Ch 25: The Devil’s Table
The dining room was a cage of glass and flame.
At the head of the long table sat Dante. His smile was warm, welcoming—the smile of a man who had been waiting all evening for this exact pleasure.
"Ah! The newlyweds. Come, come—sit. We so rarely gather without the weight of business."
To his right, Valentina wore a brilliant red dress, her dark hair falling in perfect waves over bare shoulders. Her eyes found Elena immediately. Contempt flickered in her gaze, quick and sharp
Elena's stomach clenched. No matter how she looked at it, this dinner was a trap. Her feet to turn, to flee back to the bedroom, to the blanket, to the safety of a locked door.
Then Kazimir's hand found the small of her back. She looked up at him. He did not look down, but the warmth of his palm steadied her.
He guided her to the chairs on Dante's left and pulled one out for her. He waited until she was seated before taking his own place beside her.
The first course arrived. Fish, caviar, sauces—delicate works of art on porcelain.
Elena stared at the assortment of dishes before her, her mind going blank. She had never eaten food like this. The rules were invisible, and invisible rules were the most dangerous kind.
Where do I start? What if I do it wrong? The questions spiraled, each one a fresh wave of panic.
Beside her, Kazimir began to eat. His movements were deliberate, slower than usual. She watched from the corner of her eye as he cut into the fish, separating flesh from bone. Then, without asking, he transferred the pieces to her plate.
Elena stared at it then peeked at him. He wasn't looking at her—his attention was on the table, on the others. But he had noticed her paralysis and fixed it without a word.
She picked up her fork and nibbled on the food. It tasted good.
Meanwhile, the conversation at the table continued.
"...terrible business with the Conti shipment." Dante was saying. He swirled his wine. "But handled, I hear."
His eyes flicked to Kazimir. Elena caught the intent in them. She trembled slightly, almost dropping her fork.
"Though I also hear there was some internal housekeeping afterward. A few of our own men. Gone."
Kazimir continued eating, knife and fork moving steadily. "Pests."
Dante's smile widened. He tilted his head with an expression of fond amusement.
"Pests." He tasted the word, rolled it around his mouth. "Such a clean word. Men who worked for this family for years. Loyal soldiers. And you call them pests."
"They forgot what loyalty meant." Kazimir's voice was flat. "They touched what was mine."
Mine.
The word landed. Elena felt a strange flutter in her chest, but she kept her eyes on her plate.
Across from them, Valentina laughed—brittle, like glass breaking. "Mine. How possessive, Kaz. I hardly recognized you."
Her gaze slid to Elena, lingering on the high neck of the burgundy dress, on the hollows still visible beneath her cheekbones.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
"Though I suppose when you acquire something so fragile, you must be careful with it. Some men have no sense of proportion. They see something breakable and simply must test how far it bends."
Elena knew what Valentina was doing—a test, a probe, to make her flinch.
Don't react. Don't show her anything.
She forced her breathing to stay even. Her expression remained neutral. But beneath the table, her hand curled into a fist.
Dante sighed. "A shame. Good men, some of them." He paused. "But Kazimir is right. Loyalty without discipline is chaos." He raised his glass. "To discipline."
Valentina raised hers. Her eyes found Elena over the rim. "To knowing one's place."
Was that what this was? A reminder? A threat?
Elena's blood went cold. Her hands began to tremble.
Kazimir didn't raise his glass. He simply looked at Dante across the table, grey eyes winter-cold. The silence stretched.
"Is there a point to this meal? Or are we simply rehearsing the obvious?"
Dante's smile widened. If he was offended, he showed no sign.
"The point, Kazimir, is family." He set down his glass and leaned back. "I wanted to see my brother's son and meet his bride again."
His eyes found Elena. She felt them like a cold touch.
Don't look at me like that! I am not prey! The anger flared weakly. But her hands wouldn't stop shaking. The room seemed to contract around her, the walls pressing in, the chandeliers spinning slowly overhead.
"Oh, piccolina." Dante's voice was gentle, almost kind. "You're so quiet. Are you adjusting well to your new home? Are you two getting along?"
Piccolina. Little one. The endearment was a knife wrapped in silk. He knew what had happened to her. And here he was, discussing it like a curiosity to be examined.
How am I supposed to answer this? What does he want from me? The questions came, each one faster than the last. She couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. Couldn’t—
Then Kazimir's hand found her back—palm pressed against her spine, just below her shoulder blades. Steady. Grounding.
"She is my wife." His voice cut through the elegance. "She doesn't need to speak to be heard."
Elena glanced up at him involuntary—a creature checking its shelter. His profile was sharp against the firelight. Jaw tight. Eyes on Dante. But his hand remained on her back, warm and steady. A promise.
Wife. She had never heard him say that word. As if it meant something. A faint warmth crept up her neck and bloomed behind her ears. She didn't understand it—couldn't name it—but it was there.
Valentina's smile tightened. She laughed—thinner now. "How romantic, Kaz. I didn't know you had it in you."
Dante laughed, too. "Valentina, cara." He waved a hand toward the door. "Why don't you show piccolina the gallery? The moonlight through those windows is exquisite tonight. Kaz and I have business to discuss—man's business, too dull for delicate ears."
Delicate ears. A dismissal dressed as courtesy. Elena was being removed. Separated.
Her heart slammed against her ribs. Her lungs forgot how to breathe.
I can't go with her! I can't be alone with her! I don't want to!
She didn't know what Valentina would do. That was the worst part.
Valentina rose. Her red dress rippled like blood. She extended a hand toward Elena—a gesture of false grace. "Come, little bird. Let us leave the men to do their growling."
Elena sat frozen.
She turned and met Kazimir's steady eyes. His hand pressed against her back. A reassurance. A promise. He nodded once.
He wasn’t stopping this. But he had heard her fear and told her she will be okay. She studied his face for one more heartbeat then rose to follow Valentina.
Her legs were unsteady. Her hands trembled at her sides. She clasped them together, but they wouldn't stop shaking.
The gallery door loomed ahead. Beyond it was moonlight and shadows.
Elena pressed her palm to her back—to the spot where his hand had been. The warmth was already fading.
She glanced back.
Kazimir had already turned away, his attention on Dante. He didn't see her look.
She took a deep breath before she turned to the door and entered.
Last edited by Feiya Phia 5/6/26