SERAFINA'S POV
I hadn't slept since I visited my father. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Bianca's face. And nowadays her life depended on me seducing a man who ate spies for breakfast.
It was 9 in the morning when I got a text.
Safe house. One hour. Come alone. - M
It was from Matteo.
I showered, dressed in jeans, a simple black sweater, and pulled my hair into a ponytail. The safe house was in the industrial district, between the abandoned warehouses. I'd been there a dozen times over the years.
Matteo was already inside when I arrived. He looked the same as always. He'd been my trainer since I was sixteen. He was my handler for every mission since I turned twenty one.
And I knew he'd been in love with me for at least five years now, though he'd never said it out loud. I could tell by the way he looked at me. The way his jaw tightened when my father talked about using me as bait.
"Sera." He stood up when I entered. "Coffee?"
"Please."
He poured two cups and we sat opposite to each other.
"Your father briefed you." Matteo said.
"He told me to seduce Lorenzo Vitale or watch my sister go to prison."
"That sounds like Giovanni. Are you going to do it?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"There's always a choice."
"Not in my family." I sipped the coffee which was terrible. "Tell me about Lorenzo."
Matteo pulled out a file which was full of surveillance photos and reports.
"Lorenzo Vitale. Thirty years old, took over daily operations of the Vitale family three years ago when his father started getting sick. He'll officially inherit in six months."
He spread photos of Lorenzo across the table. In every photo, he looked dangerous.
"He's smart." Matteo continued. "Doesn't trust anyone except maybe Marco Santoro, his enforcer. They grew up together."
"Weaknesses?"
"I don't think he has any. But he collects art, genuinely cares about it. It's the only thing he seems passionate about besides survival."
"Women?" I asked.
"He doesn't keep mistresses. An ex- finance Valentina but they broke up. No serious relationships since then. A few one night stands over the years, but nothing that lasted." Matteo's expression darkened. "He's not a good man, Sera. He has k*lled people personally. He's ruthless."
"So am I."
"Not like him." Matteo looked at me. "You do this work because of your father. Lorenzo doesn't feel remorse, doesn't hesitate. He's…"
"A psychopath?"
"Probably. He won't be easy to fool. If he suspects you're anything other than what you claim…"
"He'll k*ll me. I know." I looked at him. "But if I don't do this, my father will sacrifice Bianca. So I don't really have a choice, do I?"
Matteo was silent for a moment.
"You could run. Both of you. I could help…"
"No."
"Sera…"
"Running just delays the inevitable. My father would find us. You know he would." I stood up and walked towards the window.
I felt Matteo standing behind me.
"I don't want to send you into this. If something happens to you…"
"Nothing will happen to me. I'm good at this."
"Lorenzo Vitale isn't like the others."
I turned to face him. I could see the concern in his eyes.
"Matteo, I'll be fine.
"You can never be sure."
"But I can prepare. That's why you're here. Train me. Tell me everything I need to know."
He stared at me for a moment. Then nodded, stepping back.
"Alright. Let's start with his patterns..."
We worked for hours. Matteo told me about Lorenzo's schedule, his habits, his preferences. Where he ate, where he lived, where he felt safe. His relationship with his father, his siblings, his organization. By noon, I had his complete profile memorized.
Lorenzo Vitale: brilliant strategist, cold executor, art lover. Valued control above everything. Hated being manipulated. Impressed with intelligence and skill, not flattery.
"Your cover is solid." Matteo said as we wrapped up. "Sera Moretti, art student from Florence, orphan, no family connections. We've built it for two years. It'll hold up to background checks."
"Unless he digs deeper."
"If he digs deeper, we have layers. School records, bank statements, social media history going back five years. It's bulletproof."
"Nothing is bulletproof."
"We have done our best." Matteo handed me a phone. "Burner. Only I have the number. Check in every day. If you miss a check in…"
"You assume I'm compromised. I know the protocol."
He also handed me a small silver pendant.
"Tracking device. Wear it always. If something goes wrong…"
"You'll know where to find my body."
"Don't joke about that."
I looked at him.
"Thank you, Matteo, for everything."
"Be careful. Lorenzo Vitale is dangerous. But you're dangerous too. Don't forget that."
"I won't."
I left the safe house with a file full of information, a tracking device around my neck, and the weight of my sister's life on my shoulders.
I drove straight to the church. This was where the Rossi family came for confession. Father Tomás had been our family priest for as long as I could remember. He knew what we did.
The church was empty when I entered. The confessional booth was in the back corner.
I entered inside, closed the door, knelt on the wooden bench.
A moment later, I heard Father Tomás sitting in his side of the booth.
"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned." I began.
"Serafina." His voice was warm. "What troubles you, my child?"
"My father has given me a dangerous mission."
"Your father gives you many dangerous missions."
"This one is different." I pressed my forehead against the wooden screen. "He wants me to seduce a man. Get close to him. Betray him. Maybe get him k*lled. And if I refuse, my sister will pay the price."
