Chapter 4: The Dinner
721 Words
Elena spent the afternoon in her room.
She tried to read. Could not focus. Tried to sleep. Could not close her eyes without seeing Rossi on his knees. The gunshot. The blood.
At 7 PM, Rosa came with a dress.
"Mr. Vitale asked me to give you this."
The dress was black. Silk. Long sleeves. A neckline that showed just enough to be dangerous.
Elena stared at it. "I can't wear this."
"You can. And you will."
"Why?"
Rosa's eyes were kind but firm. "Because he asked. And because refusing him is not an option."
Elena took the dress.
---
At 8 PM, she walked down the grand staircase.
The dining room was enormous. A table that could seat twenty. Crystal chandeliers. Candles flickering.
Dante was already there. Standing by the window, looking out at the gardens.
He turned when she entered.
His eyes traveled over her. Slowly. Deliberately.
"You look beautiful."
"I look like someone else."
"Maybe. But that someone else is stunning."
He pulled out a chair for her. She sat. He sat across from her.
---
The first course was soup. Delicate. Flavorful.
Elena ate in silence. Dante watched her.
"You're not going to ask me why I wanted dinner?" he said.
"Should I?"
"Most people would."
"I'm not most people."
Dante's lips curved. "No. You're not."
He leaned back in his chair. "I wanted to know more about you. The woman who walked into my house without an appointment. Who offered to work for me instead of running."
"There was nowhere to run."
"There's always somewhere. You chose to stay."
Elena set down her spoon. "My father is all I have. I couldn't let him die."
"Even if it means giving up your freedom?"
"Freedom is overrated."
Dante laughed. A real laugh. Low. Warm. Elena had not expected him to sound like that.
"You're interesting, Elena."
"I'm desperate. There's a difference."
---
The second course was steak. Rare. Tender.
Dante cut his slowly. Methodically.
"I lost my father when I was twenty-two," he said. "Murdered by a rival family. I watched him die."
Elena's heart ached. "I'm sorry."
"I took over that night. Killed the men who killed him. Took their territory. Their money. Their lives."
"Did it make you feel better?"
"No. But it made them feel worse."
Elena looked at him. Really looked. Beneath the coldness, she saw something else. Pain. Loneliness.
"Is that why you live alone? In this huge house?"
Dante's jaw tightened. "I trust no one."
"Because everyone betrays you?"
"Because everyone betrays everyone. Eventually."
---
The third course was dessert. Chocolate cake. Rich. Dark.
Elena took a small bite. "What happened to your mother?"
Dante's face went still. "She left. After my father died. She couldn't handle the life."
"Where is she now?"
"I don't know. I don't care."
But Elena saw the lie in his eyes. He cared. He just didn't want to.
"When did you become so good at reading people?" he asked.
"I grew up poor. You learn to read people fast. It's how you survive."
"You've been surviving your whole life."
"Yes."
"No more."
Elena looked up. "What?"
"No more surviving. You work for me now. That means you thrive. You eat well. You sleep in a soft bed. You wear expensive clothes."
"In exchange for my soul?"
Dante's eyes darkened. "I don't want your soul, Elena. I want your loyalty."
"You have it."
"Do I?"
She held his gaze. "I gave you my word. I don't break promises."
Dante studied her for a long moment. Then he nodded.
"I believe you."
---
The dinner ended.
Dante walked her to her room. They stopped at the door.
"Tomorrow, we have more meetings," he said. "Rest well."
"Thank you for dinner."
"I enjoyed it. More than I expected."
He reached out. Touched her face. Just like the night before.
"You're not afraid of me," he whispered.
"Should I be?"
"Yes. But I'm glad you're not."
He walked away.
Elena went into her room. Leaned against the door.
Her heart was racing. Her skin was warm where he had touched her.
She had seen him kill. She knew what he was capable of.
And yet, when he looked at her, she felt something she should not feel.
She was falling for the devil.
And there was no way back.
- Writer
