Taming Seraphine

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.

I slide into the seat opposite. “We won’t talk about these assignments until after you’ve eaten.”

Her tension eases, and she picks up her knife and fork. We eat in silence, but I feel her gaze on me as I chew. I update her on what we’ve found out about Gabriel, and she leans forward to soak in my words without making eye contact.

Each time I glance up, she dips her head, her cheeks flaming. It’s hard to reconcile this timid creature with the little devil who held me at knifepoint while grinding on my cock. Or perhaps she’s remembering last night when she begged and pleaded for my touch.

My cock stirs at the memory of her writhing on my lap, her pussy dripping with arousal. I clench the cutlery, trying to force away that image. Our arrangement is not about my desires. Its only purpose is her training. To tame her impulses so she’s no longer destined for the electric chair. Besides, whatever she’s going to reveal next will be traumatic.

The distant rumble of traffic far below us is the only sound as we eat the rest of our breakfast. At this time of the year, Beaumont is crammed with tourists that fill the city with traffic and crowds. Up here in the penthouse, it’s quiet enough for a man to gather his thoughts.

I had planned on training Seraphine using Anton’s methods, but her situation is far more complex than mine ever was. I was never forced to follow Anton’s instructions, and I saw the man as a role model. Any reminder of my mentor might send her into a darker space. And from what I gather from yesterday’s conversation, she’s had no closure.

Seraphine never had a chance to face her abusers because I killed Capello and his sons. Anton is alive and well, but I can’t hand over a father figure for her to execute. Without him to clean up after the death of my stepfather, the state of New Alderney might have tried me in court as an adult and given me life imprisonment or the electric chair.

I owe Anton my life, but does that mean I should protect a predator?

Minutes later, she’s demolished her omelet and finished the last of her juice. I take her plate and set it to one side.

“Tell me about these assignments.” It’s not a request, but she hesitates.

Stiffening, she clenching her hands into fists. “I can’t say.”

“Can’t or won’t?” I ask, my voice gentle.

“You’ll make me leave again.”

“Seraphine.”

Her head snaps up, but she still doesn’t meet my gaze.

“Whatever they forced you to do wasn’t your fault. Do you understand?” I ask.

She clamps her eyes shut as if trying to block out the world. Her breath catches as she gasps for air. Every muscle in her body trembles in double time to the rapid rise and fall of her chest. She’s on the verge of a panic attack.

Sympathy twists my gut as I watch her struggle. I can understand her overwhelming sense of dread. I’ve never had sexual contact with anyone I assassinated. Dealing with Miko was a hundred times easier. At least we had some common ground.

“Let’s try something different,” I say.

I take Seraphine up to the rooftop terrace, an open space with panoramic views of the city. The morning sun shines down on us from a clear blue sky, drenching us in soft light. Concrete flower beds and potted shrubs break up the expanse, turning the space into an oasis of color and fragrance.

I guide her to a shaded corner of paving stones that Miko calls the chill-out zone and lower myself onto the thick mat that’s built into the floor. After indicating for her to sit cross-legged in front of me, I begin.

“Meditation is a technique that has helped me with facing the past. It’s helpful for discipline.”

She sits forward, her pretty features furrowing into a frown. “You think I can’t control myself?”

I raise both brows. “What do you think?”

Her lips pinch into a thin line and the rest of her features tighten into a scowl. “I know what it’s like to want to lash out and drain a bastard’s life with your hands, but that won’t find you Gabriel.”

“And meditation will?”

“Staying calm and detached can make the difference between success or failure.”

She raises a shoulder, still not convinced.

“Close your eyes,” I say.

When she obeys, I talk her through a guided breathing exercise to help her focus on the movement of air through her body. It’s a repeat of the meditation CD Anton made me listen to every morning while I was his apprentice.

Seraphine’s features remain pinched, as though she’s annoyed and thinks we’re wasting time meditating when we should be hitting the streets. She’s oblivious to the fact that she’s spiraling toward being a serial killer.

Hell, I still don’t understand why she stabbed a man in the eye for talking shit, but then, this is the same young woman who murdered eight men when only one of them needed to die.

The world doesn’t take kindly to serial killers even if they started out blameless. The state of New Alderney won’t care that she was twisted and bent and corrupted until her knee-jerk reaction to stress turned deadly. Those who failed to protect a minor are more likely to condemn her for not rising above her abuse, even though such a feat would be impossible. She’s full of righteous anger, but she’s lacking self-control.

By the time the breathing exercise is over, her posture and face have relaxed. It’s going to take more than one session of meditation to calm her mind, let alone soothe her spirit. I hope to hell that wiping out every man who assaulted her mother will give her the peace she needs to lead a murder-free life.

“Well done,” I say. “We’ll do this every day until the habit becomes ingrained.”

She opens her eyes and nods.

“How does that feel?”

“Better,” she sighs.

“Are you ready to tell me about these assignments?” I ask.

She bows her head. “What if you decide you don’t want to help me?”

My breath hitches. Compared to the poker massacre, what could she find so terrible? When she cringes, I remember that Anton trained her as a Lolita assassin. I don’t need to read the Vladimir Nabokov book to guess what the hell that entailed.

“Come here.” I beckon her over.

After a moment of hesitation, she shuffles across the mat, so we’re sitting so closely that I feel the heat of her smaller body.

“Would you prefer to tell me while on my lap?” I ask.

She crawls into my arms and sinks into my embrace. I tighten my grip and dip my head, inhaling her strawberry-scented shampoo.

My heart aches. Having her pressed against me is an unexpected comfort. I want to press a kiss on her temple and whisper that everything will be alright, but I stay silent. No matter how much I want to protect Seraphine, it’s impossible to give protection from her inner darkness.

“Talk.” My stomach twists into a knot of dread, thinking about what she will reveal.

Her situation was horrifying when it only involved the Capellos. Knowing that Anton is in the mix is like a knife to the heart.