Sunlight filtered through the east dining room windows like it belonged there. Warm, golden, clean. It lit the room in soft amber, catching on the polished silverware and bouncing off the crystal glasses like something out of a film.
Tiffany was already halfway through a croissant, legs tucked under her like a cat, a glass of juice beside her that had been refilled twice since we sat down.
"Sheesh," she muttered with a grin. "Do the forks clean themselves too?"
"I wouldn't be surprised," I said, sipping coffee that somehow stayed the perfect temperature.
At the head of the table, Seraphine sat with the kind of poise people were born—or cursed—with. Her robe was midnight blue silk, cinched at the waist, collar low. Not indecent. Just... impossible to ignore. Her hair was up again, but soft curls framed her face like they did it by choice.
One of the butlers refilled her tea. She murmured a thank you in perfect French.
"So..." Tiffany leaned her chin on one hand. "How'd you guys meet?"
I tensed.
Seraphine didn't miss a beat. "Your brother broke into my house."
Tiff blinked, eyes round. "What?"
"Really more of an accidental trespass," I muttered.
She turned fully to me. "You didn't tell me that."
"Didn't seem relevant."
"Oh, it's extremely relevant," she said, smirking. "What were you trying to steal?"
Seraphine raised her teacup. "Antiques."
Tiff cackled. "Oh my God. You flirted with her?"
I frowned. "I was bleeding, cold, and carrying a crowbar. That's not exactly romantic."
"That depends on your audience," Seraphine said smoothly.
Tiff pointed her fork at me. "So you kissed."
"Is this breakfast or an interrogation?"
"I'm seventeen. I'm nosy. Same thing."
I hesitated. "Yeah. We kissed."
"Just kissed?"
Seraphine's gaze slid to mine—smoldering, amused. "He was very thorough."
Tiff's face exploded into a shriek of laughter.
"OH MY GOD, Cass. Ew. Okay, no, I changed my mind. I don't want to know."
"Then stop asking."
"I thought it was just a thing," she said, looking between us now. "But... are you guys, like, together?"
I opened my mouth, but Seraphine beat me to it.
"Your brother's very stubborn," she said. "But he's mine."
My stomach twisted—warm, complicated, kind of like pride and fear had a kid together.
Tiff narrowed her eyes. "Okay, but what do you do?"
Seraphine's fingers curled around her cup. "This villa is my home. I manage it. Host a few gatherings. Collect valuable things."
"Like... art?"
Seraphine's smile barely moved. "Sometimes."
Tiff leaned forward. "Do you have a job?"
"She doesn't need one," I said.
"I wasn't judging."
"I invest," Seraphine added smoothly. "Real estate. Antiquities. Old things that grow in value."
Tiff squinted at her. "You sound like you stepped out of a 19th-century drama."
"I stepped out of worse," she said with a wink.
Another butler came by with warm scones and fresh berries. Tiff grabbed one, still giving Seraphine that sharp, teenage once-over.
"You're kind of intimidating," she said around a bite.
Seraphine chuckled. "Only to people with bad intentions."
Tiff snorted. "And Cass has great ones, right?"
I choked on my coffee.
"I like her," Seraphine said, glancing at me.
"She's seventeen," I muttered.
"Exactly."
Tiff rolled her eyes, grinning. "Well, this place is kind of insane, but it's better than our last flat. I'm not complaining. As long as I get my own room, and no one makes me wear corsets or anything, we're good."
Seraphine gave her a mock bow. "Welcome home."
Tiff beamed.
And for a second, everything felt normal.
Almost.
-----------------------------------------------------
Tiff had vanished deeper into the villa after breakfast, still nursing a second cinnamon roll and trailing questions in her wake.
I didn't blame her. The place was a dream if you didn't know better.
I wandered, not far, until I found Seraphine near the sunlit corridor that faced the courtyard. She stood framed in the tall window, her robe caught by the light, her hair loose around her shoulders like she hadn't bothered with appearances—just woke up like this: lethal, beautiful, and unbothered.
I hovered by the doorway. "You didn't seem fazed by all her questions."
She glanced over her shoulder. "I've had centuries of practice."
"You like her."
"She's bold," she said with a small smile. "And she has your eyes. The sharp part. Always watching."
I stepped closer. "You didn't have to take both of us in, you know."
"I didn't do it to be kind," she said. "I did it because I wanted to."
"For me?"
"For you." She turned fully now. "Though she's growing on me."
I rubbed the back of my neck. "Look, I've been here more than once now and it's—surreal. You're surreal. The house is alive. There's a music room that sings when no one's in it. I've had sex that rearranged my ability to think."
She raised a brow, amused. "And?"
I leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "And I'm starting to think you've got a habit of collecting pretty things."
Seraphine turned, slow and graceful, her silk robe catching the light just right. "Do you think you're the first pretty thing I've kept in this house?"
I smirked. "Am I?"
Her smile curved like a blade. "The first who talks back this much."
"Can't help it. My mouth gets me in trouble."
She looked me over, eyes lingering where they shouldn't. "Mm. Your mouth gets you out of it, too."
That heat flared low and familiar. I pushed off the wall and took a step toward her. "You always flirt this hard before noon?"
Seraphine hummed, drawing a slow line down the windowpane with her finger. "Darling, I'm six centuries old. I don't care what time it is. If I want something, I take it."
"And what is it you want right now?"
She didn't answer right away. Just tilted her head and let her gaze wander — slow, unapologetic.
"You," she said, finally. "But with fewer clothes and a better attitude."
I laughed. "I thought you liked my attitude."
"I tolerate it. Like one tolerates a sharp knife — useful, dangerous, and better when pointed at someone else."
I stepped closer, until I could smell the jasmine on her skin and the cool metal scent beneath it.
"You're in a mood."
"I'm always in a mood," she said. "But you—" her finger traced the collar of my shirt, just brushing my throat "—you've been sulking since breakfast."
"Wasn't sulking."
"Pouting, then."
"I don't pout."
"You do," she whispered, leaning in, "and it's very pretty."
I bit back a grin. "You really don't get tired of teasing me, huh?"
"Oh, I do," she said with mock-exhaustion. "But the view is worth it."
She turned to walk down the corridor, hips swaying just a little more than necessary. Over her shoulder, she called, "Come on, Cassian. If you're going to be my boy toy, you may as well enjoy the perks."
"I prefer kept man."
She laughed. "Then act like one and fetch me something sweet from the kitchen. I'm starving."
I jogged to catch up, brushing her hand as we walked. "You're insatiable."
"Don't flatter yourself. I've just decided to spoil you today."
"And tomorrow?"
She smirked. "Let's see if you survive today first."