Page 88 of Taming Seraphine

After thinking the matter through, I type out a response:

Find the funeral home. Whoever’s so invested in avenging the Capello family would have visited them.

As an afterthought, I add:

And hack into Di Marco’s daughter’s phone in case she’s connected to the hit.

I slip my device into my pocket, hoping Miko can find the man who wants me dead before he figures out I killed his precious Capellos. Something about his persistence tells me he won’t be satisfied with only my death.

THIRTY-TWO

SERAPHINE

My heart pounds so loudly that it muffles the music as we approach the entrance of the familiar establishment. Leroi’s hand on the small of my back is the only thing keeping me upright as the guard lets us through the doors of the Phoenix Nightclub.

He doesn’t know this is where it all began. I came to this club, followed by that awful handler, to murder Enzo Montesano, the most powerful criminal in New Alderney. Leroi’s uncle and my first kill.

I haven’t told him the importance of this place because I want to face my demons. If I can get through tonight without killing or maiming anyone, then maybe I’ll be normal for Gabriel… and for Leroi.

“Are you alright?” He slides my jacket off my shoulders and hands it to the coat check attendant.

My insides are quaking too much for me to speak and I don’t want my voice to tremble, so I gaze into his dark eyes and nod.

He leans down and whispers in my ear, “You’re going to be fine. I’ll be right here the entire night, watching your back.”

His words are a balm on my frayed nerves and infuse me with the confidence I need to face the evening. Squaring my shoulders, I stare straight ahead into the dimly lit space, taking in the flashing lights and the sea of bodies jumping to the music. My nose fills with the mingled scents of dry ice and alcohol, giving me the familiar rush of adrenaline that comes before each mission.

The layout has changed in the five years since I was first here. There’s now a cordoned-off section on the edge of the nightclub with its own bar. A guard stands at its entrance, making it clear that it’s a VIP area, but there’s still another door that leads to the room where Montesano’s guard served me drugged champagne.

Crowds part for Leroi as we make our way toward the VIP section. I can’t help but notice the glances we receive from both sexes. Leroi radiates power and not just because he’s tall, muscular, and dressed in a tailored black suit. He stands out with his sharp cheekbones, chiseled jaw, and dark eyes. They’re a deadly combination that signals danger and invites desire.

Leroi is so focused on me, he doesn’t notice that every woman we pass is eyeing him with various degrees of hunger and awe. It’s understandable. Compared to Leroi, every man in the club looks the same.

My skin hasn’t stopped tingling since I stepped out of the fitting room wearing this dress. It’s more revealing than the pastel ones I wore during my missions. Those were designed to make me look younger, innocent, more vulnerable. Tonight’s the first time I’ve been allowed to go out with my dark hair and makeup, and I almost feel like a new woman.

After winding our way through the crowd, we finally reach the VIP section, and the guard steps aside to let us through. Leroi guides me to a table with a great view of the dance floor. As soon as we sit, the man behind the bar rushes forward with a menu.

“Whiskey on the rocks and...” He turns to me.

“Champagne,” I say.

“Make that a Sprite,” Leroi says.

As the waiter hurries back to the bar, I turn to Leroi with a scowl.

“I can handle my liquor,” I say.

He raises a brow.

I lean into his side, keeping my voice quieter than the music. “My handler trained me to handle syringes in any physical state, including inebriation.”

Leroi shifts in his seat, his features pinching.

“What?” I snap, still stinging at the reminder of how he once called my electrocution story bullshit. Leroi acts like I’m feral, as though I didn’t endure six months of intensive and painful training.

“You don’t believe me?” I ask.

“It’s not that,” he mutters.

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