Page 144 of Taming Seraphine

Leroi gets out and opens my door, snapping me out of my thoughts. I don’t understand why my mind is dredging up such old memories.

We walk hand in hand up stone steps that lead to a set of double doors, passing armed men who acknowledge Leroi’s presence.

I recognize the man waiting in the hallway from the nightclub. Up close, he looks a little like Leroi, with the same piercing dark eyes, olive skin, and broad shoulders. This has to be one of the Montesano brothers. His features are harsher than Leroi’s, as though he’s lived a harder life, and under his shirt are glimpses of tattoos.

“Bringing a girlfriend?” He arches a brow in my direction.

“Apprentice,” Leroi replies.

“Like Miko?” He turns to me, his gaze sharpening and becoming more critical.

This man is nothing like his father. He was a greasy and lecherous old man who deserved to die. He’s the kind of predator more interested in shooting a woman through the head than placing a hand up her skirt.

I straighten, my face forming a blank mask even though my stomach trembles at the thought of him recognizing me as the woman who killed his father.

“I’m nothing like Miko,” I say. “I like to get my hands dirty.”

He cracks a smile.

“This asshole is Roman,” Leroi says. “He’s the oldest brother.”

With a nod, Roman turns on his heel, expecting us to follow. “Cesare’s still in the middle of interrogating the assassin, but I can tell you what we’ve found out so far.”

Now that I’m no longer under Roman’s scrutiny, all the tension leaves my lungs in an outward breath. Leroi tucks me under his arm as we walk alongside the oldest Montesano brother through a house that looks more like a museum.

The entrance hall is four times the height of a regular mansion with a glass atrium that floods the space with natural sunlight. We walk through white marble arches, passing busts of people who look like Leroi and Roman.

I finally get the meaning of old money. It’s a level of class and sophistication that would have eluded a man like Dad. He never had an interest in art, and the only beautiful possessions he ever valued were his women. It’s obvious that the Montesano family has held power for generations.

“Did Leroi tell you this is where he grew up?” Roman asks from Leroi’s other side.

“No?” I glance up at Leroi’s profile, wondering if this was where he shot his stepfather.

“Until I was ten,” Leroi says with a wistful smile. “Then my mother moved us out after my dad died.”

The men fall silent, and I can tell they’re both thinking about the past. Leroi’s grip around my shoulders tightens, and I wrap an arm around his back and give him a gentle squeeze.

I can’t help thinking how shitty it is that parents’ actions can vastly affect the lives of their children. Dad burned with jealousy over Enzo Montesano, so he arranged his death and framed his oldest son for a crime he didn’t commit. And he used me as a killer to pay off Mom’s debt because she slept with our bodyguard.

A door to our left opens and a wild-eyed woman steps out with messed up hair, wearing a silk kimono covered in white dust. Behind her is a mass of broken furniture, glass shards, and smashed vases. I catch a glimpse of slashed paintings and heavy curtains hanging off their rods in tatters.

Our eyes meet, and I do a double take. Isn’t that the one I danced next to at the nightclub?

Her lips part. “Sera?”

“Ember?”

“Are you friends?” Roman asks her.

Ember scowls. “Fuck off!”

Before I can even process what’s happening, she slams the door. As Leroi pulls me away, I hear glass smashing against the wall.

Roman chuckles. “Emberly has a volatile temper, but that comes with being a talented artist.”

I glance over my shoulder, back toward the door where Ember disappeared. What on earth is going on in this mansion? It’s like a reunion from the nightclub. Ember didn’t exactly look like she was here against her will. If she was, she wouldn’t have shut herself up in that room and she certainly wouldn’t smash up expensive-looking antiques.

My mind is still reeling when we reach a room that doesn’t match the rest of the mansion, a gentleman’s study with brown leather furniture and lined with ebony bookshelves. Daylight floods in through floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook manicured gardens and a set of stone steps that lead to an enormous pool.

---