Chapter 17

*Laurie*

Theron led me away from Leonardo and their suffocating stares. I followed, my heels clicking softly against the marble floor, each step feeling heavier than the last.

We soon got to the front row and I noticed an elevated, grand, perched chair, above the rest like a throne overlooking a kingdom. Obviously, prepare for the star of the event.

No, I wouldn't have guessed that Theron would be so shameless as to crash a person's party and still be the star of it. Fuck! Does this man have to dominate everything? Plus, he's taking me there as well!!? I felt like burrowing myself into the ground at his level of shamelessness.

I was expecting him to veer off. Or even pull me aside. To claim a quieter corner. But no; he led me right to the throne of the room. And without a word, he gestured for me to sit.

I hesitated. I wasn't that thick-skinned!! My gaze flicked from the chair to the countless eyes now burning holes into my skin.

||Just play along|| I reminded myself before shamelessly accepting to sit.

The cushion was impossibly soft beneath me, the leather still warm from the last soul brave enough to sit there.

Theron didn’t take the seat beside me. He stood for a moment, surveying the room like a king reviewing his subjects.

And then, carefully pulled the chair a bit behind and then sat. He was like a shadow. Close enough to speak, far enough to remind everyone who the true threat was.

Almost instantly, a pair of servers appeared. One with a silver tray of glistening fruit; grapes, pomegranate, berries so ripe they looked like rubies. The other held two crystal goblets of wine, the liquid dark and sensual, like blood kissed by candlelight.

They didn’t ask permission.

They simply bowed, placed the offerings on the table before me, and left quickly. Theron didn’t look at them. I bet he didn't even have to.

His voice was soft, but it sent a jolt down my spine.

“Eat.”

I turned to him. My fingers curled slightly on the edge of the table, and for a moment, I simply stared at him. He wasn’t looking at the fruit. He was looking at me. God in heaven, what is going through this man's mind!!? What is he planning?

Was he studying me? Or maybe, testing me?

“Are you always this generous with fruit and fine wine?” I asked, trying to sound unaffected. But there was a tremor beneath the surface.

Theron’s smirk was lazy. Dangerous.

“I can be,” he murmured. “But not for everyone.”

I looked down at the spread again. The fruit glistened in the low golden light, sensual and inviting.

But…

“You do realize,” I said slowly, “that you’re not exactly the kind of man who gets invited without suspicion.”

He didn’t respond.

“I mean…” I turned back to him. “Aren’t you even a little concerned that any of this could be poisoned?”

My question hung in the air between us like a blade. Theron chuckled.

“Then eat,” he said, tilting his head slightly, “and confirm if it is.”

My heart stuttered. I stared at him. Was he serious? A shiver rolled down my spine, cold and sharp.

Damn! What was I thinking? He hadn't changed. He couldn't have even changed either.

Still ruthless and undeniably wicked to the core. Yet, my fingers moved almost involuntarily as I plucked a single pomegranate seed from the tray. It was warm and wet. I brought it to my lips, never breaking eye contact with him.

Then I ate it. He watched every second of it. And when I swallowed, I finally said, in a low and defiant voice, maybe even a little teasing.

“Well. I guess I’ll let you know in five minutes if I drop dead.”

His eyes darkened. But the corner of his mouth curved. I was still tasting the lingering sweetness of pomegranate on my tongue when a shadow loomed over the table.

“Theron Blackmoor,” a man spoke, his voice cutting through the ambiguous atmosphere between us. He tried so hard to sound important that even I could tell he was fake.

“I’ve been hoping for a moment of your time all evening.”

Theron didn’t look up immediately. He remained still… so that the tension that coiled around him became obvious, almost suffocating. Then slowly, he turned his head, his face was completely expressionless.

“Have you?” he said, the words were smooth but dipped in ice.

I glanced at the intruder. He was tall. Well-dressed. His suit was custom, his tie pinned with a diamond clip that screamed desperate to impress.

His salt-and-pepper hair was slicked back, and his smile was the kind businessmen wore when they thought they were charming. The kind that came with contracts and hidden claws.

He spared Theron half a second more before his eyes shifted… and landed on me.

“Ah…” he said, the smirk widening. “And who might this exquisite creature be?”

I held his gaze and didn’t flinch. But my spine straightened, my fingers curling slightly under the table.

Theron’s face didn’t change, not even a twitch.

“She’s not part of any deal,” Theron said finally, his voice deceptively calm.

The businessman chuckled, clearly mistaking Theron’s quiet tone for permission.

“Of course not. Of course not,” he said with mocking sincerity. “But beauty like this deserves to be acknowledged. I must say, Theron… your taste is as impeccable as your reputation.”

Theron slowly reached for his wine glass, lifted it lazily, and took a slow sip, never taking his eyes off the man.

“Flattery,” he murmured after a beat, “doesn’t taste nearly as good as silence. But I’ll accept it… for now.”

The man faltered, his smile weakened.

“I was hoping we could discuss a potential cooperation. My firm has been expanding into markets I believe align with your—ah—interests. Discreet logistics. High-value transport. Mutual benefits?”