SERAPHINA
Monday morning arrived wrapped in pale gray light filtering through the estate's tall windows. I stood at the top of the grand staircase, adjusting the collar of my crisp Westfield blazer, when Noah appeared at the bottom.
He looked… different.
The new uniform fit him perfectly—blazer tailored to his shoulders, tie knotted with careful precision (probably Mrs. Dawn's doing), trousers sharp. The contacts had replaced his old glasses, making his dark eyes stand out sharper than before. He carried my books and laptop bag in one arm, the other hand clenched at his side like he was fighting the urge to bolt.
He didn't look like the scholarship kid anymore. He looked like he belonged in my world.
And that irritated me more than it should have.
"Ready?" I called down, voice cool and clipped.
Noah glanced up. For a split second something flickered across his face—resentment, nerves, that same conflicted heat I'd seen when I'd made him kneel yesterday. Then it smoothed into blank obedience.
"Yes," he said quietly.
I descended the stairs slowly, heels clicking against marble. When I reached him I stopped close—too close—and held out my hand. "Phone."
He pulled the new iPhone from his pocket and placed it in my palm without protest. I checked it quickly: no new messages to Marcus or his mother that I hadn't approved. Good. I slipped it into my own blazer pocket.
"You'll ride with me today," I told him, already turning toward the front door. "Thomas is waiting."
Noah followed a step behind, silent.
The black Mercedes idled in the circular drive, morning mist still clinging to the lawns. Thomas opened the back door for us. I slid in first, crossing my legs. Noah hesitated only a moment before climbing in after me. The door shut with a heavy, final thud.
The interior smelled of leather and my signature perfume. As the car pulled smoothly away from the estate, the gates gliding open like they were welcoming us back into the real game, I turned slightly toward him.
"Rules for today," I said, keeping my voice low enough that Thomas couldn't hear. "You walk me to every class. Carry my things. Sit with me at lunch—no hiding with Marcus. And if anyone asks why you're suddenly my shadow…"
I let the sentence hang.
Noah's jaw flexed. "I'm assisting you with student council duties. On probation."
"Exactly." I smiled, small and satisfied. "Smart boy."
He stared out the window as the city blurred past—luxury estates giving way to wider boulevards, then the iron gates of Westfield Academy rising ahead. His hands rested on his knees, knuckles pale.
The car rolled to a stop in the reserved senior lot. Students were already milling about, uniforms sharp, voices carrying across the manicured grounds. Heads turned the moment Thomas opened my door.
I stepped out first, the morning air crisp against my skin. Noah followed, immediately shouldering my bag and books like it was the most natural thing in the world now.
Brittany and Tess spotted us instantly and hurried over, eyebrows raised.
"Morning, Sera," Brittany said, eyes flicking to Noah with open curiosity. "And… Noah. You two coming together now?"
I looped my arm through Noah's—possessive, casual—and felt him stiffen. "He's helping me this week. Dean's orders. Very generous of me, don't you think?"
Tess smirked. "Very. Looks good on you, scholarship boy. New uniform suits you."
Noah said nothing. Just kept his gaze forward, cheeks faintly flushed.
I tugged him along toward the main building, my friends falling into step beside us. Whispers rippled through the crowd—some surprised, some amused, a few jealous. Perfect. Let them talk. Let them see exactly who held the leash.
Inside the hallway, Roman was leaning against the lockers with a couple of his teammates. His eyes narrowed the second he saw us. The bruise he'd left on Noah's jaw had faded, but the memory clearly hadn't.
He pushed off the wall and strode over, blocking our path.
"What the fuck is this, Seraphina?" His voice was low, dangerous. "You're parading him around like a pet now?"
Before he could spiral further, I released Noah's arm, stepped into Roman's space, and wrapped my arms around his neck in a smooth, public hug. I pressed a soft kiss to his lips, lingering just long enough to feel the tension in his shoulders ease.
"Jealous, babe?" I murmured against his mouth, pulling back with a sweet smile while keeping one hand on his chest. "He's on probation. I'm giving him a chance to redeem himself. You know how magnanimous I can be."
Roman's jaw unclenched slightly, though his eyes still flicked to Noah with contempt. "Doesn't mean I have to like it."
I kissed him again—quick, reassuring—and stepped back, reclaiming Noah's arm. "Play nice. For me?"
Roman exhaled, nodding once. "Fine. But this better not become a habit."
I gave him a playful wink and tugged Noah past. His body was rigid under my touch, every muscle locked in silent protest.
When we reached my locker, I turned to him. "Books down. Combination is 12-34-09."
He obeyed, setting everything neatly inside.
I closed the locker and faced him fully, voice dropping. "You did well just now. Quiet. Obedient. Keep it up and lunch might not be so bad."
His eyes met mine—stormy, conflicted. "Is this really what you want? Turning me into this… thing in front of everyone?"
I reached up and straightened his tie with deliberate slowness, fingers brushing his collar. "Yes. Because every time you swallow your pride for me, it tastes better than the last."
The warning bell rang.
I picked up my bag myself this time and started toward first period. Noah fell into step beside me like a well-trained shadow.