Taming Seraphine

LEROI

Seraphine and I walk the few blocks from the park to the boutique Rosalind used to rave about before she became so bothersome. According to her, its owner sources the best nightclub attire.

After warning her on the walk here that there would be consequences for bad behavior, Seraphine and the sales clerk disappear behind the fitting room door to try on a handful of dresses.

My phone buzzes with an incoming call. It’s Rita, the firm’s coordinator and customer service woman.

“The client is getting impatient and wants to know if you’ve made progress tracking down the Capello killer,” she says before I have a chance to say hello.

A corner of my mouth lifts into a smile. Joseph Di Marco already got the answer to that question right before I shot him between the eyes.

“Still working on it,” I say to placate her. “Is there anything else?”

She huffs. “That’s not good enough. What exactly should I tell him when he calls back in ten minutes?”

Wait.

What?

My gaze darts toward the fitting room. There are no blood-curdling screams or suspicious red liquid seeping through the door, so I proceed toward the exit.

I step outside into the street, letting the rumble of traffic muffle my side of the conversation. If Joseph Di Marco wasn’t the man who commissioned the hit on the Capello killer, then who did?

Every high-ranking member of Frederic Capello’s organization would have benefitted from the death of their boss. I can’t see who would waste money on avenging the worthless bastard.

“When did the client call?” I ask, my brows hitching.

“Just now.” Her voice is hard. “He was extremely agitated.”

Not surprising, if he just discovered that Capello’s lawyer was murdered. Who else was close enough to the family to want to avenge their deaths? The illegitimate daughter? I shake off that thought. Roman said she was a visual artist and implied that she’d lived apart from her father. It couldn’t be her.

It could be Samson’s fiancé, Joseph Di Marco’s daughter. She might have convinced her father to put out the hit, but how much can a woman love a psychopath with a rotted dick? I shake off that idea. Rita said the client was male.

“So, what should I tell him?” Rita asks.

“One of my informants recognized a contract killer walking through the Capello Casino a week before the murders,” I lie, hoping it would satisfy her and the mystery client. “I’m following up on leads to find out who hired him.”

Rita’s exhaled relief eases a little of my tension. “Good. I’ll tell him.”

“Let the client know the assassin will need a lot of persuasion to release those details. It’ll take time to track someone who doesn’t want to be found.”

“Alright.”

I hang up, my jaw clenching so hard that my molars grind. That bullshit I just rattled off might just buy me enough time to find this mystery client and kill him before he gets tired of waiting and contracts a rival firm to find out who murdered the Capello family.

After a cursory glance through the boutique’s window and finding no sign of Seraphine and any ensuing mayhem, I send a text to Miko.

Di Marco transferred funds on behalf of the real client. Monitor Rita’s phone and find out who just called her. Client plans on calling her back in a few minutes.

Miko sends a shocked emoji, followed by:

Shit. OK.

I rub at my temple. There’s nothing left to do but wait for Miko to work his magic. Any preemptive murders might lead to getting caught. I can take care of myself, but I need to protect Miko and Seraphine.

When I don’t hear from Miko in the next few moments, I assume he’s busy hacking the phone records to trace whoever’s about to call Rita. I return to the store just in time to find the door to the fitting room swinging open.

Seraphine steps out clad in a gold mini dress that showcases her slender legs. The fabric gathers around the breasts, accentuating her cleavage, and cinches at her tiny waist. Her sandals are heeled, with two golden straps holding her pretty little feet to the shoe leather.

My breath catches in my throat at the sight of her radiance. Her contact lenses reflect the gold material, creating an effect I can only describe as otherworldly. If she’s the sun, then I’m Icarus, flying close for a kiss of her gleaming rays. She looks like a fallen angel, the kind that lures men to their deaths.

I should know better than to succumb to her fatal allure.

“What do you think?” She turns in a slow circle, giving me the full view of her delicate curves.

Without meaning to, my eyes trace every inch of her body before settling on her face. Not even the knowledge that she would blind a man for looking at her the wrong way could stop me from being awestruck by her beauty.

“Leroi?” she asks, her gaze fixed on mine.

“You look perfect,” I reply, my voice rough.

She steps toward me, her hips swaying. I force my eyes on hers, but they keep wandering down to her neckline. It takes every effort to remember that Seraphine isn’t like other women. Every move, every glance, every inch of her being, was crafted to ensnare my soul.

“Perfect for what?” she asks.

My heart races, but I keep my features in a blank mask. I lean down and whisper close to her ear, “Perfect for attracting every horny fucker with eyes.”

“What if they’re rude?”

“If anyone gets too close, I’ll be the one gouging out the eyeballs.”

She glances at me through the mirror. “Really?”

I nod. “Get dressed. Pick a few more outfits similar to this one, and we’ll go back to plan the rest of our week.”

Seraphine sashays back to the fitting room. I’m so mesmerized by the sway of her hips that I don’t even think to ask about the missing sales clerk.

Some women are so stunning they can get away with murder. Seraphine is one of them–at least with me. But I’m not so captivated by her beauty to believe it’s enough to guarantee her survival if she ever gets caught by the law. That’s why I can’t allow myself to get distracted.

My phone buzzes, and I glance at the screen. It’s a message from Miko.

I tracked the calls to Rita’s phone to a digital SIM that’s already deactivated. Whoever Di Marco helped to pay for that job knows what they’re doing.

Shit.

Most clients aren’t so tech savvy.

He sends another message:

What should I do next?

That’s an excellent question. If I don’t eliminate this Capello sympathizer, I risk losing everything, including the two people I most want to protect.

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.