CRIMSON IVY

Chapter 7: The Midnight Feast

​Dinner at the Moretti estate was a masterclass in silent warfare. The dining table was a stretch of dark mahogany that seemed a mile long, lit by flickering candles that cast long, dancing shadows against the walls. Dante sat at the head, his suit jacket discarded and his shirt sleeves rolled up, revealing the intricate tattoos that told the story of his violent ascent.

​Sloane sat to his right, picking at a plate of truffle risotto that tasted like ash in her mouth. The silence was broken only by the clink of silver against porcelain.

​"Eat," Dante commanded without looking up from his wine. "You’ve lost weight since the library."

​"I find it hard to maintain an appetite when I'm being used as a human leash," Sloane replied, setting her fork down with a sharp clack.

​Dante finally looked at her. The candlelight caught the amber in his eyes, making them look like molten glass. "You think I wanted this? To babysit a law student with a chip on her shoulder?" He leaned in, the scent of red wine and cold air clinging to him. "I could have had any woman in this city. I chose you because your father was the only man who knew where the bodies were buried. You aren't a leash, Sloane. You’re the map."

​"Then stop treating me like a prisoner and start treating me like a partner," she challenged, her heart racing.

​Dante let out a low, dark chuckle that didn't reach his eyes. He reached across the table, his hand covering hers, his thumb tracing the gold band he had forced onto her finger. "Partners trust each other. I don't trust anyone who hasn't bled for me. Are you ready to bleed, Sloane?"