Fragile To His Darkness

Chapter 4:Dinner With The Devil

Elara had never eaten at a table so long.

The dining room was huge, with a chandelier that looked like stars. The table could sit 20 people, but tonight, only two plates were set. One at the head of the table for Damon, and one right beside him for her.

"You did not have to wait for me," Elara said quietly, walking in. She wore a soft cream dress Maria had given her. It was simple but it hugged her small body.

Damon looked up from his phone. When he saw her, he stopped breathing for a second. She looked so fragile and beautiful, like she belonged in his dark house to bring light.

"I always eat at 8pm. You are exactly on time," he said, standing up and pulling her chair out himself. No man had ever pulled a chair for Elara before.

Maria served the food. Grilled chicken, mashed potatoes, vegetables, and a special soup for Elara's lungs. It smelled delicious.

"Eat. All of it," Damon ordered, but he said it while cutting her chicken into small pieces for her, so she would not have to stress her weak hands.

Elara ate slowly. She was not used to such rich food.

"Is it good?" he asked.

"Very good. Thank you," she whispered.

"Good. From now on, you will eat three times a day. No skipping. Maria told me you used to skip meals to give food to your siblings."

Elara's eyes filled with tears. "How do you know that?"

"I know everything about you, Elara. I know you sold your college textbooks to buy medicine for your brother. I know you worked two jobs at 18 until you collapsed and had to go to the hospital. I know you have not had a new dress in three years."

He said it all so calmly, like he was reading a report.

"Are you... investigating me?" Elara asked, scared.

"I am protecting my investment," Damon replied. But his eyes were soft. "And I don't like seeing what I own suffer. You suffered enough."

They ate in silence for a while. Then Damon asked, "What was your college dream? Your file said you wanted to go to college."

Elara smiled sadly. "Literature. I wanted to study English Literature. I love books. I love stories where the girl is saved at the end. Because in real life, no one saves girls like me."

Damon put down his fork. "What kind of story do you like?"

"Romance," she said shyly. "But not silly romance. Real romance where the man is dark and dangerous but he would burn the world for his woman."

Damon stared at her. "Burn the world?"

"Yes. Like... like if someone hurts her, he destroys them. If she is sick, he finds a cure. If she is cold, he gives her his coat. Like... like you did."

The room became very quiet. Elara realized what she just said and her face turned red like tomato.

"I... I mean... not you! I mean in books!"

Damon laughed. For the first time, he actually laughed, a deep, low laugh that made Elara's stomach flip.

"Little fragile girl, are you comparing me to your romance heroes?" He leaned closer. "You should be careful. Heroes in books are safe. I am not safe, Elara. I am the villain in most people's stories."

"But not in mine," Elara whispered before she could stop herself.

Damon's eyes darkened. He reached across the table and took her small hand in his big one. His hand was warm and rough, with a small scar.

"Say that again," he ordered quietly.

Elara's heart was beating so fast. "You are not the villain in my story."

Damon brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles gently. Just a soft kiss, but Elara felt it all over her body.

"Eat your food, Elara. Before it gets cold. And after dinner, you will go straight to bed. Doctor's orders."

She nodded, unable to speak. Her hand was still tingling where he kissed it.

After dinner, as she walked upstairs, she heard Damon on the phone in his office, his voice cold and dangerous.

"Leo, did you find the pharmacy that sold her fake medicine? Yes? Burn it to the ground. Make sure they never sell fake drugs to any sick girl again. And transfer 10,000 dollars to her parents' account. Tell them it is from Elara. She should not worry about them anymore."

Elara stopped on the stairs, tears in her eyes. He was burning the world for her. Just like in her books.

That night, she slept and did not cough once. Because for the first time in 8 years, her chest did not feel heavy with worry. She was safe. In the devil's house, she was safe.

And downstairs, Damon Black sat alone in his dining room, holding the small napkin she had used, looking at the lipstick mark she left, and feeling something he had not felt in 15 years. Something dangerous. Something like love.