Chapter 9 – The Devil’s Dinner Table
527 Words
The dining room was grand. Crystal chandeliers. Velvet drapes. A table too long for comfort—like it was built for plotting, not feasting.
Rose sat at the far end, a porcelain plate in front of her untouched. The food looked delicious, but the air was thick with tension. It wasn’t just dinner. It was a test.
Across the table sat Angelo Moretti—Luciano’s father.
He hadn’t said much when he arrived. Just looked at Rose with eyes the color of scorched earth, sharp enough to peel back skin and secrets.
Luciano, seated beside her, kept a protective hand near his glass, knuckles stiff, eyes watchful.
“I expected her to be... different,” Angelo said, breaking the silence.
Rose looked up slowly. “Disappointed?”
Angelo chuckled. It was a low, smoky sound that didn’t match any warmth. “Surprised.”
“She saved my life,” Luciano said, his tone steel. “You could show some respect.”
“I show respect to people who’ve earned it.” Angelo poured himself wine, not spilling a drop. “And I don’t trust anyone with clean hands.”
Rose’s gaze didn’t waver. “Then you’ll never trust me.”
A flicker of amusement crossed Angelo’s face.
Luciano leaned toward her, whispering, “You don’t need to impress him.”
“I’m not trying to,” she whispered back. “I’m trying not to stab him with this butter knife.”
That earned a smirk from him—rare, real.
Angelo noticed and said nothing. But the shift in his eyes said everything.
Control. That’s what he wanted.
And Rose was clearly threatening it.
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Later – The Study
Luciano closed the door behind them, his fingers running through his hair. “He’s testing you.”
“No,” Rose replied, pacing. “He’s testing you. I’m just the excuse.”
Luciano’s eyes darkened. “He doesn’t get to question my decisions.”
“But he does. Because you’re not in control yet, are you?”
His silence was answer enough.
She stopped pacing. “Why bring me here, really?”
Luciano crossed the room slowly. “Because the second you stepped into my life, I stopped pretending I didn’t need anyone.”
“You don’t. You survive without people.”
“But I don’t want to anymore.”
Rose's breath hitched as he cupped her cheek. His thumb brushed her lips. His voice was barely above a whisper. “I’d burn the world to the ground if it meant keeping you safe.”
She leaned into his hand. “I don’t need the world to burn. I just need to know you won’t leave me in the ashes.”
“I won’t.”
Then his lips found hers—and this time, there was no hesitation. No line between danger and desire. Just fire, and the inevitable fall.
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Meanwhile – Grimaldi Clubhouse, East Harlem
Vincent Grimaldi slammed his glass down.
“She’s his weakness.”
Across the room, a figure in shadow stepped forward.
“Then we break him with her.”
The mole smiled from the dark. “Already working on it.”
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- Writer
