Page 17 of Chains of Blood and Darkness

As Enzo’s heavy footsteps faded down the hall, I returned to my desk and sifted through the casino’s financial reports. Iscanned the list of names and numbers, mentally calculating all the interest that was piling up on these delinquent debts. It never ceased to amaze me how some people thought they could gamble away money they didn’t have and then refuse to pay up when their luck ran out. A few strong-armed men would need to be sent out to collect what was owed.

“Angelo?” Madame Elena stood in the doorway. “You wanted me to let you know when Serenity was ready. She is in the dining room, and Chef is about to serve her lunch, if you would care to join her.”

“Thank you, Elena. Did you have any trouble with her?”

“None at all; she was very polite. I must say she’s very beautiful, but still, I detected that life hasn’t been that easy for her.”

Over the years, I had come to listen to Elena’s impressions. She had a knack for reading people, and that ability had helped me out more than once.

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

She avoided my gaze and looked down at her red kitten heels as if they were the most interesting thing in the room.

“Elena?”

She lifted her gaze to me and wrung her hands. “I didn’t want to tell you, but the poor girl has dreadful scars on her lower back.”

“From Simon?” The words came out as a growl. My jaw clenched tight and my fists curled, ready to deliver the punishment that bastard deserved.

She shook her head. “No. They’re not that recent.”

“I see. Thank you, Elena.”

Translation: be gentle with her. Well, I would be morethan gentle. I would find out who did this to Serenity, then pay them a little visit.

I stood up from my desk, the wooden floorboards creaking under my weight as I followed Elena out of the office. Serenity sat at a small round table in the dining room, the sunlight streaming in through the window behind her and casting a warm glow on her blue sundress. White daisies were embroidered all along the neckline, and her blonde hair cascaded down her back in gentle waves. Her eyes met mine warily, as if trying to decipher my intentions.

I flashed her one of my most charming smiles. “You look stunning.”

“Thank you,” she replied softly, but there was a hint of sadness and defeat in her voice.

As I took my seat across from her, I felt an unfamiliar sensation stirring within me—a mix of attraction and unease that I couldn’t quite shake off. Ridiculous. I had been with countless women before, each one a forgettable conquest. Yet there was something about the Nephilim that made me feel off-balance, like I was fighting for control in uncharted territory.

I tried to maintain my composure, to view her as just another nameless woman that I would discard when she no longer served any purpose, but even as I told myself this, I found myself drawn to her in a way that unsettled me. Her presence ignited a desire I couldn’t ignore, a longing I was determined to keep carefully concealed behind a mask of indifference.

Chef Gaultier had outdone himself today. He had prepared lobster rolls, their tender meat exuding the rich,succulent scent of the sea and lightly dressed in a delicate, lemon-infused mayonnaise that added a tangy freshness, all nestled within a freshly baked brioche bun. Beside them, the shrimp Greek salad offered a medley of crisp flavors—cucumbers and tomatoes freshly picked from the garden, mingled with the briny sweetness of the shrimp and the sharp bite of red onion. The olives and feta cheese, generously interspersed throughout, added depth with their earthy and salty notes, while a drizzle of olive oil and oregano finished the dish with an herby fragrance.

Chef Gaultier dished up fried potatoes, golden and crunchy, that added a comforting, homey smell to the meal. Each piece was a perfect blend of crispy exterior and fluffy interior, seasoned with a hint of rosemary and sea salt that made them irresistible. The sound of their sizzling as they were laid out on the serving platter still echoed faintly throughout the room.

Yet despite the sumptuous feast that lay before her, Serenity remained motionless, her expression filled with dread and apprehension.

I picked up a napkin and put it on my lap. “Aren’t you hungry?”

She shook her head slightly and looked down at her lap.

“I assure you, the food isn’t poisoned or otherwise doctored. With the drugs that Simon so foolishly gave you, you’ll feel better sooner if you eat something.”

“I’m not hungry,” she said quietly. Such a lie. I could hear her stomach grumbling miserably from here.

I picked up a lobster roll with a pair of tongs and placed it on her plate. “Eat.”

She lifted her eyes to me. “Is that an order?” Her voice was soft, but it still held a challenge, a challenge I couldn’t back away from.

“If you’d like to take it that way. I can’t allow you to damage yourself. You’re too valuable to me.”

She glared at me as if she would like to throttle me, but despite her apparent anger, she delicately picked up the lobster roll and took a bite. As she swallowed, her demeanor softened noticeably, a contented sigh escaping her lips as she savored the taste. The way she delicately handled the roll, the thoughtful pause as she appreciated the flavors, the relaxed ease that washed over her—it was a moment of pure gastronomic delight, captivating in its simplicity.

I watched transfixed as she continued to eat, each bite an alluring display of her enjoyment. Her slender fingers gripped the roll with a gentle yet firm touch, guiding it to her mouth with a grace that I found utterly mesmerizing. Within a few minutes, she had cleaned her plate, leaving me with a hungry desire, not just for the food, but for the woman before me.

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