chapter 2 dinner with the devil
1659 Words
Anna smoothed her palms over the silky fabric of her dress for the tenth time, her heart pounding like a drum inside her chest. The dining room looked more like something out of a royal palace than a home—a long mahogany table that could seat twenty, glittering chandeliers dripping crystals, and silver cutlery that probably cost more than her entire wardrobe.
She swallowed hard. Every inch of this place screamed money. Power. Control.
And then there was him.
David sat at the far end of the table, relaxed, fingers resting against his jaw as if he had all the time in the world. A dark suit hugged his broad shoulders, and the way he looked at her—cool, calculating—made her want to shrink into the floor.
Why is he sitting so far away? she wondered. Does he want to make me walk the entire length of this ridiculous table like some sort of punishment?
“Anna,” he said, his voice smooth and commanding, slicing through the silence like a blade. “Come closer. Sit.”
Her throat tightened. She picked up her pace, her heels clicking on the polished floor as she walked toward him, each step echoing like a countdown to her doom. Finally, she slipped into the chair opposite him, trying not to stare at how effortlessly powerful he looked.
He didn’t speak right away. Instead, his gray eyes roamed over her slowly, deliberately, making her feel exposed. When his gaze finally met hers, there was something there—a spark of amusement, maybe, or something darker.
“You look… different,” he said, his tone unreadable.
She forced a small smile. “It’s been a few years.”
“Years don’t change people that much.” His words were soft, almost lazy, but the sharp edge beneath them made her flinch.
The air between them grew heavy. A servant appeared and began pouring wine into crystal glasses, setting plates of food that looked like they belonged in a five-star restaurant. Anna stared at the roasted duck and artfully arranged vegetables, but her appetite was gone.
She picked up her fork, anything to keep her hands busy. “Thank you for agreeing to this… arrangement,” she managed, her voice tight.
David tilted his head slightly, eyes glinting. “Arrangement,” he repeated slowly, as if tasting the word. “Is that what you think this is?”
Her pulse spiked. “Isn’t it? My father—”
“Your father,” he cut in, leaning back in his chair. “A man so desperate to save his failing empire that he would offer his own daughter as collateral.”
The way he said it—calm, almost amused—made heat creep up her neck. Shame, anger, and something else churned in her chest.
“You agreed,” she shot back before she could stop herself.
His lips curved in a smile that wasn’t a smile at all. “Oh, I agreed, Anna. Gladly.”
The way he said her name made her shiver.
She dropped her gaze to her plate, stabbing at a vegetable she had no intention of eating. “Why?” she whispered, more to herself than to him.
But he heard. Of course he did.
“Why?” His chair scraped softly against the floor as he stood. Her heart jumped into her throat as he walked toward her with slow, deliberate steps. Every instinct screamed at her to move, to run, but her body betrayed her—she sat frozen as he stopped right beside her chair.
His hand came down on the backrest, his presence towering over her like a storm. When he spoke, his voice was low, intimate, a whisper that curled against her ear.
“Because, Anna,” he murmured, “some things are worth waiting for.”
Her breath hitched. She forced herself to look up, and when her eyes met his, she saw it—cold steel laced with fire. Dangerous. Unpredictable. And yet, terrifyingly magnetic.
“You think this is revenge,” he said softly, reading her like an open book. “You think I’m going to make you pay for every cruel word you threw at me in college.” His lips brushed the shell of her ear as he leaned closer, and her entire body went rigid. “Maybe I should. Maybe I will.”
Her heart pounded so hard it hurt.
“But…” He paused, and the silence was deafening. Then, in a tone that sent a shiver racing down her spine, he whispered, “That’s not what I want from you.”
Her fingers trembled around the fork. “Then… what do you want?”
He pulled back just enough for their eyes to lock. His smile was slow, wicked, and far too confident.
“Everything.”
The single word hit her like a thunderclap.
