Chapter 49 The Restaurant Interrogation
The next evening, Silas sat across from Elara at Marchand’s, an upscale French restaurant off campus that required reservations and had prices that made his student council stipend wince. But Elara had insisted, and playing the devoted boyfriend meant agreeing to her requests.
The restaurant was dimly lit, all intimate shadows and flickering candles, designed for romantic dinners and quiet conversations. Elara looked beautiful in a deep green dress that complemented her eyes, and she’d been in an unusually good mood all evening, chattering about the upcoming arts festival and some drama with the planning committee.
Silas played his part perfectly: attentive, engaged, the picture of a boyfriend enjoying dinner with his girlfriend. But he was waiting. Waiting for the real reason she’d wanted this dinner, because Elara never did anything without calculation.
It came as their main courses arrived, slipped into the conversation with the practiced ease of someone who’d rehearsed the casual tone.
“Where did you disappear to after rehearsal yesterday?” Elara asked, cutting delicately into her salmon. “I looked for you for ages. Wanted to grab coffee, but you’d vanished.”
Silas didn’t miss a beat, had been expecting some version of this question since the dressing room. “Library,” he said, spearing a piece of steak. “Needed to look up some sources for my economics paper. Why, did you miss me already?”
He added a teasing smile, the kind of playful arrogance she usually ate up.
Elara laughed, the sound light and musical. “Of course not. I was just wondering.” She took a sip of wine, her eyes watching him over the rim of the glass. “It’s just… I could have sworn I saw you heading toward the dressing rooms. I thought maybe you’d gone to talk to Mia.”
The accusation was delivered so sweetly, wrapped in such casual curiosity, that anyone else might have missed the steel underneath. But Silas had been watching Elara for months now. He recognized a trap when he heard one.
He let out a short, sharp laugh that bordered on contemptuous. “Me and Torres? Are you serious right now?” He set down his fork, giving her his full attention with an expression of amused disbelief. “Why the hell would I go anywhere near her?”
“I don’t know,” Elara said, still in that too casual tone. “You two seemed awfully intense during the investigation of those packages she’s been getting. And I saw how you looked when she was crying yesterday.”
“I looked bored,” Silas corrected flatly. “Because I am bored of the entire situation. The girl has been nothing but drama since she got here, and honestly, I’m counting the days until she transfers out and we can all move on.”
He picked up his wine, taking a long drink before continuing. “You think I’d voluntarily spend time with her? The girl who’s been making my life complicated for months? Please. I have better things to do with my time.”
“So you didn’t go into the dressing room yesterday,” Elara pressed, and now there was something sharper in her voice, less hidden.
Silas met her eyes directly, channeling every ounce of conviction he could muster. “No, Elara. I went to the library, like I said. If you saw someone going into the dressing room, it wasn’t me. Unless I’ve developed the ability to be in two places at once.”
He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice to something more intimate. “Why are you suddenly so paranoid about me and Torres? You know she means nothing to me. Less than nothing. She’s a problem that’s solving itself by leaving, and good riddance.”
For a long moment, Elara just looked at him, her blue eyes searching his face for any crack in the facade, any hint of deception.
Silas held her gaze steadily, not backing down, not showing even a flicker of the guilt and confusion that churned beneath the surface. This was perhaps the most important performance of his life, and he couldn’t afford to break character.
Finally, Elara’s expression softened into something more playful, more like her usual self. “You’re right. I’m being silly.” She reached across the table to take his hand, her fingers cold against his. “I guess I just get a little jealous sometimes. You’re mine, and I don’t like sharing.”
“You’re not sharing,” Silas assured her, even as the possessive words made his skin crawl. “There’s nothing to share. You’re the only one I’m interested in.”
The lie tasted like ash, but he delivered it with a smile.
Elara seemed satisfied, or at least willing to pretend she was. The conversation shifted to safer topics: their classes, upcoming social events, mutual friends. But Silas noticed the way she watched him for the rest of the dinner, the slight calculation that never quite left her eyes.
She didn’t completely believe him. Part of her was still suspicious, still probing for weakness.
Which meant they’d have to be even more careful going forward, because Elara’s instincts were sharp, and she was starting to sense that something in her carefully constructed world wasn’t quite adding up the way it should.