while signing it."
Her eyes glinted. "I read contracts all the time," she said, leaning casually against the desk. "But this one… let's see if your rules are as clever as mine."
I remained silent, curious. Let her talk. Let her reveal herself.
She opened the contract carefully, fingers brushing the embossed letters. "Alright, let's see," she murmured, voice light but sharp, almost theatrical. "Clause one: I am to… spend one year married to you. Fine, noted. Clause two: I follow the rules and obligations outlined here… hmm." She tapped the edge of the page, eyes scanning mine like she was daring me to react. "Well, here's the thing—I make rules, not follow them. I already have influence, power, and protection. I don't need yours, but I'll play along… on my terms."
I tilted my head slightly, hiding my amusement. She really was fire. And clever. Dangerous in a way that made me focus sharper.
She kept reading aloud, each clause punctuated with a smirk. "Clause three: cooperation in social appearances. Acceptable. Clause four: loyalty. Interesting. I can be loyal… when I want. Clause five: public discretion. Noted. Clause six: responsibilities to your family… hmm. That might be fun." She gave a small laugh, soft, almost mocking, like she was testing the waters and daring me to push back.
Her rules weren't written in ink. They were in her tone, her stance, the way she carried herself. No one controls me. No one commands me. Not even you.
She looks at me playful tha at the book
I cleared my throat, calm but deliberate. "And what of the advantages listed here?" I asked, gesturing toward the clauses about influence, power, protection. "They are not obligations—they are privileges."
She laughed again, light, musical, but with a bite. "Privileges? I make my own privileges."
I studied her as she continued flipping through the pages, her dark eyes catching every detail, every clause she could twist or challenge.
Every now and then, she'd glance up, smirk, and make a teasing comment—like a firecracker tossed in the quiet midnight.
She reached the final page and held the pen delicately. "And here we are. One year. Signed by… me. On my terms, of course." She placed the pen on the desk, her smirk daring me to object.
I let her keep it. Not because I had to. Because I wanted to see her confidence, her control, her playfulness. I watched her close the contract and slip it carefully into her bag, as if it were a sword rather than a sheet of paper. She carries her own rules. She carries her own power. And she wants me to notice.
"You really don't need this," I said softly, not a question, just an observation.
Her smirk widened, almost a challenge. "No, I don't. But it's fun to see how you try."
There was a beat of silence. The quiet tick of the clock, the subtle creak of the leather chair beneath me, and her steady, deliberate breath.
I took a step closer. "You're unlike anyone I've ever encountered," I said low, deliberately calm. "Sharp. Dangerous. Clever. You hide fire beneath playfulness, and yet you think you can mock me."
She tilted her head, eyes bright, dark, challenging. "Mock? I'm testing. You need to pass, and so far…" She paused, letting the words hang like a teasing threat. "…you're interesting."
I allowed the tiniest smile, barely there, and let my gaze hold hers. She didn't flinch. Good. She should not.
"One year," she said again, voice soft but confident, slipping the contract into the strap of her bag. "Let's see who bends first."
She stands up, ready to go, I check the clock, 1:40 am "stay, it's dangerous by this time."
She laughs and walks out
Interesting,
She wants afraid of the dark, she really has changed
I thought.
She's fire, she's clever, and she's mine for the next twelve months—though she doesn't know it yet.
The moonlight caught the edge of the desk, glinting off the ink. Midnight had passed. Outside, the city slept. Inside, the game had just begun
SEREPHINA POV
The drive back was quiet, the city lights blurring into streaks as I navigated the empty streets. Midnight had a strange way of bending time—tonight, the air smelled faintly of rain, cool and clean, like the world had paused just for me.
A copy of the contract rested heavily in the passenger seat, its weight a curious comfort. I kept one hand on the wheel, the other brushing against its leather cover. Each person should have a copy of it.
One year. One absurd, infuriating, exciting year. My rules, my terms, my power… and yet, Dante's eyes had lingered on me longer than they should have.
Interesting, I mused. He thinks he's watching me, but who's really observing who?
I allowed a smirk to curl my lips. One year to test him, to see just how much fire he could handle without burning himself. He was calm, composed… dangerous in the way that made every instinct in me tingle. And yet, he hadn't touched the contract. He hadn't tried to intimidate me. He'd simply… watched.
The hum of the engine was my only companion until my phone vibrated sharply against the leather console. Tiger. I answered before even glancing.
"Boss," his voice came through, low and urgent, a whisper cutting through the calm of the night. "You need to hear this. The President's moving. He's planning something… and it's not subtle."
I let out a small hum, eyes on the road, never breaking rhythm. "Go on."
"There's a meeting tonight at one of his safe houses. Big security, multiple arms, the usual… but he's bringing someone you need to know about. I don't have full details yet. But it's calculated. He's trying to corner someone—or something. Could be Liam."
I pressed my lips together, fingers tightening on the wheel. Figures. The President's reach was always more than appearances. And Liam… well, the ex-boyfriend's disappearance had never been simple. "Keep tracking. Every move, every detail. I want a full readout by morning."
"Yes, Boss. And—he's also moving resources into downtown. Could be preparation for something bigger. And…" Tiger hesitated for a second. "And they're asking questions about Mask Girl."
My heart skipped—not for the first time. Mask Girl was my other life, the one Dante didn't know. My empire. My secrecy. My vengeance and control. "Keep me updated. All of it. Every whisper, every shadow," I said smoothly.
"I will. Just… be careful, Boss. They're getting bold."
I smirked, low and amused. "Boldness can be fun if it's misplaced."
Tiger clicked off, and the silence in the car returned, punctuated only by the hum of tires against asphalt. I glanced at the contract again, running my fingers across the cover as if it could tell me secrets. One year. One contract. A stranger, a powerful man, and rules that were supposedly binding.
I laughed softly, a sound that was both playful and dangerous. "One year, Dante," I murmured, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror as if I could already see him there, watching, amused. "Let's see who bends first."
By the time I reached home, my mind had already begun cataloging possibilities, contingencies, and the inevitable friction this "marriage" would bring. My life wasn't about being ordinary. It was about control, power, and always staying three steps ahead. Dante Moreau had no idea what he'd signed up for—and that was exactly how I liked it.
The black-and-white facade of my house loomed in the quiet night, warm lights spilling onto the driveway. It wasn't a mansion, but it was mine. Strategic, functional, secretive… much like me.
I parked, placing the contract carefully on the passenger seat beside me, a silent promise that tomorrow, when the sun rose, the game would continue. But tonight… tonight, I allowed myself a quiet smirk.