CHAPTER THREE: DINNER WITH THE DEVIL
1621 Words
Chapter 3 – Dinner with the Devil
Scene 1 – The Dinner Threat
“Dinner. Tonight. Or I’ll come find you.”
That single message glowed on Emma’s phone like a bomb ticking down to zero. She shoved it into her purse, straightened her shoulders, and turned to me like nothing had happened.
“We’re leaving,” she snapped.
“Uh-huh,” I said. “Cool. One tiny question though: are we talking leaving as in ‘going home to watch Netflix,’ or leaving as in ‘walking into a mafia dinner invitation from Satan’s younger cousin’?”
Her eyes flashed. “It’s none of your concern, Winton.”
“None of my—” I gaped at her. “You literally just got a death-threat dinner invitation and your first instinct is to treat me like I forgot to water the office plants?”
She spun on her heel and marched toward her car. I followed because, honestly, at this point I might as well buy her a leash and call myself her bodyguard.
“Listen,” I said as we crossed the parking lot. “If you don’t go, Lorenzo sends more men. If you do go, you’re sitting across the table from a guy whose dating profile probably lists ‘arson and extortion’ as hobbies. So forgive me for thinking this is very much my concern.”
She stopped so suddenly I nearly rear-ended her. Her eyes shimmered with something I’d never seen before: fear, raw and unguarded.
“You don’t understand, Gale,” she whispered. “Lorenzo doesn’t take no for an answer. If I refuse, he’ll ruin my father’s company. If I give in—” She broke off, shaking her head. “I can’t give in.”
For the first time, I saw Emma not as the boss who yelled at me for coffee disasters, but as a girl trapped in something much bigger than herself.
And maybe I was an i***t, but in that moment, I knew: I wasn’t going to let her face this alone.
---
Scene 2 – The Dinner Setup
The next day at the office, things escalated fast.
Around noon, two men in sleek suits strolled in like they owned the place. Sunglasses indoors, matching scars, voices like gravel. Definitely not from HR.
“Ms. Thircroft,” one of them said smoothly. “Our boss is expecting you tonight. He insists you don’t keep him waiting.”
The entire office froze. Even the printers seemed to hold their breath.
Emma rose from her chair, every inch the heiress princess, chin high and glare sharp. “Tell your boss I don’t respond to orders.”
The man’s smile didn’t waver. “Consider it a… request, then.”
I stood up before my brain caught up. “Excuse me, gentlemen, but Ms. Thircroft already has dinner plans tonight.”
All eyes swiveled toward me. Emma’s jaw nearly unhinged.
The man arched an eyebrow. “And you are?”
I flashed my brightest grin. “The boyfriend.”
Gasps rippled across the office like someone had dropped a grenade.
Emma made a strangled sound, half outrage, half disbelief. “Winton—”
“Fiancé, actually,” I added cheerfully. “We’re celebrating tonight. Big milestone. You understand.”
The man’s smile slipped for the first time. He leaned in close, his voice a hiss. “Careful, kid. You’re playing a dangerous game.”
I leaned closer, lowering my voice to match. “So is your boss.”
For a heartbeat, we just stared at each other, two players in a chess match no one else could see. Then he straightened, his expression unreadable.
“Tonight,” he said simply. “Seven o’clock. La Fortuna.”
They left as smoothly as they’d come.
The moment the doors closed, Emma rounded on me, eyes blazing. “What was THAT?”
I shrugged. “Buying us time. And hey, congrats on the engagement.”
“Winton!” she screeched.
But beneath the fury, I thought I saw something else flicker in her eyes. Relief.
---
Scene 3 – Dinner with Lorenzo
La Fortuna was the kind of Italian restaurant that smelled like money and arrogance. Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, waiters glided around in tuxedos, and a string quartet played music that made me want to check my bank account balance out of guilt.
Emma walked beside me, every hair perfectly in place, her dress a deep crimson that screamed power even as her hands trembled.
We were shown to a private table at the back. And there he was.
Lorenzo Valente.
He couldn’t have been more than twenty-five, but he carried himself like a king. Dark hair slicked back, expensive suit tailored to perfection, a diamond ring flashing on his pinkie. His smile was smooth, his eyes sharp—and they lingered on Emma like she was prey.
