When in Rome Pt. 4

The suite was quiet except for the low hum of the city drifting in through the slightly cracked balcony door and the faint clink of glass against glass. Kiara sat curled into the corner of the couch, one leg tucked beneath her, her stemless wine glass balanced loosely in her hand. She’d swapped the gown and heels for a pale blush satin camisole and matching lounge shorts—light, loose, and draping just right so nothing hinted at the cage beneath. The fabric skimmed her thighs without clinging, the hem just brushing the tops of her legs when she shifted. Bare-faced now, her skin looked softer, younger, freshly cleansed with a faint sheen from her nighttime moisturizer. Her hair, freed from the evening’s style, tumbled over her shoulders in relaxed, glossy waves.

Across from her, Seraphina was perched sideways in a deep armchair, knees drawn up, glass of pinot grigio in hand. She’d thrown on a loose black tank and grey knit shorts, her bare legs folded comfortably beneath her. With her makeup gone, her features were warmer, more approachable—still polished, but in that lived-in way you only saw in private moments.

“So we’re leaving the restaurant,” Kiara was saying, swirling her wine lazily as though it might help her replay the scene. “And of course, the paps are camped outside like they’d been there all night waiting for us to come out. Bright lights, camera shutters, the whole thing. Lucian does his usual gentleman thing—hand at my back, leading me toward the car like we’re stepping off a red carpet instead of a street corner.”

Seraphina grinned into her glass. “Uh-huh. And you just let him put his hand there? Didn’t even flinch?”

Kiara lifted a brow, careful to keep her tone light. “Why would I flinch? It’s better than stumbling in heels with ten cameras aimed up my skirt.”

“That’s not a no,” Seraphina sing-songed, eyes sparkling.

Kiara took a slow sip instead of answering, letting the wine rest on her tongue before swallowing. “Anyway… we got here, he opens the car door for me, which—yes—I did giggle at.”

Seraphina nearly choked on her wine. “You giggled?”

“It wasn’t—” Kiara fought a smile and lost. “It wasn’t like that. It was just… unexpected. Most men don’t move that fast to open the door. He barely let the driver stop before he was halfway across the pavement.”

“Mmhmm. Go on, princess.”

Kiara rolled her eyes but kept going. “So I’m getting out, and he doesn’t even give me time to step away before he’s sliding his arm into mine. Like… not asking, just doing it.”

“And?”

“And nothing. We walked to the hotel entrance like that.”

Seraphina gave her a look over the rim of her glass. “Like that, meaning…”

“Like that meaning… close enough that I could feel the warmth from his arm. Happy?”

“Very.” Seraphina leaned back, clearly savoring this. “And then?”

Kiara took another sip, tracing a finger along the rim of her glass. “Then he stops—right outside the doors, like he’s about to deliver a speech—and tells me I’m beautiful. Again.”

“Again?”

“Yes. For the third time tonight.”

Seraphina smirked. “He’s keeping count?”

Kiara gave her a pointed look. “I was, but that’s exactly what he said. And he said he's not done saying it yet.”

“Oh, smooth. I like it.”

“Then…” Kiara hesitated, glancing at her glass as if it might help her phrase it. “Then he let go of my arm and put his hands on my waist. Just… held me there.”

Seraphina’s grin widened. “And your hands?”

“They were—” Kiara exhaled slowly. “On his shoulders.”

Seraphina sipped her wine. “Right.”

“He says he’s only ever seen me in fancy clothes, I tell him he only takes me to fancy places, and then he says—”

“Wait. I bet he said ‘We could change that tomorrow,’” Seraphina finished, leaning forward, her smile widening as she realized she was right. “And then what?”

“And I play along. Then he kisses me.”

Seraphina froze mid-sip. “Like… kisses kisses you? Not a peck?”

“Firm,” Kiara said simply. “Slow. Not rushed. The kind that makes you notice every little movement.”

Seraphina’s brows lifted. “And you kissed him back?”

Kiara looked her straight in the eye. “I didn’t pull away.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I didn’t pull away, Seraphina.”

Seraphina smirked knowingly. “Noted. And then?”

Kiara swirled her wine again, letting the pause stretch. “Then he makes some joke about how he promised me no funny business tonight, and I laughed—don’t look at me like that—and then he says he wants to take me on a proper date tomorrow. Not a fancy one. Just… a date.”

Seraphina’s eyes widened. “And you said?”

“Yes.”

The speed of her answer clearly caught Seraphina. “Just like that?”

Kiara shrugged lightly, letting her shoulder peek through the thin strap of her cami. “Simple as that.”

“Mmhmm,” Seraphina murmured, her grin saying she didn’t believe it was just that. “And then?”

