When Shadows Fall in Love

Lucien had always known how to command a room, but today, he commanded Seraphine's attention first. He stood by the edge of their suite's king-sized bed, his posture relaxed yet effortlessly confident, exuding an aura that drew her in. His light-coloured eyes sparkled with mischief, hinting at secrets only he could reveal. The early evening sun filtered through the sheer silk curtains, casting a warm golden hue across the pristine marble floors, which glimmered like polished gems. The air was thick with anticipation, and the gentle rustle of the curtains created a soft symphony that mingled with the distant sounds of the city below, a reminder of the world outside. The suite was elegantly decorated, with plush furnishings and rich textures that spoke of luxury and comfort—an intimate cocoon for the two of them. As the sunlight danced across the room, it illuminated Lucien's chiselled features, highlighting the playful smile that played at the corners of his lips. Shadows flickered across his strong jawline, framing a face that could both charm and disarm. There was something electric about the moment, as if the very air crackled with the promise of adventure, making Seraphine's heart race with excitement.

"My angel," Lucien said smoothly, stepping closer as she emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, her hair cascading like a waterfall over her shoulders. He extended a garment bag as if it held a treasure from another realm. "Wear this tonight. And put on those ruby red Versace heels I left on the dresser. Trust me."

Seraphine raised a brow, eyes flicking between him and the garment bag like it might contain a clown suit. "You didn't tell me we were going anywhere."

Lucien shrugged with a grin, all faux innocence and too much charm for one man. "Did I need to? You look devastating in red, and I happen to like surprises."

She crossed her arms, unimpressed. "Well, I don't. So start explaining."

He placed a dramatic hand over his heart. "Wow. My angel is the first human on Earth—possibly in the galaxy—to hate surprises. This feels like a betrayal."

She narrowed her eyes.

Lucien sighed, mock-offended. "Fine. If you must ruin my elaborate, romantic ambush… it's your brother's ball tonight. I thought, hey, why not sweep her off her feet and show up together like the dangerously good-looking couple we are?"

"You mean ambush me in silk and stilettos and throw me into a crowd of strangers with no warning?" she countered.

"Exactly," he beamed. "I even picked the perfect dress. And shoes. Versace, no less. You think I plan half-heartedly?"

She stared at him, unimpressed.

Lucien clicked his tongue. "Tch. What a pity. I had visions of a dramatic entrance. You, glowing. Me, brooding. Champagne. Applause. Maybe some mild jealousy. But alas... I married a surprise-hater."

Seraphine sighed through a smile, reaching for the garment bag. "If this is your idea of a surprise, I'm terrified to know what you'd call a normal day."

"Oh, don't worry," he said, backing toward the door. "Normal doesn't exist when I'm in love."

"You're such an elegant flirt."

With an eye-roll accompanied by an amused smile, she snatched the bag and retreated into the bathroom, her heart fluttering with anticipation. Lucien grinned to himself, feeling a rush of excitement as he grabbed his own suit and slipped into the guest shower down the hall. After a while, as she delicately fixed her makeup at the mirror, Lucien returned, shirtless, with a towel wrapped around his waist, droplets of water glistening on his skin. The sight of him took her breath away, but she pretended to be focused.

"You know," he began, leaning against the doorframe, his gaze unwavering as he watched her apply her eyeliner with practiced precision, "I've seen less intensity in mafia meetings than the way you're applying that wing."

She laughed softly, her cheeks flushing. "You'd cry if you had to draw two symmetrical wings."

"Touché. But I'd look good doing it," he replied, flashing her a wink in the mirror, his reflection lit up with that dangerous charm. She felt her heart skip, despite her efforts to remain composed.

"That's the hundredth time you've winked today," she remarked, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably.

"Correction: the hundredth time you noticed," he countered playfully, a triumphant glint in his eye. She rolled her eyes again, but he took it as a win, relishing the playful banter they shared.

Soon enough, she emerged from the bathroom, and Lucien's breath caught in his throat. The red tea-length dress sculpted perfectly to her figure, shimmering like liquid fire under the chandelier light. The ruby heels elevated her elegance, giving her the grace of royalty.

Lucien, now dressed in a sleek black suit, a red tie, and a matching red lapel pin, stilled at the sight of her. His heart swelled with admiration.

"My angel…" he murmured, stepping closer, his voice low and filled with awe. "I should cancel the ball. The world doesn't deserve this view."

