Chapter 5 - The Dinner Table
By eight o'clock that evening, the rain was pouring in relentless sheets, drumming against the slate roof of the estate. The house was quiet again, the guards outside having resumed their silent, invisible positions along the perimeter.
I had just finished tucking Mateo into his large canopy bed, reading him two chapters of a book about dinosaurs until his breathing turned slow and heavy.
I stepped out into the quiet hallway, pulling the door shut until it clicked softly, and turned to find Luca leaning against the wall opposite the door, a crystal glass of amber whiskey held loosely in his right hand.
"He's asleep," I said softly, smoothing down my sweater.
"I know," Luca said. "I heard you reading."
"He likes the ones with the big pictures."
Luca didn't answer right away. He took a small sip of his whiskey, his eyes fixed on me in the dim light of the hallway sconces. "Come down to the dining room. You haven't eaten."
"I can eat in my room—"
"Claire," he interrupted, his tone gentle but firm. "Sit with me."
I hesitated, but the exhaustion in his posture made it impossible to say no. I followed him down the grand staircase into the formal dining room, a room dominated by a dark mahogany table long enough to seat twenty people.
Tonight, only two places were set at the far end near the roaring marble fireplace.
Mrs. Gable brought out two plates of seared salmon, roasted vegetables, and fresh bread, setting them down with a quiet nod before disappearing into the kitchen wing.
We ate in silence for several minutes, the only sound being the crackle of the fire and the rain beating against the tall French doors.
"Who was that man today?" I asked finally, setting my fork down. "Vance?"
"Frank Vance," Luca corrected smoothly, setting his glass on the table. "He controls the distribution network through the northern rail lines. His son thought he was untouchable because of his father's position. He learned today that no one is untouchable."
"What did you say to him?" I asked, looking him straight in the eye. "At the gate. On the hood of the car."
Luca's mouth curved into a faint, dark smile. "I told him that if his family ever came within ten miles of this estate again, I would sell his rail lines to his rivals and leave his family without a cent or a protector in this city."
I shivered slightly at the absolute coldness of his tone. "Is that all it takes? Threatening their money?"
"In my world, money is life," Luca said softly, leaning back in his chair. "Without it, you cannot buy soldiers. Without soldiers, you cannot buy survival. Frank Vance understands that language very well."
He paused, his dark eyes studying my face with an intensity that made my skin warm. "You don't belong in this world, Claire. You shouldn't be here."
"Then why did you bring me here?" I countered, leaning forward across the table. "You could have hired fifty trained security guards to watch Mateo. Men with guns. Men who know how to fight."
"Because men with guns fight for money," Luca said quietly, his voice dropping into a low, resonant register. "They don't throw themselves over a six-year-old child when the glass starts flying. They calculate the risk before they move. You didn't calculate anything. You simply saved him."
He reached across the small distance between us, his fingers resting lightly over mine on the dark wood of the table. His skin was warm, rough, and sent a sudden, electric shock straight up my arm.
"I can give you anything you want, Claire," Luca whispered, his dark eyes locking onto mine with an unyielding power. "Safety, wealth, freedom. But in exchange, I need you to stay."
I stared at his hand over mine, my breath catching in my throat. The waitress who couldn't afford twenty-three dollars was gone. Sitting across from me was the most dangerous man in the city, holding my hand like I was the only thing standing between him and the dark.
May you like
"I'm not leaving Mateo," I said softly.
Luca's thumb rubbed gently over the back of my hand, a slow, deliberate movement that made my heart race. "Good," he whispered. "Because I don't think I could let you go even if you asked."
