Dine with Me

Dine with Me
A Few Days Later— Megan’s POV...

The silverware glinted under the soft glow of the chandeliers that sparkled overhead. The dining room was massive— marble floors gleaming like a mirror beneath the long, polished mahogany table lined with gold-rimmed plates and steaming trays. The aroma of roasted beef, honey-glazed vegetables, spiced rice, fiber-rich fruits, and chilled red wine mixed in the air, painting temptation in the atmosphere.

Megan sat at the far end of the table, legs crossed, one hand lazily circling her wine glass while the other tapped her fork against her plate. Her expression soured.

She flicked her gaze sharply toward the wall nearby where Julian stood, arms gently folded, her back lightly resting against the polished paneling. Megan’s voice sliced through the calm.

“Where the fuck is the bitch? Does she expect me to finish all this food by myself?” she asked, waving a hand toward the towering display of delicacies like they were garbage.

Julian straightened immediately, standing upright with her palms by her side. “She’s probably on her way, ma’am.”

Megan narrowed her eyes. “Are you sure you went to her room and told her I asked her to join me for breakfast?”

“Yes, ma’am. I did,” Julian replied quickly, blinking as a bead of nervous sweat trailed behind her ear.

“Go again and tell her I’m waiting,” Megan said, her voice flat, her eyes unreadable.

“Yes, ma’am.” Julian dipped into a hasty bow before exiting, her slippers slamming rapidly against the marble floor as she vanished beyond the tall double doors.

Julian rushed through the echoing hallways, past oil paintings, velvet curtains, and gold-rimmed wall sconces. Up one staircase. Down another. She arrived at the towering doors of Emily’s room and knocked.

Once.
Twice.
Thrice.

A voice drifted from inside— soft but sharp. “Come in.”

Julian pushed the door open. Inside, Emily sat on the edge of her bed, her legs dangling, her dark hair cascading in waves over her shoulders. Her silk robe barely clung to her figure.

“What do you want?” Emily asked without looking up, her voice laced with boredom.

Julian stepped inside and bowed. “I came to remind you, ma’am. Madam Megan is waiting for you in the dining room.”

Emily scoffed. “Oh, so you were serious the first time you came?”

“I was, ma’am. Very serious.”

Emily turned her head slowly toward Julian, one brow raised. “And why the hell would she do that? This is probably some setup. Another one of her stupid games.”

She rose from the bed and walked toward a standing mirror. “Tell her to fuck off.”

Julian let out a quiet sigh, almost muttering to herself. “So I should tell her you’re no longer coming, contrary to what you initially said?”

Emily paused. She caught the faint tremble in Julian’s voice. Her eyes flicked toward the girl’s reflection in the mirror.

“She’s going to punish me for this,” Julian whispered again.

Emily turned, arms folded across her chest. Then, reluctantly, “On second thought… tell her I’ll be there shortly.”

Julian spun around, disbelief in her voice. “You will?”

Emily walked to her wardrobe. “I will. I just need to change. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Julian dropped her shoulders in relief. “Thank you,” she whispered, bowing again before hurrying out.

Back in the dining hall, Megan sat alone still, her wine glass now half empty. She heard the distant clicks of heels before the doors creaked open.

Emily entered slowly, wearing a sleek white blouse tucked into high-waisted beige trousers. Her hair was brushed, skin glowing in the amber chandelier light.

Megan straightened in her seat, her lips pulling into a smile laced with venom. “Finally… her grace decided to grace us with her presence.”

Emily stopped at the far end of the table, her hand on the chair’s backrest. “Is this why you summoned me here?” Her eyes cold. “I’ll leave now. I don’t have time for your stupid games. I know you don’t like me.”

Megan raised a hand calmly. “Wait. Wait. I know we started on the wrong foot. That was my fault. I’ve been… difficult. But I want that to change.”

Emily tilted her head, unmoved.

“You’re not leaving this house anytime soon,” Megan continued. “And I see that now. So why don’t we try being friends?”

Emily blinked. Once. Twice. Her brows lifted. “Friends?” she repeated, her tone laced with disbelief.

She looked toward Julian, who stood in a corner, avoiding eye contact. Then back to Megan. Slowly, Emily pulled the chair back and sat.

“Yes,” Megan said, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. “Friends. I’m tired of fighting. I have a yacht party coming up next weekend. I want you there.”

Emily studied her. “You want me… at your yacht party?”

“Yes. Just think about it. I’m not asking you to promise anything. Just… think about it.”

Emily leaned back slightly, arms folded. “Fine. I’ll think about it. Doesn’t mean I’m coming.”

“That’s all I need to hear.” Megan smiled sweetly, then gestured toward the food. “Now, let’s turn a new leaf. Dine with me.”

Emily glanced at the dishes. The perfectly cut roast beef. The delicately arranged fruit platters. The sparkling wine. Her gaze lingered on Megan, then shifted to Julian who gave her the faintest nod of encouragement.

She picked up a fork.

Megan did the same, her eyes glittering.

Somewhere behind her pleasant smile, something dark flickered. A game had begun.

And Emily had just unknowingly taken her seat at the board.