Page 54 of Taming Seraphine

I do as he says, not quite believing I’m making an omelet in a strange apartment and with a hitman who hasn’t laid a hand on me apart from a spanking, even though he’s seen me naked.

Leroi directs me to add some herbs to the bubbling mixture of eggs and vegetables, and the kitchen fills with the scent of cooking.

It’s so surreal that for a minute, I wonder if I’m trapped in a fever dream, still trapped in the basement. I can’t believe I’m free. Dad is dead and so are his bastard sons, but somehow it’s true. Yet I can’t even enjoy this moment because it’s been ages since I saw any footage of Gabriel.

“What’s wrong?” Leroi asks.

“I’m thinking of my brother.”

“We can look through the leads I’ve gathered while we eat.”

“You’ve found something?” I ask.

He nods. “Miko gathered photos of every guard who worked for Capello in the past six years. You should recognize some of them from the night they assaulted your mother.”

My shoulders stiffen, my skin breaks out in goosebumps, despite the kitchen’s heat. I hold my face into a neutral mask and ask, “What about Pietro?”

“The man who took you to your grandmother?” Leroi asks with a frown.

“No, our driver was Felix. Pietro worked for the twins. He’s the one who drove me to my assignments.”

He tilts his head. “Assignments?”

I feel myself pale, every ounce of blood draining from my face and racing toward my frantically beating heart. My spine stiffens, and my empty stomach twists into knots. I’m not supposed to tell anyone what Dad and the twins used me for.

TWENTY

LEROI

Seraphine bows her head, hiding her face. I wait for her to elaborate on these assignments, but she remains silent. Now is the perfect opportunity to find out more about Anton’s methods without revealing I know the identity of her trainer.

Turning off the stove, I place my fingers beneath her chin and lift her face so our eyes meet. Even then, she drops her gaze as if she can’t bear the weight of her shame.

“May I have some chocolate?” she asks. It’s a poor attempt to change the subject.

“I don’t have any. I’m allergic.”

“Oh.” She shuffles on her feet, clutching both hands to her chest.

“After breakfast, you will tell me what you mean.”

Her eyes widen. “You’re going to let me eat?”

“Withholding food was used to control you in that basement?”

She nods.

“I will never hold food over you as a reward or punishment. Is that understood?” I wait for her to nod again before continuing. “Now, fill two glasses with orange juice and take them and some silverware out to the balcony.”

Seraphine scurries off to do as I ask, and I divide the omelet into two portions, my chest tightening with the urge to give her every ounce of my protection. I can’t stop thinking of the videos Miko showed me of powerful men being set up by Capello to perform career-damaging acts in front of cameras.

Did they force Seraphine to put their targets in compromising positions? How could Anton have put a girl into a situation so reprehensible? No women or children. That was the code.

I take the plates through the living room to find her sitting outside at the balcony table with her head still bowed. The morning sun illuminates her hair with a golden halo, making her look even more angelic with the rest of her features in shadow. Ignoring the ache in my heart, I set the plate in front of her.

“Eat.”

She stares down at the omelet, her shoulders hunching. Her posture turns rigid, as though she can’t believe I’m allowing her to eat, despite her withholding information.

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