Chapter 12 Dinner with the Devil
The sound of a soft bell echoed through the hallway and I knew it was announcing dinner.
I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the door. Part of me wanted to stay here, pretend I hadn't heard it. But deep down, I knew better. Ignoring Giovanni wouldn't be brave, it was stupid.
A gentle knock followed.
"Miss?"
The voice was unfamiliar so I walked to the door and opened it to find a middle-aged woman in a crisp black uniform, her graying hair pulled back in a neat bun.
Her eyes were kind but guarded, the look of someone who'd learned to keep her head down and her mouth shut.
"Mr. De Santis requests your presence in the dining room," she said quietly, her gaze dropping to the floor as if looking at me directly might be dangerous.
I took a slow breath, pushing a few loose strands of hair behind my ear. "Tell him I'll be there soon."
She nodded quickly, stepping aside as I walked past.
The hallway felt endless, lined with paintings that seemed to watch as I moved. My footsteps echoed off the marble floor.
When we reached the dining room, the maid opened the door and quietly disappeared like smoke.
Giovanni sat at the far end of a long table, dressed in a dark shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing strong forearms and the faint trace of old scars.
glass of red wine rested before him, untouched. He looked up the moment I entered, his gaze unreadable as always.
"You took your time," he said. His voice was calm, but heavy like a warning.
"You didn't give me a time," I replied, walking to the opposite end of the table, as far from him as possible.
One corner of his mouth lifted. "I didn't think I needed to."
"Maybe you should start thinking differently," I said, sitting down.
The maid appeared again, placing plates in front of us; grilled salmon, roasted vegetables, a perfect slice of lemon on the side.
It looked beautiful, but I had no appetite.
Giovanni didn't touch his food either. His eyes were fixed on me like glue.
"Do you like your room?" he asked after a moment.
"It's nice," I said simply. "Looks more like a museum than a bedroom, though. Everything's too perfect and it feels cold.”
"Cold?" he repeated softly, swirling his wine. "I'd call it order."
"Order or control?" I asked.
He looked at me for a long second before replying. "Control keeps things from falling apart, Arya."
"Or it just hides how broken they already are."
A faint smirk tugged at his lips. "Careful," he said quietly. "That mouth of yours can cause trouble."
"I'm not scared of trouble," I said, meeting his gaze.
"I know." His eyes darkened, and something in his expression shifted becoming more intense. "That's what makes you interesting."
The way he said interesting made heat crawl up my spine despite myself. Like I was a puzzle he was enjoying taking apart piece by piece.
Silence fell again. I could hear the faint ticking of a clock somewhere in the room. I kept my eyes on my plate, pretending to eat while my heart beat hard in my chest.
Then he spoke again, his voice lower this time. "You think I enjoy this?"
I looked up, frowning. "What?"
"Having to teach you obedience." His words were too calm. "I prefer peace. But peace comes only when people understand where they belong."
"And where do you think I belong?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.
He leaned back in his chair, eyes never leaving mine. The movement made his shirt pull tighter across his chest, and I hated that I noticed. "Right here. Until I decide otherwise."
My stomach twisted, but I didn't look away. "You can lock me in this house, Giovanni, but you'll never control what's in my head."
He stood slowly, pushing his chair back with a quiet scrape. "We'll see."
He walked around the table like a predator closing in on something that was pretending not to be trembling.
When he stopped beside me, I felt the heat of his presence before he even spoke. My pulse jumped, and I knew he could see it in the hollow of my throat.
He leaned down, close enough that I could feel the ghost of his breath near my ear.
"Dinner's over," he said softly. "Eat if you want. Or don't."
His hand came to rest on the back of my chair, fingers just barely brushing the fabric near my shoulder. “But remember this. Every choice you make in this house has a consequence. Every. Single. One."
He straightened, and I caught the flex of muscle in his jaw.
His fingers brushed the back of the chair one more time, a deliberate touch that sent a jolt through me, then he turned and walked away, leaving the room wrapped in silence and the ghost of his presence.
I sat there for a while, staring at the untouched food, my hands trembling slightly even though I tried to hide it. I clenched them into fists until they stopped.
After a deep breath, I picked up the fork and took a bite. The flavors hit instantly and my eyes fluttered shut for a second before I caught myself.
"I can't believe I almost didn't want to eat this," I muttered under my breath, a small scoff escaping me. "How dare I starve just because he's the biggest jerk on this planet."
I took another bite, slower this time, letting out a low hum of satisfaction despite myself.
"Yeah," I said quietly, stabbing the salmon with unnecessary force. "I can hate him and still eat like a queen."
The chandelier light shimmered across the table, glinting off crystal and silver. Somewhere behind me, I thought I heard a faint sound but when I turned, no one was there.
For the first time since walking into this mansion, I almost smiled. Not because I was happy, but because in my own small way, I had just refused to let him ruin everything.
I finished half the meal before pushing the plate away.
The silence of the house pressed in like fog. I should've gone straight to my room.
But something in me wanted to take a look at his office.
I tried to ignore the feeling but I eventually gave in, and took a sharp turn, heading towards the secrets I hoped I would find.