Chapter 5: Unexpected Guardian
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I was sketching in a small piazza near the academy when a familiar voice broke my concentration.
"Your technique has improved already."
I looked up, my heart performing an unwelcome somersault. Cassian Vexley stood before me, as imposing and elegant as I remembered, dressed in a light linen suit that spoke of casual wealth.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, closing my sketchbook too quickly.
"Business in Milan." His smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "Textile suppliers, manufacturing contracts. Purely coincidental."
"For how long?"
"A month, perhaps longer." He sat beside me on the bench, maintaining a careful distance. "How are you settling in?"
I studied his profile, searching for his true motives. "You didn't come to Milan for business. You came to check on me."
His jaw tightened. "Is that so terrible?"
"I don't need a guardian, Cassian."
"No," he agreed, his eyes finally meeting mine. "But perhaps I needed to see that you were truly safe."
Something in his gaze made my breath catch. This attraction between us was impossible—inappropriate, complicated by family connections and age difference. Yet it persisted, growing stronger despite my efforts to suppress it.
"I have class in an hour," I said, changing the subject.
"Then you have time for lunch. There's a place nearby that serves the best risotto in Milan."
Against my better judgment, I agreed.
That lunch became dinner the next evening, which became a private tour of Milan's hidden art galleries the day after. Each meeting carefully orchestrated to appear casual, each conversation deepening the connection neither of us acknowledged aloud.
A week into his stay, we walked through the Brera district, Cassian pointing out architectural details I would have missed.
"How do you know Milan so well?" I asked.
"I lived here briefly in my twenties," he replied, his tone suggesting there was more to the story. "Before family obligations called me back to London."
"The famous Vexley duty," I said, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice.
He stopped walking. "Not all Vexleys are like Orion."
"No," I admitted. "You're not."
Our eyes met, and for a moment, I thought he might close the careful distance he always maintained between us. Instead, he looked away, toward gathering storm clouds.
"We should find shelter. Italian thunderstorms arrive quickly."
We barely made it to the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II before the skies opened. The magnificent glass-domed arcade echoed with the sound of rain as we ducked into a small café nestled between luxury boutiques.
"Perfect timing," Cassian said, guiding me to a secluded table with a hand hovering near the small of my back, never quite touching.
The café was warm and intimate, the storm creating a cocoon around us. Over espresso, our conversation drifted to safer topics—my studies, his business—until a comfortable silence fell.
"Why did you really help me?" I finally asked the question that had haunted me for weeks.
Cassian stared into his cup. "Because I recognized something in you that I once saw in myself. The need to escape a life others had designed."
"What did you escape from?"
Lightning flashed, illuminating the conflict in his eyes. "A marriage," he said finally. "Arranged when I was twenty-three, to the daughter of my father's business partner."
"I didn't know you were married." The thought sent an irrational pang through me.
"I'm not. Not anymore." His voice dropped. "Eliza was beautiful, accomplished, and utterly miserable with me. I tried to make her happy, but..." He paused, his fingers tightening around his cup. "She took her own life three years into our marriage."
The raw pain in his voice made me reach across the table, covering his hand with mine. "I'm sorry."
"It was a long time ago." He didn't withdraw from my touch. "But it taught me the cost of living by others' expectations."
"Is that why you never remarried?"
"Partly." His eyes met mine, intense and unguarded. "And partly because I've never met anyone who made me want to risk that kind of pain again."
The unspoken "until now" hung between us.
"My mother was the only one who ever truly saw me," I confessed, filling the charged silence. "After she died, I became invisible in my own home. A ghost with scars."
"You were never invisible, Seraphina." His thumb brushed over my knuckles, sending electricity up my arm. "Not to anyone with eyes to see."
The café seemed to shrink around us, the air heavy with things we shouldn't feel, shouldn't want. He was too old for me, too entangled with my past. I was too young, too damaged. Yet in that moment, none of it mattered.
His phone rang, shattering the spell. With obvious reluctance, he answered.
"Vexley." His expression darkened as he listened. "When? Without authorization? No, absolutely not."
He ended the call, his face a mask of controlled anger.
"What is it?" I asked.
"It seems my nephew and your stepsister have decided to hold their wedding at my villa on Lake Como." His jaw clenched. "Without bothering to ask permission."
"Your villa?" The thought of Orion and Isolde invading Cassian's personal space made my stomach turn. "Can't you refuse?"
"Technically, yes. But the invitations have already been sent. Apparently, my brother assured them I would agree."
"When?"
"Next month. They're arriving next week to prepare." His eyes met mine, concern replacing anger. "Seraphina, they'll be in Milan. If they discover you're here—"
"They won't," I said with more confidence than I felt. "Milan is a big city."
"Not big enough." He hesitated, then added, "Perhaps you should stay at my apartment while they're here. It's in a secure building, and—"
"No." I withdrew my hand from his. "I won't hide. I won't let them drive me away again."
"This isn't about hiding. It's about protecting what you've built here."
The rain had stopped, sunlight now streaming through the glass dome above. I stood, needing space to think.
"I should get back to the academy."
Cassian rose as well, his height making me tilt my head to meet his eyes. "At least think about it."
"I will."
As we walked toward the exit, he stopped suddenly. "There's something else you should know."
"What?"
"Your father is coming with them. For the wedding."
The ground seemed to shift beneath my feet. My father, the man who had threatened to institutionalize me, would be here—in my sanctuary.
"Seraphina?" Cassian's voice seemed distant.
"I need to go," I whispered, and fled into the crowded gallery, leaving him standing alone beneath the soaring glass dome.
