Chapter 5: Dinner with the Devil

I hated the dress before I even put it on.

It wasn’t mine. None of this was mine. The silk fabric slid over my skin like it belonged in another life—one I didn’t choose, one I didn’t ask for. Black, elegant, simple in a way that still somehow screamed wealth.

“Of course they picked black,” I muttered, staring at myself in the mirror.

Like I was mourning something.

Or someone.

I turned slightly, the reflection staring back at me unfamiliar. My hair was done too—softly styled without my permission. It made me look… different. Softer. More like someone who belonged in a world like this.

I hated that.

A knock came at the door.

I didn’t answer immediately.

It opened anyway.

Marco stepped in.

His eyes briefly scanned me before he nodded once. “It’s time.”

I scoffed. “Like I have a choice.”

“You don’t,” he said calmly.

I rolled my eyes and grabbed the hem of the dress. “Yeah, yeah. Lead the prisoner to her execution dinner.”

He didn’t react.

That silence was becoming his personality.

We walked through the hallway in silence. Long corridors. Expensive art. Security at every corner. It felt like walking through a museum that had teeth.

“Does he always eat like this?” I asked finally.

Marco glanced at me. “Like what?”

“Like he kidnaps people first and then invites them to dinner.”

A faint pause.

“Yes,” he said.

I let out a short laugh. “Wow. Consistency. I’ll give him that.”

We reached a large set of double doors.

My stomach tightened.

This was it.

Marco opened them.

The dining room was… ridiculous.

A long table stretched across the room, polished wood reflecting the soft golden lighting above. It wasn’t just a dining room—it was a statement. Wealth, control, power.

And at the far end of the table—

Luca De Santis.

Sitting perfectly still.

Waiting.

He didn’t move when I entered. Didn’t smile. Didn’t react.

But his eyes… they did.

They locked onto me instantly.

And something shifted.

I hated that I noticed it.

“Sit,” he said simply.

Not loud. Not harsh.

Final.

I stayed where I was.

“No,” I replied.

Silence hit the room instantly.

Marco shifted slightly behind me.

Luca didn’t look surprised.

Of course he didn’t.

He leaned back slightly in his chair, studying me like I was a problem he already knew the answer to.

“You will sit,” he repeated calmly.

I crossed my arms. “Or what?”

A pause.

Then he stood.

That alone changed the air.

Not because he was aggressive—but because the room seemed to acknowledge him more when he moved. Like even silence adjusted itself around his presence.

He walked toward me slowly.

Too slowly.

Like he had all the time in the world.

I didn’t step back this time.

I refused.

He stopped right in front of me.

Close enough that I could feel the shift in temperature.

“You’re testing limits again,” he said quietly.

“I’m not testing anything,” I snapped. “I’m refusing.”

His eyes lowered slightly to my face.

That same stare.

The one that felt like memory and danger at the same time.

“You don’t refuse much,” he said.

“I do here,” I shot back.

A faint flicker passed through his expression.

Interest again.

Always that.

“You’re consistent,” he murmured.

I frowned. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“No,” he said simply.

That made me pause.

Before I could respond, he turned slightly and gestured toward the chair beside the head of the table.

“Sit there.”

I looked at the seat like it offended me.

“No.”

His gaze returned to mine instantly.

And this time, it was sharper.

Not angry.

Just certain.

“You will sit there,” he said again, slower this time.

Something in my chest tightened—but I refused to show it.

I walked past him instead and pulled out the chair… but not the one he pointed at.

I sat at the opposite side of the table.

Far from him.

Intentional.

Silence followed.

I felt his eyes on me immediately.

Heavy.

Calculating.

Then—

A faint exhale.

Almost… amused.

“Marco,” he said without looking away from me.

“Yes, boss,” Marco replied.

“Leave us.”

My head snapped slightly. “Excuse me?”

Marco hesitated.

“Sir—”

“Leave,” Luca repeated.

No raise in voice.

No emotion.

Just command.

Marco obeyed.

The doors closed behind him.

Now it was just us.

The room suddenly felt bigger.

Or maybe emptier.

I leaned forward slightly. “What is this? Some kind of psychological experiment?”

Luca didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, he sat back down slowly, never breaking eye contact.

“This is dinner,” he said simply.

“With my kidnapper?” I scoffed.

His gaze flickered slightly at the word.

But he didn’t correct me.

That silence again.

It always meant something with him.

Servants entered quietly, placing food on the table. Too much food. Too expensive. Plates I couldn’t even identify.

I didn’t touch anything.

Of course I didn’t.

Luca watched me the entire time.

Not the food.

Me.

“You’re not eating,” he said eventually.

“I don’t take food from strangers who kidnap me,” I replied.

A faint pause.

“You’ve been here days,” he said.

“And I’m still kidnapped,” I shot back.

That earned a slight tilt of his head.

Like I was entertaining him.

That annoyed me more than anything else.

“You’re stubborn,” he said.

“I’ve been told worse.”

“By who?” he asked.

I blinked slightly.

That wasn’t the direction I expected.

“People who didn’t kidnap me,” I replied dryly.

Silence.

Then—

A faint smirk.

Barely there.

But it existed.

And it made something in my stomach twist.

“You’re different today,” he said.

I frowned. “I’m the same person.”

“No,” he said quietly. “Yesterday you were afraid.”

I stiffened slightly.

“And today?” I asked.

His eyes held mine.

“Today you’re angry.”

I leaned back in my chair. “Congratulations. You noticed basic human emotions.”

That should’ve annoyed him.

It didn’t.

Instead, he leaned forward slightly.

Like he was interested in something only I could give him.

“You adapt quickly,” he said.

“I survive quickly,” I corrected.

That made something shift in his gaze again.

Not amusement this time.

Something deeper.

A pause stretched between us.

Then—

“Why do you hate me?” he asked suddenly.

The question caught me off guard.

I blinked. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

I laughed once. “Let me think. You kidnapped me, locked me in a mansion, and are forcing me into dinners. Should I list more reasons?”

He didn’t react.

Just watched.

That steady, unreadable stare.

Then—

“That is not the reason,” he said quietly.

I froze slightly.

My jaw tightened. “You want a deeper reason? Fine. I hate that you think you can control people like objects.”

Silence.

He studied me for a long moment.

Then—

“I don’t control people,” he said.

I scoffed. “That’s funny.”

“I control outcomes,” he corrected.

“That’s worse.”

A faint pause.

Then—

“You look at me like I’m your enemy,” he said.

“You are.”

Another pause.

Longer this time.

Then he said something that made my breath catch slightly.

“I have enemies,” he said quietly. “You are not one of them.”

I frowned. “Then what am I?”

Silence.

He didn’t answer immediately.

And for the first time since I met him—

He looked unsure.

Not weak.

Not soft.

Just… disturbed by the answer he couldn’t say.

“You are…” he started.

Then stopped.

His jaw tightened slightly.

And for the first time—

Luca De Santis didn’t finish his sentence.