“Emma,” he purred, rising to kiss her hand. “You look exquisite.”
Emma yanked her hand back. “Let’s get this over with.”
His gaze slid to me, and his smile faltered. “And who is this?”
I pulled out Emma’s chair, sat down across from Lorenzo, and flashed my most obnoxious grin. “The fiancé.”
The air went so quiet, I swear even the violins in the background stopped.
Lorenzo’s smile hardened, but he didn’t drop it. “Fiancé? Interesting. I don’t recall hearing about an engagement.”
“Yeah, we like to keep things low-key,” I said. “You know, away from obsessive mafia bosses and all that.”
Emma kicked me under the table so hard I nearly swallowed my tongue.
Lorenzo chuckled, though his eyes gleamed with danger. “You’re bold, I’ll give you that.” He raised his glass. “To bold men… and the women who choose poorly.”
Emma’s lips pressed into a thin line.
Dinner was a battlefield disguised as a meal. Lorenzo bragged about his wealth, his power, his “vision” for expanding his empire. Every other sentence was laced with threats. Emma sat rigid, refusing to bend.
And me? I played the jester, throwing out sarcastic comments that earned me glares from Lorenzo and occasional, reluctant smirks from Emma.
“Tell me, fiancé,” Lorenzo drawled at one point, “what exactly do you bring to the table?”
“Breadsticks,” I said. “Really excellent breadsticks.”
Emma nearly choked on her wine.
Lorenzo’s smile was ice. “Enjoy your jokes while you can, boy.”
---
Scene 4 – Gale vs Lorenzo’s Logic
After the plates were cleared, Lorenzo leaned forward, his voice dropping low.
“Emma. You know why I’ve pursued you. You’re intelligent, beautiful, and powerful. Together, we could rule this city.”
Her knuckles whitened around her glass. “I’m not for sale.”
His eyes darkened. “Everyone has a price.”
I leaned forward before Emma could speak. “See, that’s where you’re wrong.”
Lorenzo’s gaze flicked to me, cold and sharp. “Enlighten me.”
“You think obsession equals strength,” I said, keeping my tone calm. “But really, it’s weakness. You’re a man with money, power, an empire—and yet here you are, chasing one woman who doesn’t want you. That doesn’t make you strong, Lorenzo. That makes you desperate.”
The room seemed to tilt. Even Lorenzo’s men shifted uncomfortably.
His smile never faltered, but his jaw clenched. “Careful, boy.”
I shrugged. “Just speaking physics. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. Push someone too hard, and eventually, they push back. Even empires fall when their leaders can’t control themselves.”
For the first time, Lorenzo’s mask cracked. His eyes burned with fury.
Emma stared at me, shock and something else flickering across her face—admiration, maybe?
Lorenzo rose smoothly, tossing a wad of cash onto the table. “Enjoy your evening. Both of you. But remember this: the game isn’t over.”
He walked out, his men trailing behind him like shadows.
---
Scene 5 – Emotional Aftermath
The silence he left behind was deafening.
Emma exhaled shakily, her hands trembling around her glass. For a moment, I thought she might shatter completely. Then she pushed her chair back and stood, spine straight, mask firmly in place again.
“Let’s go.”
We walked out together into the cool night air. The tension finally snapped, and Emma sagged against the side of her car, covering her face with her hands.
“Hey,” I said softly, stepping closer. “It’s okay. He’s just a guy with too much money and not enough brains.”
Her laugh was wet and shaky. “You’re insane, you know that?”
“Probably,” I admitted. “But hey, it works.”
For a long moment, she just looked at me. And in her eyes, I saw the walls cracking—the icy heiress exterior giving way to something softer, more vulnerable.
“Why are you doing this?” she whispered. “Why are you risking yourself for me?”
I shrugged, trying to play it cool even as my heart hammered. “Because someone has to. And apparently, I’m stupid enough to volunteer.”
Her lips parted, like she wanted to say more, but her phone buzzed again.
She glanced at the screen—and her face drained of color.
Slowly, she handed it to me.
A new message.
“You’ve made yourself my new enemy. – L”
My stomach turned to ice.
Great. Not only had I ticked off a mafia boss… I’d just put a target on my own back.
And somehow, I didn’t regret it.
Not one bit.
- Writer
