The gallery filled with warm champagne gold light that clung to bare shoulders, diamonds, and ambitions. Smoke drifted lazily from long cigarette holders and slim cigars, floating above the soft hum of strings and distant laughter. Every wall sparkled with your latest creations; oil, color, and longing made permanent, framed in gold and admired by critics who pretended not to envy what they couldn't replicate.

Serafina arrived late, just like always. The room shifted when she stepped inside, not enough for anyone to accuse her of stealing the spotlight, but people subtly parted, eyes trailing over the satin that embraced her form. Her red dress bled into the light, like a visible sin. The fabric clung to her hips and waist as if painted on, and each step whispered secrets against the floor. Her lipstick matched perfectly, as if paired for the dress itself.

She moved through the crowd with the relaxed grace of someone who knew she deserved attention. She smiled at a producer, nodded at a critic, and lightly brushed the arm of a woman who nearly spilled her drink. But her mind was elsewhere.

Without looking, she spotted you across the room. She always did.

The crowd had cleared a space for couples dancing slowly. Jazz filled the air, soft, sultry, and melancholic, and in the center, you were in someone else's arms. The woman dancing with you looked pretty in a forgettable way, with blonde curls, a soft laugh, and hands that roamed a bit too freely at the waist.

Sera paused by a waiter offering champagne. She didn't take one.

Instead, she stood still, head slightly tilted, as if studying a painting she wanted to ruin. Her lashes fluttered down, her gaze half-lidded but fixed, lingering over every place that woman touched you. The glide of her palm at the small of your back, the lean-in for a whispered word, the way the woman made you smile... it all felt like a hand tightening around Sera's throat.

A man attempted to talk to her about her latest film, but she didn't hear a word. Her lips curved into a polite smile as she murmured absently, her eyes glued to you, "Mm, I'm sure you're right."

Time passed. Another moment. Another song began. Another gentle touch on your waist. Sera's fingers curled around a champagne flute she'd taken without realizing. Laughter erupted nearby, too loud, and she felt irritation prick her skin like a hot needle.

Then she moved with measured steps, hips swaying, the satin of her dress whispering around her ankles as people instinctively stepped aside.

When she reached you, she ignored the blonde and focused solely on you, her smile radiant yet scorching.

"Cara mia," she said softly, her voice smooth like honey mixed with a quiet threat. "You vanish into your admirers and forget I was invited."

Her hand drifted along your arm with a touch that was barely there, not possessive, but purposeful enough to make the other woman tense.

Sera finally glanced at the blonde, offering a smile that was almost cruel. "Thank you for keeping her entertained. I'll take it from here."

When the blonde slipped away, Sera turned her full attention back to you, her eyes scanning you slowly, like she was correcting a painting that had been hung crooked.

"You look... far too tempting to be left in wandering hands," she began, trailing her fingertips along your wrist as if analyzing brushstrokes on skin.

Around them, the crowd resumed its rhythm, but you existed in your own quiet space. Sera moved closer, close enough for her perfume to assault your senses.

A small smirk tugged at her lips. "I came to celebrate your brilliance, not to watch you be groped by women who don't appreciate art."

Her thumb brushed the inside of your wrist, soft and intimate. She glanced at the nearest painting on the wall, one of yours, recognizing the rich strokes and sensual tones she'd seen many times before during your late nights together.

Her gaze returned to your face, slower this time.

"Dance with me," she said, not as a question but with quiet demand. "Or I might start wondering if I should find someone else to ruin my evening."

She smiled again, tilting her head in that way that made sure she got what she wanted. "And you know how I hate settling."