Kiara’s voice dropped just slightly. “And then he smiled like he’d just been handed the keys to the city… and kissed me again.”

Seraphina leaned in. “Details.”

Kiara let her mind drift back, wine glass poised in her fingertips. “Still firm. A little deeper this time. Not sloppy, not overeager. Just… close. Steady. Barely any movement, but enough to feel like it was meant to last.”

“And you…” Seraphina prompted, tilting her head.

“…kissed him back,” Kiara said.

Seraphina’s smirk didn’t fade.

Kiara took another slow sip, as if the wine might wash away the tiny, unspoken question that had flickered in her mind when she said it.

The wine had loosened both of them up in the best possible way. The glow from the dim hotel lamps made them both look softer somehow, younger, and in Kiara’s case, even more undeniably feminine in her mannerisms.

They had drifted away from Lucian talk almost without noticing, slipping into that languid, honeyed rhythm only two women who trusted each other completely could hit.

“You know,” Seraphina started, smirking over the rim of her wine, “if you ever died, I’d be absolutely devastated.”

Kiara squinted at her. “That’s… sweet?”

“No, no—you don’t understand,” Seraphina said, leaning forward dramatically, “I’d be devastated for, like… three full business days. Maybe four if I’m feeling sentimental. And then I’d immediately raid your closet, wear your heels, and claim you left them to me in your will.”

Kiara burst out laughing, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. “Three business days? That’s it? Bitch, I’d have your funeral catered. I’d have mourners in designer black, tears and couture, the works. I’d even hire hot Italian men to carry your casket shirtless.”

Seraphina gasped. “Oh my god, yes. And at the wake, they’d feed me chocolate-covered strawberries while I tell everyone how much you loved me.”

Kiara was already shaking her head, giggling, “And I’d have a giant portrait of you in lingerie at the entrance. Just to make everyone uncomfortable.”

It should’ve stopped there, but the more they drank, the more they turned it into a competition.

“I’d let you borrow my last tampon in a zombie apocalypse,” Seraphina announced proudly.

Kiara gasped. “That’s friendship and feminism. But I raise you: I’d pluck my own perfectly-shaped brows out with rusty tweezers just to make you feel better about yours.”

Seraphina’s jaw dropped in mock horror. “Okay, first of all—my brows are flawless.” She leaned in conspiratorially, a wicked grin forming. “Second of all, I’d… I’d fake an orgasm for you.”

Kiara choked on her sip. “For me? How does that even work?”

“I don’t know!” Seraphina burst into giggles, “Maybe you’re, like, on a date with some guy and I’m in the next room pretending I’m cumming so he thinks you’re just—y’know—that good.”

Kiara doubled over, setting her glass down before she spilled it. “That is the most unhinged thing I’ve ever heard—and I love it.”

“Okay, but if you die before me, I’m getting your ashes made into a diamond and wearing you around my neck. And then whenever I hook up with someone, I can whisper, ‘Kiara’s here too.’”

Kiara choked out a laugh, grabbing at her stomach. “That is… so fucking deranged.”

“And hot,” Seraphina countered immediately, eyes gleaming. “Think about it—three-way without the paperwork.”

“Oh my god!” Kiara squealed, the kind of unrestrained, high-pitched giggle that came out before she could stop it. She threw a silk pillow at Seraphina, who caught it and hugged it to her chest, grinning wickedly.

Seraphina leaned closer, eyes dancing. “Fine, then—when I die, I want you to make a tasteful but slutty shrine to me in your bedroom. Candles, lace, maybe one of my bras draped across the frame. And every time you have sex, you have to look over at it and say, ‘She would’ve loved this.’”

Kiara was doubled over now, tears prickling her eyes from laughing. “That’s the most unholy thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Unholy but iconic,” Seraphina shot back, sipping her wine with exaggerated poise.

Kiara, regaining some breath, sat up straighter and leaned in conspiratorially. “Okay, okay, if you die, I’m commissioning an erotic oil painting of you—completely naked, lounging on a chaise, grapes in hand, with strategically placed flowers. I’ll hang it above my bed and every man who sees it will have to compete with the legacy of Seraphina’s tits.”

Seraphina snorted so loudly it turned into a laugh, clutching her side. “My tits are a legacy already, sweetheart.”

Kiara’s laugh softened into a grin, the teasing giving way to a warm, tipsy glow in her chest. “God, I do love you, though.”

Seraphina’s smirk softened too, though she couldn’t resist pushing it. “I love you more. Like, I’d hide a body for you.”

“Please,” Kiara said with mock arrogance, “I’d commit the **** for you and then frame your enemies.”