She smacked his arm playfully, but her cheeks glowed with warmth, reflecting the soft light around them. "Don't you dare. I want to see how many heads I can turn tonight."

He chuckled, circling her slowly, his eyes roving over her with unabashed admiration. "You could turn the entire city into a statue with just one glance. But remember, the moment we step outside, I'll be the one who gets to call you mine."

Her heart raced at his words, a gentle fire igniting within her. "And what if I want to share the spotlight?"

"Ah, but no one shines as brightly as you do," he said, his tone serious now. "You're the sun, and I'm just lucky to orbit around you."

Seraphine felt herself melt, a smile breaking across her face as she stepped closer. "You always know what to say, don't you?"

"It's easy when the muse 1is as breath-taking as you," he replied, his voice deepening as he brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Now, shall we make our grand entrance?"

With a nod, she took his hand, feeling the warmth of his palm envelop hers — firm, grounding, and possessive in a way that made her heart skip. Their fingers interlaced perfectly, like puzzle pieces that had waited too long to finally belong. Together, they moved through the grand foyer of their mansion, heels clicking and leather soles brushing against the polished marble, echoing softly like whispers of elegance. The soft glow of the chandeliers above cast golden light over them as if even the house bowed to the occasion. Lucien reached the door first and opened it with a suave flourish, like a gentleman from an old black-and-white film, but with the smouldering intensity of a man born to command.

Outside, the cool night air swept over them, brushing Seraphine's bare shoulders, making her shiver—until Lucien wordlessly draped his suit jacket over her arms with a wink.

Parked at the foot of the stairs was a sleek matte-black Lamborghini Revuelto, its crimson accents gleaming like molten lava under the moonlight. The V12 purred low, already rumbling with restrained power, and the doors were lifted up like wings — a beast waiting to fly.

Lucien opened the passenger side for her, bowing slightly. "Your chariot, my queen."

Seraphine raised a brow, smirking. "You do know this makes you the dramatic chauffeur, right?"

He grinned. "A devilishly handsome one. With benefits."

She slid in with practiced grace, crossing her legs like a scene straight out of a spy film, and he closed the door gently behind her. Lucien rounded the car and slipped into the driver's seat, his fingers gliding over the ignition. The engine roared to life like a beast unchained. As the gates of their estate slowly opened, Lucien leaned over and murmured against her ear, "Ready to make some hearts stop tonight?"

She chuckled, eyes glinting. "Only if you're one of them."

He revved the engine in response, grinning wide. "Too late. You already own mine."

And with that, the Lamborghini surged forward into the night — two shadows wrapped in fire and silk, burning their path toward the unknown, with the city lights waiting to bear witness to their entrance.

A few hours later...

They pulled up to Asher's penthouse tower—Vade Heights. The valet opened the car door, and the couple stepped out into an evening kissed with the promise of luxury. The penthouse ballroom took up the entire top floor of the skyscraper, offering a panoramic view of the glittering city lights.

Inside, gold-trimmed columns lined the walls. Crystal chandeliers shimmered above a floor of white marble. Velvet-draped tables were decorated with floating candles, fresh orchids, and trays upon trays of decadent appetizers. Caviar, golden crostinis, mini beef wellingtons, and champagne on endless trays floated around on silver platters.

Guests twirled across the dancefloor, some dressed in ballgowns that glittered like constellations. Lucien held Seraphine's hand with quiet pride, guiding her through the room like she was the centre of his universe.

They were laughing near the bar when Seraphine excused herself to get a drink. She returned moments later, glass in hand—only to freeze.

Lucien was by the far wall. A beautiful woman in emerald kissed his cheek.

The laughter died in her throat.

She didn't storm off. She didn't confront him. Instead, she retreated as far away as from him. She stepped quietly into the moonlit garden just outside the ballroom. The air was colder there, calmer. Roses bloomed in neat hedges. A stone bench waited by the fountain. That's where she sat, heart clenched, eyes stinging.

She heard the soft crunch of shoes on gravel. Then a gentle voice.

"Why is my little sister crying on her first royal ball night?"

She looked up to find Asher, arms crossed and concern written in his eyes. She tried to speak but shook her head. He sat beside her.

"Let me guess," he said, looking towards the ballroom. "Lucien's past tried to bite again."

She laughed bitterly. "Something like that."

Meanwhile, inside, Lucien had just noticed the empty spot beside him.

"Has anyone seen my wife?" he asked a waiter.

No one had. He checked the bar, the restroom hallway, even the coat area.