"So you feel you have no choice."
"I don't have a choice."
"There is always a choice, Serafina. Free will is God's greatest gift."
I laughed bitterly.
"Free will. In my family, the only free will is my father's."
I was quiet for a moment.
"I'm scared." I admitted. "Not of dying. I've made peace with that. But I'm scared of becoming something worse than I already am, of losing whatever small piece of my soul I have left."
"Your soul is not so easily lost."
"You don't know the things I've done."
"I know enough. You carry a heavy burden, child. But remember even in our darkest moments, we can choose differently." Having said that, he got up and left, making me even more confused.
TWO DAYS LATER
I spent the next two days becoming Sera Moretti. It wasn't hard. I'd been building this identity for years. I had an apartment in Florence under that name, a bank account, a portfolio of artwork. I'd actually attended art classes, sold pieces.
I rented a small studio apartment in the city under Moretti's name, filled it with art supplies, half finished paintings, books on Renaissance techniques. I made it look real.
I studied Lorenzo's gallery, memorized the layout, researched the artists who showed there, the type of work he preferred, prepared my paintings to match his taste.
My phone buzzed. It was a text from Matteo:
Elena from the gallery contacted you. She wants to meet tomorrow to discuss placement. You're in.
Tomorrow. One day before the opening. One day before I walked into Lorenzo Vitale's world.
I texted back:
Understood.
LORENZO'S POV ( SAME DAY)
I couldn't stop thinking about the photograph.
Three days had passed since it arrived. It was Wednesday afternoon. Two days until the gallery opening. I was in my office reviewing final details when Elena knocked.
"Mr. Vitale? Do you have a moment?"
"Come in."
She entered with her tablet.
"I wanted to brief you on the artists for Friday. Make sure everything meets your standards."
"I trust your judgment."
"I know, but you should still see the pieces before the opening." She showed me images on her tablet. "The Moretti paintings arrived yesterday. They're exceptional."
I glanced at the screen. She was right. The paintings were perfect exactly the kind of work I appreciated.
"She's talented." I admitted.
"She's also eager to meet you. I mentioned you'd be at the opening and she was thrilled." Elena smiled. "She's young, in her mid twenties, and is very passionate about her work."
I paused.
Young. Mid twenties.
My eyes moved towards my desk drawer where the photograph was.
"Have you verified her details?" I asked.
Elena looked surprised.
"Of course. Sera Moretti, twenty six, from Florence, studied at the Academy, sells work through a small gallery there. There's no criminal record, no concerning connections."
"Family?"
"Orphan, raised by her grandmother who died two years ago. No living relatives."
Perfect cover for someone with something to hide or genuine truth.
"Do me a favor. Arrange her file for a complete background check."
Elena's eyebrows rose.
"Is there a problem?"
"No. Just due diligence."
She nodded, making a note.
"I'll have it by tomorrow."
After she left, I opened my desk drawer, and pulled out the photograph. I called Marco.
"I need you to look into someone." I said. "Sera Moretti. Artist from Florence. Elena will send you the file. Just check her out. Quietly."
"You think she's connected to the warning?"
"Might be."
"Okay. I'll check."
I hung up and stared at the photo.
If Sera Moretti was the woman in the photo, that meant someone had sent me advance notice of her arrival.
But why? To help me? To test how I'd react?
And if she wasn't the woman in the photo, I was wasting resources on an innocent artist.
There was only one way to find out. Wait until Friday. Meet her in person, and to see if my instinct was right or not.
SERAFINA'S POV (Thursday Night)
I stood in the gallery, surrounded by my paintings. Elena had given me the main wall.
"Ms. Moretti?" Elena appeared beside me. "Everything look good?"
"Perfect. Thank you for this opportunity."
"Thank Mr. Vitale. He's very selective about his artists." She smiled. "He'll be here tomorrow evening. I'm sure he'll want to meet you."
"I look forward to it."
Elena left to manage other things. I stood alone in the gallery, looking at my paintings on the wall.
Tomorrow night, I would meet Lorenzo Vitale.
My phone buzzed. It was a text from my father:
Don't fail me, daughter.
I took a breath.
Tomorrow I would be Sera Moretti. Tomorrow I would seduce a viper, and pray I didn't get bitten.
LORENZO'S POV (Same Night)
Marco called at midnight.
"The background check on Moretti is too perfect."
"Explain."
"Everything checks out. School records, bank statements, social media going back five years. It's too perfect like someone built an identity from scratch."
"Or she's just a normal person with a normal life."
"Maybe." Marco didn't sound convinced. "But my gut says otherwise."
Mine too.
"What do you want to do?" Marco asked.
I looked at the photo on my desk.
"Nothing. Let her come to the opening. Let her think she has fooled me."
"And if she's dangerous?"
"Then we'll find out what she wants." I smiled coldly. "And then we'll decide if she leaves the gallery alive."