He Called Me His Bedmate

I nodded, and my mother deftly changed the subject.

"By the way, Sera, Dylan's fiancée is coming over later. The Don and Donna are serious this time. I heard Dylan has been preparing for this alliance for weeks."

"He said Genevieve might feel a bit constrained, so if you're there, as a peer, she might feel more at ease. Donna Isabella and I are like sisters. You..."

She trailed off, her expression uneasy.

"Don't worry, Mamma," I said, forcing a smile. "I get it. I'll be on my best behavior and won't say a word out of line."

My mother looked at me with a quiet, sympathetic gaze.

She had seen the photos of Dylan and me in my room, the Browning he gave me—his name engraved on the side—that I treasured in my safe, and the plans for our future we had scribbled down on paper.

How could she not understand?

We walked home in silence. As I opened the door, I said suddenly, "After this all blows over, let's request a transfer to Miami."

My mother froze. I smiled and linked my arm with hers, feigning a playful tone. "Haven't you been talking for years about wanting to expand the business there? I'm not that ambitious anyway. Managing our branch there and being with you and Dad would be perfect for me."

This time, sitting in the living room of the Marcone estate with my parents felt utterly alien.

Every time I'd come here before, Dylan and I would sneak away for a secret rendezvous.

The last time, we even used the excuse of discussing a deal to hide in his study, only to end up tangled together on his desk.

But this time...

"Oh, Elena, you have no idea what that boy has sacrificed to make this alliance happen," Dylan's mother, Isabella, said in a low voice. "He didn't have to make so many concessions, but he insisted on welcoming the Valentis with the utmost respect. Don Lorenzo even had to call in a favor he’d sworn he’d never use, just to secure this meeting."

I glanced around the meticulously decorated estate, filled with white irises to symbolize the alliance.

There were cigars, top-shelf whiskey, and refreshments on every table.

Even Dylan's Doberman, which he kept as a guard dog, was wearing a silver scarf.

Dylan stood before a floor-length mirror, adjusting his tie again and again, ensuring he looked impeccable.

The irony was that just last night, we were tangled in his bed, his lips lingering possessively on the scar on my waist. The very cufflinks he was wearing were a pair I had picked out for him.

"It's such a shame," Isabella said, shaking her head and taking my mother's hand. "When we were young, we dreamed of our families being joined. We even joked about betrothing them as children!"

She glanced at me, her tone gentle. "I've always been so fond of Sera. Such a wonderful child. Strong, loyal, decisive..."

I lowered my head, not daring to make a sound. I was afraid that if my focus slipped for even a second, the tears would start to fall.

Dylan's brow furrowed in clear annoyance. "Mamma! You said it yourself—those were your ideas, not mine. Since you and Elena are so close, why don't you two get married? What does that have to do with me? What era are we in? Stop bringing up those outdated arrangements."

He spoke with no regard for his elders.

"Seraphina," he said, his tone sharp and cold, as if our mothers' conversation was my fault. "Where is that ring my mother gave you?"

I didn't answer.

He strode over, grabbed my hand, and held it up for all to see. "This signet ring. The one that symbolizes the future matriarch of the Marcone family. I just don't want Genevieve to see it and get the wrong idea."

The moment he finished speaking, my father, Marco Rossi, and Don Lorenzo both froze mid-sip of their whiskey. Even my mother, who had been trimming flowers for Donna Isabella, stopped dead.

The air in the room grew thick with tension.

My mother glanced at me, then slammed the vase and gold shears onto the table with a loud clang. She shot up from her seat, but Isabella grabbed her arm first.

Then, Isabella turned, stepped between Dylan and me, and gave him a hard shove. "Dylan! What are you doing?"

"Your marriage alliance with Genevieve hasn't even been formally announced. Besides, have you forgotten? When you were twenty, you knelt on the ground, crying and begging Sera to wear that ring!"