DINNER SECRETS
947 Words
Chapter 23
The bookstore felt different to Elena after the kiss she shared with Damien last night. It felt as though the air itself held a secret only she and Damian knew of. Elena tried to lose herself in routine, stacking shelves, dusting displays, and greeting customers with a smile. But no matter how hard she tried, her body betrayed her. Every chime of the bell sent her pulse racing. Every glance at the door had her expecting to see him leaning against his car.
And when he finally appeared, she nearly dropped the stack of books in her arms in excitement.
He entered without a word, tall and commanding in a dark coat, the subtle shift of the air enough to announce his presence. He didn’t browse. He didn’t ask for her attention. He just watched. His gaze followed her as if she truly belonged to him, as though every step she took was tethered to his restraint.
By the time the last customer left, Elena gathered her things, preparing to step out of the bookstore and lock it; she was done for the day. Damien followed her as she stepped out
“Dinner,” he said simply, as though it wasn’t a question.
Elena blinked at him, her hands tightening around her keys. Dinner? Okay, she nodded.
---
The rooftop restaurant was extravagantly built and decorated, elegant music played softly, the kind that made you forget time.
Damian guided her to a secluded table by the edge, away from curious eyes. His hand barely touched the small of her back, but the ghost of his touch lingered long after he pulled away.
“You’ve done this before with someone else,” Elena murmured, trying to mask her nerves.
“Dinner?” His lips curved faintly. “Yes. But not like this.”
Something in his voice made her chest tighten. She lowered her gaze to the menu, though the words blurred in front of her.
A waiter came to take their order.
When the waiter left them, silence settled between them—thick, charged. Damian didn’t seem to be in a rush to fill it. He leaned back, studying her with an intensity that made her skin warm.
“You’re nervous,” he said.
“I’m not.”
He raised a brow.
“Fine. Maybe a little,” she admitted, her voice barely above the music.
Damien chuckled, “You'd get used to it.”
Dinner passed in moments and hours all at once. Damien asked about her childhood, about the bookstore, about the little details no one else cared to know. She found herself speaking more than she expected, her words spilling out in nervous fragments that he listened to as if each one mattered.
And yet, for all the warmth threading between them, Elena suddenly felt that something was wrong; she felt it first when she caught a flicker of movement near the bar. A man sat there, alone, not eating, not drinking. Just watching them menacingly.
Her breath hitched. She tried to look away, but her pulse thrummed with unease. When she dared glance back, the stool was empty.
She gripped her glass tighter.
“Damian,” she murmured.
He didn’t ask what she saw. He had noticed, too. His gaze flicked to the bar, then back to her. Calm, but razor-sharp.
“Is it one of them?” She asked, her voice thin.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“That’s not an answer.”
His silence was heavier than any denial.
What the hell! Elena’s chest tightened. Why was this happening again? The first time she had dinner with Damien, his enemies showed up; even now, they couldn't make an exception. At least, they could give them a bit of space to enjoy each other's company without fear of being hunted or followed by people who would take their lives at the slightest hint of carelessness.
Elena leaned closer, as though proximity could shield her.
By dessert, the tension between them was unbearable. His hand brushed hers across the table, lingering a heartbeat longer than necessary. His fingers were warm, his touch steady.
“Elena,” he said quietly; his voice threaded with something raw.
She swallowed, her throat dry. “What?”
“You make me want things I shouldn’t want.”
Her chest tightened. “Like what?”
His gaze held hers, unflinching, almost pained. “Peace. Trust. A future, but being a Mafia Lord, those things are a luxury for me.”
The words knocked the air from her lungs. She wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that beneath the darkness there was a man who longed for the same fragile, impossible things she did.
But she also knew the truth. His peace came wrapped in danger; his trust bound in silence; his future paved with enemies.
And yet, as she stared into his eyes, she realized she was already surrendering to him, thread by thread.
Not because he had claimed her. But because, despite everything, she wanted him to.
---
When the waiter brought the bill, Damian dismissed it with a wave. As they stood, he offered his hand, palm open, waiting. Elena hesitated for a breath, then slipped her fingers into his.
The city glittered below them like a promise too beautiful to be real. Elena knew this night was dangerous; she knew that surrendering even a little meant losing control.
- Writer
