Dining With The Devil

CHAPTER TWO

I woke up to the feeling of rough hands opening my legs and carelessly ripping my shorts away from my legs before forcefully throwing my legs apart.

I tried not to move or make sounds...because Daniel did not like it when I interrupted him while he used my body.

He forced himself into me, not caring to lubricate my entrance in anyway...It had become part of my morning routine... Like a chore I have to fulfill.

When he was done, he grunted, sinking his teeth into my left shoulder and pinning me there.

He just rolled off of my body while I scurried to prepare for his party.

As I looked at my reflection in the morrow, I looked tired, bruised, stretched thin by fear and just ready to give up, but makeup could do miracles when my survival depended on it.

I dabbed foundation over the fading purple bruise on my cheek, patting the sponge gently. My husband watched from the doorway with a cold impatience, tapping his watch.

“Hurry up,” he snapped. “I’m not walking in late because of you.”

I swallowed the urge to say because of what you did to me.

“You look… passable,” he muttered as I turned around and grabbed my clutch bag. “Just stay quiet and smile when spoken to. Try not to embarrass me tonight, Celene”

My stomach twisted.

It didn’t matter how many times he said it…it still hurt.

We drove in silence. He scrolled his phone the entire way, occasionally scoffing at something online, occasionally glancing at me like I was a stain on his luxury car.

I kept my hands folded, eyes on the passing city lights, the night had just began, but I could not wait for it to be over.

The venue was a sleek, glass‑walled restaurant on a private rooftop…one only the wealthy and powerful could afford to breathe in. Men in suits and women dripping in money mingled beneath a chandelier made entirely of crystal shards.

My husband’s posture shifted as soon as he stepped inside the grand hall. I watched his fake smile sliding into place, his voice warming, even his laugh became friendly and polished.

He became the man everyone believed he was.

He led me through the crowd, gripping my arm just tight enough to remind me who was in control.

“Don’t wander,” he said under his breath.

“I wasn’t planning to.”

“Good. Just sit and look pretty.”

He steered me toward a table where several men sat…business partners, investors, people who pretended to be respectable.

But there was one man they all looked nervous around.

He sat at the head of the table, relaxed yet radiating a quiet, dangerous stillness. Dark hair. Sharp jaw, with piercing blue eyes that seemed to miss nothing. He was dressed in an all black suit that was obviously expensive, tailored, and effortlessly commanding.

Even without an introduction, I knew who he was.

My husband hated him so much but was too scared of him to do anything about his feelings. The man was so powerful, most billionaires did not do business without getting his blessing first.

That was Cole Ryder.

The Mafia King.

Whenever my husband ranted at home, he called Cole a cold blooded criminal that thinks he is bigger than the law, but as I watched now, Daniel offered him a laughably enthusiastic handshake.

“Mr Cole! I’m glad you could make it. It is always truly an honour to see you at this events.”

Cole’s eyes lifted slowly from his drink.

I could tell immediately that he didn’t like my husband.

Not even a little. But he gave him a polite nod. “Your invite was almost bordering on begging. I had to come.”

My husband laughed too hard, like he couldn’t tell he was being dismissed.

Then those dark blue eyes shifted and landed on me.

It wasn’t a casual look or polite curiosity.

Not the quick, dismissive glance most men gave a wife whose husband spoke over her.

No. He was looking me… really looking at me, like he was reading every bruise under my makeup.

Like he noticed the tiny flinch I made when my husband touched my lower back.

Like he was memorising the way my eyes lowered every time a man raised his voice.

My breath caught in my throat.

“Good God, please don’t let this man speak to me in front of Daniel” I whispered under my breathe as I lowered my eyes to avoid contact with him.

He tilted his head slightly, and then looked back at my husband.

My husband waved a hand. “This is my wife, Celene. Don’t mind her, she’s quiet.”

“Is she?” he asked softly.

Daniel laughed loudly at nothing in particular. “ Oh yes… she’s almost too quiet, if you ask me.”