Before she could respond, he straightened, his cold mask snapping back into place as if that moment of raw intensity hadn’t happened at all. He reached for his wine glass and said casually, “Finish your dinner, Anna. You’ll need your strength for what comes next.”
Her stomach dropped.
What comes next?
him.
David sat at the far end of the table, relaxed, fingers resting against his jaw as if he had all the time in the world. A dark suit hugged his broad shoulders, and the way he looked at her cool, calculating made her want to shrink into the floor.
Why is he sitting so far away? she wondered. Does he want to make me walk the entire length of this ridiculous table like some sort of punishment?
“Anna,” he said, his voice smooth and commanding, slicing through the silence like a blade. “Come closer. Sit.”
Her throat tightened. She picked up her pace, her heels clicking on the polished floor as she walked toward him, each step echoing like a countdown to her doom. Finally, she slipped into the chair opposite him, trying not to stare at how effortlessly powerful he looked.
He didn’t speak right away. Instead, his gray eyes roamed over her slowly, deliberately, making her feel exposed. When his gaze finally met hers, there was something there—a spark of amusement, maybe, or something darker.
“You look… different,” he said, his tone unreadable.
She forced a small smile. “ and said hmm
“years change people that much.” His words were soft, almost lazy, but the sharp edge beneath them made her flinch.
The air between them grew heavy. A servant appeared and began pouring wine into crystal glasses, setting plates of food that looked like they belonged in a five-star restaurant. Anna stared at the roasted duck and artfully arranged vegetables, but her appetite was gone.
She picked up her fork, anything to keep her hands busy. “Thank you for agreeing to this… arrangement,” she managed, her voice tight.
David tilted his head slightly, eyes glinting. “Arrangement,” he repeated slowly, as if tasting the word. “Is that what you think this is?”
Her pulse spiked. “Isn’t it? My father ”
“Your father,” he cut in, leaning back in his chair. “A man so desperate to save his failing empire that he would offer his own daughter as collateral.”
The way he said it—calm, almost amused—made heat creep up her neck. Shame, anger, and something else churned in her chest.
“You agreed,” she shot back before she could stop herself.
His lips curved in a smile that wasn’t a smile at all. “Oh, I agreed, Anna. Gladly.”
The way he said her name made her shiver.
She dropped her gaze to her plate, stabbing at a vegetable she had no intention of eating. “Why?” she whispered, more to herself than to him.
But he heard. Of course he did.
“Why?” His chair scraped softly against the floor as he stood. Her heart jumped into her throat as he walked toward her with slow, deliberate steps. Every instinct screamed at her to move, to run, but her body betrayed her—she sat frozen as he stopped right beside her chair.
His hand came down on the backrest, his presence towering over her like a storm. When he spoke, his voice was low, intimate, a whisper that curled against her ear.
“Because, Anna,” he murmured, “some things are worth waiting for.”
Her breath hitched. She forced herself to look up, and when her eyes met his, she saw it—cold steel laced with fire. Dangerous. Unpredictable. And yet, terrifyingly magnetic.
“You think this is revenge,” he said softly, reading her like an open book. “You think I’m going to make you pay for every cruel word you threw at me in college.” His lips brushed the shell of her ear as he leaned closer, and her entire body went rigid. “Maybe I should. Maybe I will.”
Her heart pounded so hard it hurt.
“But…” He paused, and the silence was deafening. Then, in a tone that sent a shiver racing down her spine, he whispered, “That’s not what I want from you.”
Her fingers trembled around the fork. “Then… what do you want?”
He pulled back just enough for their eyes to lock. His smile was slow, wicked, and far too confident.
“Everything.”
The single word hit her like a thunderclap.
Before she could respond, he straightened, his cold mask snapping back into place as if that moment of raw intensity hadn’t happened at all. He reached for his wine glass and said casually, “Finish your dinner, Anna. You’ll need your strength for what comes next
Her stomach dropped
What comes next?
- Writer
