CHAPTER 6- A DANGEROUS DINNER

From the moment Aria woke that morning, the mansion felt different. The usual silence was alive with quiet urgency-servants rushing, murmured orders echoing through the halls. Even the guards looked sharper, more alert.

She found Madam Rosa in the kitchen, directing maids with precision. The older woman's tone was clipped, her patience thinner than usual.

"What's happening?" Aria asked.

"Keep your questions to yourself," Rosa said, not looking up. "We have guests tonight. Important ones. You'll help Ivy with the table and serve when needed. No mistakes."

Aria frowned. "Guests? What kind of-"

"People who decide the fates of others with a word," Rosa interrupted. "The kind you don't look in the eye. Do as you're told, girl."

The rest of the day passed in a blur of cleaning, polishing, and tension. By late afternoon, Ivy appeared in a silk dress the color of wine, her hair flowing in soft curls.

"You're helping me tonight," Ivy said, handing Aria a black dress. "Lucian doesn't like outsiders seeing the staff look... ordinary."

Aria stared at the dress. "I'm not part of his display."

Ivy smiled faintly. "Oh, you are. You just don't know it yet."

By nightfall, the mansion was transformed. Golden light washed over marble floors, candles flickered against crystal, and the scent of expensive wine filled the air. The dining table stretched endlessly, glittering under chandeliers.

Aria tried to focus on the task-placing glasses, aligning silverware-but her thoughts kept drifting to Lucian. She hadn't seen him since morning. And yet, she could feel him-somewhere close, moving like the shadow that ruled this place.

The grand doors opened just before eight.

Lucian entered first. His presence silenced the room before he even spoke. Every inch of him was composed power-the black suit, the measured steps, the faint glint of his cufflinks. His gaze swept over everything once, sharp and assessing, before settling on Aria.

Only for a second. But it was enough to make her heartbeat stumble.

Then came the guests.

Three men, all dangerous in their own ways. The kind of men whose smiles never reached their eyes. Aria recognized power when she saw it-each of them carried it like a weapon.

Marco Leone was the loudest. Broad shoulders, slicked hair, too much cologne. He laughed like he owned the world and walked like no one could stop him.

"Lucian," he called, slapping a hand on Lucian's shoulder. "Still as cold as the rumors say. Tell me, when's the last time you smiled?"

Lucian's reply was calm, smooth. "When I realized silence is more profitable than noise."

The others chuckled, though the tension never broke.

Dinner began. The sound of cutlery filled the air, polished and rhythmic. Aria moved carefully beside Madam Rosa, refilling glasses and serving dishes. She kept her head bowed, eyes low-but she could feel Marco watching her.

When she placed a plate before him, his hand brushed hers. The touch was deliberate, lingering.

She froze.

Lucian's voice came instantly. "Marco."

That single word cut through the laughter like a blade.

Marco smiled lazily. "Relax, Moretti. I was only admiring your taste in décor. The staff here is... exquisite."

Lucian set his fork down, every motion slow, controlled. "You're in my house. Mind your mouth."

The silence that followed was suffocating. Even the air seemed to stop.

Marco leaned back, smirk still in place. "Ah, I see. She's special, isn't she? The Devil has a heart after all."

Lucian didn't speak. He just stared. The kind of stare that promised violence.

When Marco reached for his wine again, Lucian's hand moved-swift and precise. The glass shattered under his grip, shards scattering across the table. A thin line of blood ran down his fingers, but he didn't flinch.

"Touch her again," Lucian said quietly, "and I'll break more than glass."

Marco's smile faltered.

The other men avoided his gaze. No one breathed until Lucian leaned back in his chair, unbothered, as if nothing had happened.

Dinner continued in uneasy silence. Aria kept her eyes on her hands, her pulse racing. She didn't know what frightened her more-the threat in Lucian's tone or the fact that it had been for her.

Later that night, after the guests were gone and the house returned to stillness, Aria stayed by the hall, staring at the faint red stain on the broken glass left behind.

She didn't hear Lucian approach until he spoke.

"You disobeyed Rosa."

Aria turned, startled. "I didn't. I served dinner. That's all."

"You stayed," he said simply. "You watched. You should've left after the second course."

She frowned. "I wasn't hiding. I wanted to help."

Lucian stepped closer, his gaze unreadable. "Help? Or stay close?"

The question struck her harder than she expected. "What are you accusing me of?"

"Nothing." He paused. "Yet."

Aria exhaled sharply. "You're unbelievable. I didn't ask for any of this-your debt, your dinner, your warnings. I'm just trying to survive."

Lucian's voice softened, but his words didn't. "You think survival is simple here?"

He moved closer still, stopping just inches away. She could see the faint cut on his hand, the thin streak of blood. Without thinking, she reached out, catching his wrist gently.

"You're bleeding."

He looked down at her touch, eyes flicking from her hand to her face. "It's nothing."

"It's not," she said, grabbing a cloth from the tray and wrapping it around his fingers. "You shouldn't bleed for people like me."

Lucian's expression didn't change, but his heartbeat did. He could feel her warmth through the thin fabric, her breath too close.

"I told you before," he murmured, voice low. "You don't understand what kind of man I am."

Aria met his eyes, fearless this time. "Then maybe you should show me instead of hiding behind it."

For a heartbeat, he almost smiled. Almost. Then he stepped back.

"Go to bed, Aria," he said quietly. "Before I stop pretending I don't want to keep you here forever."

She didn't move until he disappeared down the hall. Her fingers trembled where they'd touched him. And though she hated herself for it, a part of her wanted him to turn back.

In his study, Matteo found Lucian sitting by the window, whiskey untouched beside him.

"You nearly lost control tonight," Matteo said.

Lucian didn't look up. "Marco crossed a line."

"He always does," Matteo said. "But you never cared before."

Lucian's jaw tightened. "He touched her."

Matteo leaned against the desk. "You're slipping, brother. You don't protect people. You destroy them."

Lucian's eyes flicked to him, cold but tired. "Maybe I'm just choosing who deserves to burn."

Matteo shook his head, though there was a hint of a smile. "You sound like a man in denial."

Lucian poured himself a drink, the amber liquid catching the light. "She's not mine."

Matteo tilted his head. "And yet you bled for her."

Lucian said nothing. He stared out the window, where the city stretched endlessly below, and whispered-more to himself than anyone else-

"She's not mine. But she will be."

Across the hall, in the quiet dark, Aria lay awake, replaying the moment she touched his hand. Her chest felt tight, her mind louder than it should be.

Fear wasn't the only thing keeping her up anymore.

It was curiosity.

It was heat.

It was danger.

And maybe, just maybe, it was him.