Cole’s gaze flickered to my face again and then to my wrist which I rushed to cover after following his eyes and finding a read bruise sticking out from under the foundation I had applied there.

His expression darkened slightly, but he shrugged his shoulder and gestured to the empty seat beside him.

“Sit,” he murmured.

It took a second for me to notice that he had been speaking to me and not to my husband.

Shock hit me so fast I froze on my feet… I could not move or breathe. He spoke to me. He was speaking to me… Daniel would kill me.

My husband’s smile faltered. “She usually sits by me, Mr…”

“I said,” Cole repeated, his voice low and smooth, “sit.”

It was obvious men like my husband crumbled in front of kings like him, because my husband, a full blown tyrant forced a smile and said… “Of course. Go on, sweetheart...sit.”

I moved to the seat, feeling eyes on me… some curious, some jealous, some were even terrified. Why did he have to single me out in front of a large crowd in a party that my husband organised?

Cole didn’t look away as I sat next to him.

“Are you alright?” he asked, quiet enough that only I heard it.

My lips parted, but no sound came out. My heart just kept hammering in my chest. After waiting a few seconds and not receiving a response from me, he didn’t push anymore.

He just watched me from the corner of his eye in that calm, unnervingly observant way.

Mr. Cole spoke rarely, but every time he did, everyone paused and listened.

At one point in the party, my husband reached across me to grab a bottle of wine. His fingers grazed my arm harder than necessary. I knew what it was immediately. A silent warning.

I flinched, pilling my hand back a little harder than I expected, I tried to cover it up with a cough but Cole Ryder’s eyes had already snapped to the movement.

He turned to my husband. “Careful.”

My husband chuckled. “Relax, Mr Cole. She’s fine. She’s just very clumsy.”

Mr Cole set down his glass.

“Are you sure that was just a clumsy reaction, Daniel? All through this event she has looked like she was in pain, her face looks very red. Shouldn’t you take better care of your own wife, Daniel?”

Silence fell across the table. And my blood went cold.

My husband cleared his throat, laughed too loud and then responded

“It’s just makeup…her skin is sensitive…”

Cole cut him off, while never breaking eye contact with me, and for the life of me, I could not pull my eyes away from him.

“Sensitive skin doesn’t bruise in a handprint pattern, Mr Daniel”

Fucking hell...

My lungs stopped working. I turned to look at Daniels face and it was reddened, humiliation twisting his mouth. “Watch yourself, Mr Cole. This is still my wife we’re talking about.”

Cole leaned back in his chair and the entire air shifted.

“Are you telling me what to do now, Daniel?” he asked quietly.

The room felt smaller, and even the walls felt like they were coming closer to me...

Every body at the table went still.

My husband forced another laugh. “You’re reading too much into things. My wife is…emotional.”

Cole looked at me again, his expression was softer this time.

“Is that true?” he asked.

My throat tightened painfully. “I...I…”

Daniel’s nails dug into my thigh under the table and when I looked up at Cole I just knew his sharp eyes had seen that too.

His jaw flexed and something in his eyes changed from pure curiosity to fury.

Knowing who he truly was, and what kind of job he truly did, fury from him meant someone was going to loose their head, and I did not know how I felt if that person was going to be my husband.

At the end of the night, as people started leaving, Daniel gripped my arm and began dragging me toward the elevator.

“Let’s go,” he hissed.

I stumbled on my feet as he pulled me behind him as he stormed ahead, then a hand closed gently but firmly around my wrist.

I stopped breathing as I turned as saw Cole.

He stood behind me, his touch feather‑light yet impossible to pull away from. His voice was low enough to vibrate against my spine.

“If you ever need anything…”

He paused, his thumb tracing once over the faint bruise on my wrist.

“…anything at all… come to me.”

Daniel stiffened beside me. “She won’t.”

Cole stepped closer, his lips near my ear, while he locked gazes with Daniel. his gaze locked on my husband.

“We’ll see.”

He released me and walked away like he hadn’t just shattered the entire axis of my life.