Panic creeping in, he ran outside—and found her in the garden.

Asher had his arm around her shoulder protectively, and Lucien exhaled in relief.

"Seraphine," he called, walking toward them. As he crouched down to her eye level, she turned away, back toward Asher. Seraphine looked up and then looked away and wiped her tears.

"My angel, listen to me—"

But before he could say anything, laughter rang out from the terrace door.

That girl again.

Seraphine turned to look.

The girl kissed Lucien's cheek again.

Time froze.

Lucien hesitated before slightly moving away from her. My little angels jealous. Damn I better not risk it. She already has flames in her eyes.

He cleared his throat, standing up, voice loud and clear.

"My dear sister, will you stop kissing me in front of my already jealous wife?"

Silence.

Then laughter. From guests, from Asher, from even the staff.

Lucien guided the girl forward. "Seraphine, meet Elora Vade Castellano. My older sister."

Seraphine blinked.

Elora grinned. "In my defence, I kissed him before introductions. That's on him."

Lucien coughed. "She's been in the hospital for weeks. Gave birth recently."

"To my adorable, tiny dictator of a son," Elora added. "His name's James Robin. I suppose my dumb brother didn't even introduce my husband, Magnus Robin."

Seraphine finally smiled. A slow, amused one. Elora saw it and looped her arm with hers.

"Come on, let the boys go brood or whatever they do. I need girl talk."

An hour later, the private lounge upstairs had turned into a cozy bubble of female laughter. The nanny arrived with baby James, who looked like a miniature mafia boss in his velvet onesie and tiny gold bracelet.

Seraphine held him in her arms for a while, before returning it back to the nanny, as Elora snacked on chocolate truffles.

"So," Elora began. "Is Lucien still a chronic backhugger who never lets you wash dishes alone?"

"He is. And he talks to my heels like they're alive."

They burst into laughter.

"Boys as husbands?" Elora said, raising her glass.

"Overrated. Except when they're ours," Seraphine replied.

A while later, Lucien and Asher returned—this time with baby James in Lucien's arms.

"He demanded to see his future godmother," Asher teased.

Lucien passed the baby gently to Seraphine, who kissed his forehead with a soft coo. James responded by grabbing her finger tightly, letting out an adorable gurgle.

"He approves," Elora declared with a proud smirk.

Just then, a tall figure in a navy blue suit approached them with the quiet confidence of someone used to command—but with eyes that softened the moment they landed on Seraphine.

"Seraphine," the man said, offering a warm, calloused hand and a charming, polished smile. "Magnus Robin. Elora's extremely lucky husband, and James's slightly less competent father."

Seraphine laughed, taking his hand. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you. I've heard so much—"

"—All lies," Magnus cut in playfully, then turned to Lucien. "Except the ones about Lucien's inability to go a day without talking about you. Those are, tragically, all true."

Lucien scoffed but smiled, wrapping an arm around Seraphine's waist. "At least I have good taste."

"You really do," Magnus said with a sincere nod. Then to Seraphine, "If I haven't said it already, welcome to the family. Elora and I are genuinely lucky to know you."

Seraphine gave him a grateful look, touched by the genuine warmth in his tone.

Asher bowed dramatically and gestured for Elora to follow him to help guide the remaining guests out of the venue.

"We'll be right back," Elora said, giving Seraphine's hand a light squeeze. "Don't let James charm you too much. He's already got Lucien wrapped around his chubby little fingers."

Lucien rolled his eyes. "Takes after his aunt, obviously."

As Magnus chuckled and followed Elora out, Seraphine glanced down at James nestled in her arms—and couldn't help but smile at the soft weight of the tiny life trusting her so fully.

Back in the car...

Now alone, Lucien and Seraphine walked hand in hand down to the car. As they drove away, she turned to him, playful.

"Do you have any more surprise siblings you haven't introduced me to?"

He smirked. "Only Rose and Ethan."

"Who?"

He leaned in. "Our future kids."

She laughed, resting her head on his shoulder.

At home, they changed into cozy nightwear. Lucien lit one of the lavender candles she liked. The city lights outside blinked softly through the window.

Seraphine climbed into bed beside him, sighing contentedly.

He wrapped his arms around her.

"I love you, my angel. Even if you roll your eyes at my winks."

She smiled sleepily. "I love you more. Even if you bring surprise siblings to parties."

The night settled in with soft laughter and warm silence as they drifted into sleep—safe, loved, and whole.