Chapter 14 The Devil at Dinner
Jack had torn the box apart molecule by molecule, gloves on, eyes sharp, feeding everything into a network of people I didn’t even know existed.
I didn’t flinch when I read Daniel’s message. I made sure of that. But not flinching didn’t mean it hadn’t cut. It slid under my skin quietly, settling somewhere deep, a reminder that I was being watched, measured, tested. That this wasn’t random cruelty. It was deliberate and strategic.
Jack stood at the far end of the penthouse, a burner phone pressed to his ear, his voice low and steady as he coordinated surveillance around the Sinclair Foundation reconstruction site. The city lights outside flickered against the glass, distant and uncaring.
A quiet task force was already in motion—people I had personally authorized, people who didn’t ask questions and didn’t leave fingerprints.
I could feel it in myself—the shift. The fear had burned out. What remained was something colder, sharper. My hands weren’t shaking anymore. My anger had settled into focus, into something useful.
“Elena,” Jack called, ending the call and sliding the phone into his pocket. “We’ve got someone scoping the old Sinclair archives. No digital trail. In and out twice this week. Face scan’s running now.”
I stood by the bar, coffee cooling untouched in my hand. I didn’t even blink.
“Let me know when we have a name. I want to know if they’re working with him… or if they’re scared of him.”
Jack crossed the room. “If there’s a mole, we’ll find them.”
Before I could respond, my phone buzzed on the counter. Unknown number. My pulse didn’t spike—I’d already learned better than that. I picked it up and answered without hesitation.
“Elena Vale speaking.”
The voice that replied felt like smoke sliding into my lungs. Familiar. Unwelcome.
“Elena,” Richard said smoothly. “I was hoping we could talk.”
My fingers tightened around the phone. “Richard.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Jack’s head snap up.
“I heard about the gala,” Richard continued, sympathy layered thick over curiosity. “A tragedy. But also… illuminating. You’re under quite a bit of pressure.”
“I’m managing,” I said flatly.
“Oh, I’m sure you are,” he chuckled. “Still, it might help to talk privately. Face to face.”
“Why?”
“Because I think I can help you,” he replied. “And because, deep down, I think you know you’ll need allies where this is going.”
“I already have allies.”
“Then bring one,” he said easily. “Narcisse.
Nine tonight. My treat.”
The call ended.
I stared at the dark screen for a moment before setting the phone down. The silence that followed felt loaded, like a held breath.
“What did he want?” Jack asked, his voice tight.
“He invited me to dinner.”
“No,” Jack said immediately, already shaking his head.
“He claims he wants to help.”
Jack laughed, sharp and humorless. “Richard Harrow doesn’t help. He trades. And there’s always a price.” His eyes shown with something I couldn't name.
“I know.”
“Then you’re not going.”
“I am.”
He stepped closer, frustration flashing across his face. “Then I’m going with you.”
I turned fully toward him, spine straight, voice calm and unyielding. “No, Jack. I’ll go alone.”
“Why the hell would you do that?”
“Because I know how he thinks,” I said, heat creeping into my words. “He feeds on weakness. If I show up guarded and furious, it tells him I’m afraid. I won’t give him that.”
He crossed his arms. “You’re not afraid?”
I held his gaze. “I’m angry. And I'm calculating. And I want him to think I’m undecided about who deserves my trust.”
Jack exhaled slowly. “You think this dinner is a test.”
“Yes,” I said. “He wants to see if I’m cracking. And if he thinks I am, he’ll start moving.”
For a moment, it looked like he might argue. Instead, he said, “You won’t be alone. I’ll have eyes on the room.”
“Okay, but stay back,” I warned. “I don’t want him sensing you.”
A faint smile curved Jack’s mouth. “Noted.”
Narcisse was exactly what I expected—low light, expensive whispers, the kind of place where deals were made over dessert and sins were forgiven with wine. I arrived alone, dressed in black silk that spoke quietly but confidently.
Richard was already waiting. He stood as I approached, smiling like a man greeting something he wanted but didn’t quite own.
“Elena,” he said. “You look… resilient.”
“And you look restless,” I replied, sliding into the booth.
We didn’t touch the menus.
“Why am I here?” I asked.
He leaned forward. “I wanted to see how much this chaos has affected you.”
“And?”
“I see fire,” he said. “But fire burns out without control.”
“I don’t need an anchor,” I said coolly.
“I’m offering a truce,” he replied. “Daniel Smith isn’t just after you. He’s after retribution. Vale Corp. Your father. The board.”
How the hell did he know that?
“You know about Daniel Smith.”
“I know a lot of things, Elena.” He said.
“What about you? What are you after and whose side are you on?”
“I’m neutral,” he said. “For now.”
I smiled thinly. “Neutrality never lasts.”
His gaze sharpened. “I want to know Jack Roman’s game, who he really is.”
Something cold settled in my chest.
“You’re afraid of my husband?”
“I don’t like ghosts,” Richard said. “Especially powerful ones.”
“Then you shouldn’t have pushed me into marrying one.”
Silence stretched between us.
“I see,” he murmured.
I stood. “I don’t need you, Richard Harrow. I learned how to survive without you.”
Then I left him there.
Back at the penthouse, Jack was waiting, sleeves rolled up with his tattoos peeking out more than they should, and the chessboard was reset between us.
“Well?” he asked.
“He’s nervous,” I said. “And Daniel’s aiming to burn everything.”
Jack nodded. “Did he offer an alliance?”
“Yes,” I said.
“As expected.”
“And I walked away.”
He smirked. “Shame.”
I reached down, grabbed the queen, and slammed it onto the chessboard.
“He’s coming,” I said quietly. “But he forgot something.”
Jack met my eyes.
“The queen never left the game.”