The city didn't welcome her.
It watched.
Tall buildings cast long shadows over the streets, lights flickering like distant warnings rather than comfort. This wasn't De Luca territory—
Which meant one thing.
Every step here—
Was a statement.
Seraphina stepped out of the car without hesitation.
Her presence alone shifted the atmosphere.
Men stationed outside the building straightened.
Eyes tracking her.
Not openly hostile.
But cautious.
Because they knew.
Or at least—
They had heard.
The doors opened.
And she walked in.
The room was already full.
Not crowded—
But occupied.
Carefully.
Strategically.
A long table stretched across the center, polished to perfection. Around it sat men who had built empires from nothing… and others who had inherited them and made them stronger.
Old money.
Old power.
Danger wrapped in calm expressions.
Conversations died the moment she entered.
Not loudly.
Just—
Stopped.
Eyes turned.
Measured.
Weighed.
Because she was young.
Too young.
And yet—
She walked like she belonged.
Like she had nothing to prove.
That alone—
Was enough to unsettle them.
Seraphina didn't rush.
Didn't acknowledge them immediately.
She walked to the empty seat at the center side of the table—
And sat.
Only then—
Did she look up.
"…Shall we begin?" she said calmly.
A ripple passed through the room.
Subtle.
But present.
Because she didn't ask for permission.
She assumed it.
One of the older men leaned back slightly.
"You speak boldly for someone so young."
Seraphina met his gaze.
"And you speak slowly for someone with limited time."
Silence.
Then—
A low chuckle from another corner.
"…I like her."
Of course he did.
Confidence always entertained those who had it.
Or threatened those who didn't.
The conversation began.
Not openly.
Not honestly.
Because no one at that table trusted anyone else.
But they listened.
And Seraphina—
Spoke.
Not too much.
Just enough.
She laid out the situation clearly.
Matteo's fall.
The instability.
The opportunity.
Her offer wasn't phrased as one.
It was presented as inevitability.
"Stand with us," she said calmly.
"And you remain relevant."
A pause.
Then—
"Stand alone…"
She didn't finish.
Didn't need to.
Because they understood.
Every single one of them.
Power wasn't something you risked losing.
Not when someone like her—
Was offering structure.
Control.
Survival.
The room shifted slowly.
Some nodded.
Some remained still.
But none dismissed her.
And that—
Was already a win.
Then—
The door opened.
Late.
Deliberate.
All eyes turned.
And he walked in.
He didn't rush.
Didn't apologize.
Didn't acknowledge the disruption.
He simply walked in—
Like he owned the space.
And in a way—
He did.
Seraphina's eyes lifted.
And for the first time since entering—
Something shifted in her expression.
Not shock.
Recognition.
But twisted.
Because the man standing there—
Looked like someone she had already killed.
Lucien.
Or—
Someone who shared his face.
The resemblance was undeniable.
Sharp features.
Cold eyes.
But where Lucien had carried a certain restraint—
This one didn't.
This one smiled.
Slow.
Amused.
Dangerous.
"…So," he said casually, stepping further into the room.
"The De Luca heiress finally shows herself."
His voice carried ease.
Too much ease.
Like this was entertainment.
Not negotiation.
Seraphina didn't react immediately.
She simply watched him.
Studied him.
Then—
"…You're late," she said.
Calm.
Unbothered.
The man chuckled.
"I prefer making an entrance."
Of course he did.
He took a seat without invitation.
Leaning back slightly, his gaze never leaving her.
"…Name," she said.
Not a question.
A demand.
He tilted his head slightly.
"…Cassian."
A pause.
Then—
"Cassian Virelli."
The name settled into the room like smoke.
Recognized.
Respected.
Or feared.
Depending on who heard it.
Seraphina's gaze didn't waver.
"…You look like someone I've met before."
A faint smirk.
"Oh?"
A pause.
"Then he must've made quite an impression."
Her voice dropped slightly.
"He died."
Silence.
Brief.
Then—
Cassian smiled wider.
"…Then I suppose I'll have to do better."
The tension shifted.
Sharpened.
Because now—
This wasn't just business.
This was personal.
Cassian leaned forward slightly, resting his arm against the table.
Eyes locked onto hers.
"…You're impressive," he said.
No mockery.
No sarcasm.
Just fact.
"And dangerous."
Seraphina didn't respond.
But she didn't look away either.
"…I like dangerous," he added.
Of course he did.
Men like him always did.
A pause.
Then—
"I'm interested," he continued.
"Not just in your offer."
A beat.
"In you."
The room went quiet again.
Watching.
Waiting.
Because this—
This was no longer negotiation.
This was something else.
Seraphina's expression didn't change.
Didn't soften.
Didn't react.
"…Then you're wasting your time," she said simply.
No hesitation.
No room for interpretation.
Cassian blinked once.
Then—
He laughed.
Not offended.
Amused.
"I figured."
Of course he did.
"But I thought I'd try anyway."
He leaned back again.
Relaxed.
But his eyes—
Still on her.
Still calculating.
Still interested.
"…Your loss," he added lightly.
Seraphina didn't respond.
Because to her—
It wasn't a loss.
And she never gave that away.
Not to strangers.
Not to men who looked like ghosts of the past.
Not to anyone.
The meeting resumed.
But something had changed.
Because now—
There was another player at the table.
One who wasn't just interested in power—
But in her.
And that—
Was far more dangerous.