Chapter Three: The Dinner Trap
1167 Words
Eliana never thought putting on a red dress would feel like loading a weapon—but that’s exactly how it felt.
She stared at herself in the mirror, fingers twitching at the hem of the silk fabric that clung to her hips and dipped low across her back. It was elegant. Bold. Designed to be seen. It wasn’t her.
She wasn’t this—a pawn dressed up in crimson, paraded for enemies she didn’t even know.
But Alessandro had asked for red.
And part of her—maybe the part that hated being underestimated—wanted to see what would happen when she walked into his world on her own terms.
When she descended the marble staircase into the main foyer, the entire room stilled.
Dozens of men in black suits and women in diamonds turned toward her. Conversations died. Glasses froze halfway to lips.
Then she saw him—Alessandro—at the center of it all.
Dark suit. Black shirt. No tie. Casual power radiated from him like heat. And when he saw her, he smiled.
Not with his lips.
With his eyes.
He walked toward her slowly, each step echoing in the hall.
“You look like sin,” he murmured, stopping inches from her.
She met his gaze without flinching. “You said wear red.”
“I said make a statement. You made war.”
Eliana blinked, unsure if it was a compliment or a threat.
He offered his arm. She hesitated, then took it.
They moved through the crowd like a storm front—people parted, eyes lingered. Whispers followed them like shadows.
At the head of the long dinner table sat a silver-haired man with pale eyes that didn’t smile.
“Eliana,” Alessandro murmured beside her, “meet my uncle—Luca Moretti.”
So this was one of them. A man from the old guard. The kind who could order a m******e over dessert.
Luca stood and kissed her hand, but his eyes never left Alessandro.
“A beautiful bride,” he said. “And a bold one, to show her face so quickly.”
Eliana gave a polite smile. “Better to be seen than hunted, don’t you think?”
A few heads turned at that. Alessandro smirked.
Luca’s eyes twinkled coldly. “She’s quick. Dangerous, even.”
“She saved my life,” Alessandro said, pulling out a chair for her. “She’s earned her seat.”
Dinner was a tense, luxurious affair. Crystal glasses clinked over hushed conversation and veiled threats. Eliana picked at her food, heart pounding.
Every man at that table had blood on his hands.
Every glance across the wine and candlelight was a warning.
She wasn’t supposed to be here.
But Alessandro didn’t look away from her. Not once. Like her presence was a challenge he was daring the others to face.
“Tell me, Eliana,” Luca said suddenly. “What do you do now, that you’ve married into the family?”
“I’m a trauma nurse.”
“Still working?”
“Until recently,” she said coolly. “Apparently marriage came with a forced retirement.”
Luca chuckled. “So you were pulled from your life without consent?”
“She said yes,” Alessandro interrupted, voice low but firm.
Luca’s smile sharpened. “Did she?”
The table tensed. Eyes darted between them.
Alessandro leaned forward, resting his hand on Eliana’s thigh beneath the table. Protective. Possessive. She startled—but didn’t move away.
“I don’t make women do anything they don’t want to,” he said, eyes locked with Luca’s. “And I don’t explain myself at my own table.”
Luca raised his glass. “Of course, nephew. Forgive me. I forget how serious love can make a man.”
Love?
Eliana’s chest tightened.
This wasn’t love. This was survival. This was strategy.
But still… he hadn’t denied it.
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Later, as guests slowly filtered out and staff cleared empty glasses, Eliana walked the balcony alone, the cool air biting her bare shoulders.
She shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t feel anything.
But she couldn’t deny the way Alessandro looked at her like she was both his shield and his sin.
“You held your own tonight,” came his voice from the shadows.
She turned. He was standing against the doorframe, watching her like she was fire he was tempted to touch.
“I wasn’t going to let them see me as weak.”
“They don’t.”
“Your uncle doesn’t like me.”
“He doesn’t like anyone who might give me a reason not to trust him.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Are you saying this marriage—me—makes you vulnerable?”
He stepped closer. “I’m saying they think it does.”
“And what do you think?”
He was close now, his body heat wrapping around her like silk and smoke.
“I think you’re the most dangerous thing I’ve let into my life.”
Her breath caught.
He reached out, fingers brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. The touch was light, but it set her nerves on fire.
“Eliana,” he said quietly, “you don’t understand what you’ve stepped into.”
“Then tell me.”
He shook his head. “It’s not something I want to explain. It’s something I’ll have to show you.”
His lips hovered inches from hers.
“Why did you really marry me?” she asked, voice barely a whisper.
“Because I knew if I didn’t… I’d lose control of everything.”
“Of them?”
He shook his head slowly. “Of myself.”
Before she could respond, a sound cracked the air—a distant pop.
Gunshot.
Then another.
Glass shattered behind her. A bullet slammed into the wall.
“Down!” Alessandro roared, grabbing her and pulling her to the ground.
Screams erupted inside the house. Footsteps pounded on marble. More shots rang out from the tree line.
Alessandro threw his jacket over her head and covered her body with his. “Don’t move. Don’t speak.”
She felt his heartbeat against her back—fierce, rapid, alive.
Guards shouted. Tires screeched. And then silence.
After a long moment, Alessandro rose, checking the perimeter with deadly precision. His eyes scanned the trees like a predator.
Matteo appeared seconds later, gun drawn. “Two shooters. One hit. One fled. Eliana was the target.”
Alessandro’s expression turned to ice. “They just declared war.”
He turned to her, his hands gentle but his voice steel. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” she whispered. “Just shaken.”
He brushed her cheek again. “I told you they’d come.”
“You were right.”
“But what I didn’t say,” he murmured, helping her to her feet, “is that now that they’ve touched what’s mine… I won’t stop until I burn their world to the ground.”
- Writer