They both dissolved into helpless giggles again, the air thick with that intoxicating mix of affection and filthy humor that only grew sharper with every glass.

“You know,” Seraphina said after a beat, still smiling, “I think if we were lesbians, we’d be dangerous together.”

Kiara didn’t miss a beat. “Oh, absolutely. Like, ruin-the-local-girl-population dangerous.”

“Leave no girlfriend un-stolen,” Seraphina added, raising her glass.

“Leave no boyfriend un-corrupted,” Kiara countered, clinking hers against it.

The laughter that followed was so loud they had to muffle themselves with the throw pillows, wine sloshing precariously close to the rim as they leaned against each other, cheeks flushed, eyes bright.

They were both breathless, chests rising and falling under the soft hotel lamplight, the air still buzzing from the ridiculous, filthy spiral of jokes they’d just gone down.

Seraphina, sitting cross-legged opposite her, pushed her hair behind one ear and exhaled, smiling in that slow, softened way that came only after genuine laughter had wrung everything else out.

Kiara could feel it—how the room’s energy shifted, settling from manic giggles into something warmer, heavier, more tender. She set her wine glass down on the side table and pulled her knees in, resting her chin on them, eyes catching Seraphina’s. “You know,” she said quietly, almost shy now, “we’re kind of stuck with each other.”

Seraphina tilted her head, lips curving, and then pushed herself up to stand. “No,” she said, holding out her hand for Kiara, “we’re not stuck. We’re choosing it. That’s way better.”

Kiara took her hand and rose, her silk shorts brushing smooth over her thighs, her balance automatically finding that slight hip tilt she’d been trained into. They stood there barefoot on the plush rug, facing each other in the soft gold light.

“Alright,” Seraphina said solemnly, holding out her pinky. “Sisters. For life. No matter what. Even if we hate each other one day, we’ll still be sisters.”

Kiara hooked her pinky with hers, their hands small and warm between them. “Sisters for life,” she echoed.

“And,” Seraphina added, “we’ll always tell each other when we look hot.”

Kiara grinned. “Always.”

“And if one of us cries, the other brings wine.”

Kiara laughed softly. “And chocolate.”

Seraphina’s eyes glinted. “And if one of us ever murders someone—”

Kiara didn’t miss a beat. “The other one helps hide the body.”

They both grinned wider.

Then Seraphina’s smirk sharpened. “And… we can add one more.”

Kiara arched a brow. “Go on.”

“If one of us ever needs sex so bad she might die…” Seraphina’s grin went wicked. “…the other provides… a solution.”

Kiara’s laugh came out high and incredulous, but she didn’t break the pinky lock. “That is the dirtiest sisterly vow I’ve ever heard.”

“Then it’s perfect,” Seraphina said, eyes dancing.

Kiara tightened her pinky around hers. “Fine. Sisters for life… and for that.”

They both gave a little ceremonial squeeze before letting go.

Seraphina’s expression softened again, but with a spark beneath it. “You know,” she said, voice lower now, “last time we shared a hotel room… you ate me out until I came and then passed the fuck out.”

Kiara felt the heat rush to her cheeks even as her lips curled into a knowing smile. “Oh… that.”

“That,” Seraphina repeated, leaning in a fraction. “Remember, we're not just sisters. We’re sisters… with a little extra.”

Kiara’s gaze flicked down to her mouth and back up. “Sisters with a little extra,” she murmured.

This time, neither of them laughed. They just stood there for a long moment, eyes locked, breath mingling. And then, slowly, as though pulled by something inevitable, they both leaned in.

The first press of lips was firm but not rushed—warmth, softness, that faint taste of wine and something sweeter. Kiara felt herself melt forward, her hands finding Seraphina’s waist as Seraphina’s fingers curled gently into her hair. The kiss deepened by degrees, not frantic but unhurried, a slow, coaxing exchange of warmth that carried a quiet kind of passion. Their mouths fit together like they’d done this a hundred times in dreams, not just once in memory.

Kiara could feel every tiny detail—the subtle shift of Seraphina’s hips closer, the faint scrape of a fingernail at the nape of her neck, the way her own lashes brushed Seraphina’s cheek each time they moved. The world outside the pool of golden light didn’t exist; there was only the steady, tender heat between them.

Eventually, Seraphina pulled back just slightly, their lips still brushing. Her eyes stayed locked on Kiara’s as she whispered, almost conspiratorial, “Sisters… with a little extra.”

Kiara’s smile curved slow and girlish against her mouth. “Sisters with a little extra,” she repeated softly, a faint giggle slipping out before she leaned in for one last quick peck on the lips.