I tug my deep blue dress a little higher on my chest as I step out of the elevator, my heart thudding like a bass drum in my ears. The dress fits like a glove, silky, backless, and far too fancy for a simple dinner. I thought I was having dinner alone with Lucien; the way he summoned me made it sound like something...intimate.
But when I open the tall double doors, my breath catches in my throat. The dining table stretches across the room like something out of a mafia movie. Crystal glasses, polished silverware, and candlelight flickering off gold-rimmed plates.
And people. A lot of people. I don't know why, but here I am, a bit disappointed. Maybe I wanted to be alone with Lucien Moretti. But why? Before I can think further, my eyes are drawn to Lucien, who is sitting at the head of the table like a damn ruthless king.
To his left: Matteo, arms folded and smirking. Rafe, already sipping red wine. Clara, in a sleek green dress. Elena, looking sharp and icy as usual. Beatrice's face lights up when our eyes meet. But it is the woman at the end of the table who stops my heartbeat.
Imani Voss.
The one who taught me how to scrub the bathroom while flirting with guards and break a nose in one fluid move. What the fuck is she doing here?
I blink. "What the...?"
Lucien gestures to the empty chair beside him. "Sit."
I open my mouth but no words come. I am looking at Imani with tons of questions in my head, and she gives me a lazy smirk and raises her glass like it is a joke.
I slide into my chair, trying to ignore the sudden sweat on my spine. Lucien is looking at me while sipping his wine. Beatrice smiles. "We all have dinner together every three or four months."
Clara leans closer with a grin. "We all are his inner circle."
I blink. "Wait...you are...in his circle? How?"
Clara laughs. "I run analytics for his crypto laundering operations."
I squint and shake my head, but Clara continues by holding her hand above. "I did my master's in math from Stanford."
Beatrice raises her hand shyly. "And I am studying Psych at UCLA."
I just stare at my plate. Why do I never see Beatrice go to school? How did I miss all this?
My eyes flick to Imani again and Lucien finally speaks. Maybe he sees curiosity in my eyes. "Imani runs part of my intel unit. she handles people like you."
People like me? His words echo in my mind.
Questions swirl in my mind, all crashing into each other. But I smile tightly and lift my glass.
"Hell of a dinner," I mutter.
All of a sudden, the table dissolves into another language. The conversation takes a sharp turn when Matteo's phone buzzes, and after reading a message, he shows it to Lucien and he reads it aloud. "Laz's crew is trying to intercept the Valencia drop again."
Elena rolls her eyes. "He's been sniffing around our routes. He is trying to test boundaries."
Rafe chuckles low. "Let him test. We have broken bigger snakes than him."
I sit still, with perfect posture and a polite smile but inside something is tightening.
Because I don't know any of this and why on earth they are talking about their business in front of me.
Why? Think it through, Anaya.
Fuck. Am I part of his circle now?
One of the power moves, blood feuds, and money trails I don't understand. They are talking like generals at war.
I stare down at my plate. The food is amazing, but I am not hungry. Not for food. Not for these alien conversations.
I want answers.
I look at Lucien, calm as ever. He doesn't talk much; he just watches, nods, and occasionally chimes in with a quiet, sharp comment.
I just push food around and try not to let my face show what is boiling under the surface. By the time dessert comes, I am done pretending. I fold my napkin and lay it on my lap, waiting for the first person to leave so I can bolt.
Finally, people start getting up after a few heated comments about territory and some ridiculous inside jokes about Beatrice's failed attempt to cook.
Clara hugs me on her way out. "You did well. First dinners are always a little weird."
Beatrice squeezes her arm gently. "We all have our version of 'what the hell is happening.' Just breathe."
I force a smile and am halfway out of my chair when Lucien's voice stops me cold.
"Anaya, Stay."
My heart taps against my ribs like it wants to escape. Lucien is not looking at me. Just sipping his wine. The room is empty around us, and now it is just me and the ruthless king.
I don't wait for permission. "What is this? I ask, "Tonight. This table. The circle."
Lucien doesn't look away. "You were there."
"But I wasn't in it. Even Beatrice and Clara are the youngest and they speak your language. They understand the jokes. Why on earth was I part of this dinner when you know I don't know anything about your world?"
Lucien's voice is calm and icy. "Beatrice and Clara know what I allow them to know."
I faintly smile. "So you are saying you keep them in the dark, too? Just less dark than me?"
He doesn't answer, so I ask him. "If you have nothing to talk to me about, then I guess I should leave."
I push my chair back, and Lucien keeps his hand over mine. And fuck, I feel the spark. His hand is cold like marble kissed by winter, but the heat surging through my chest has nothing to do with his body temperature. His icy cold touch ignited something forbidden in me. My skin prickles, and he knows it because his eyes fall on my quivering lips, and I see a hint of a smirk on his rigid face.
Lucien leans back and keeps his eyes on me. "Ask me anything."
I squint because I don't know if he is gonna answer or not. So to check if he is a man of his word or not, I ask a random question. "Is Viviana part of your inner circle?"
Lucien shrugs. "She doesn't want to be."
"Why? She seems loyal. Like, weirdly loyal." I ask out of curiosity.
Lucien pauses and then says it in one breath. "Because I killed her husband."
I gasp, and my hands tighten around the edge of my chair. "You what?"
He doesn't blink. "He was my boss. Years ago."
I try to swallow, but my throat feels tight. "And she stayed? With you. Here."
"She is alive because I killed her husband."
I shake my head. "This doesn't make any sense."
Lucien picks up his glass. "He was going to sell her. Human trafficking. To settle a debt. So I killed him and protected the lady."
My eyes narrow, and my voice is low. "Irony is..." I wait for him to look up. "You saved the lady years ago, but just days ago, I saw you in that same inhuman world."
He doesn't flinch. Doesn't justify it. No anger. No guilt on his face.
Just steel. He gulps down his wine in one go, sets the glass on the table, and then pushes his chair back.
I shake my head. "But I have more questions."
Lucien stands up. "Give yourself some time, and you'll learn a lot of things without even asking."
I stand up. "But how do you know about me?"
Lucien smooths his jacket and looks at me. "Good night, Anaya," and walks away.
I feel the burn rise in my chest, but it stops at my throat. He isn't going to give me Clarity anytime soon.
But he has revealed one thing without saying it outright: that Lucien Moretti isn't a monster who has lost control. He is the one who chooses exactly who is gonna be burned and who is gonna be spared.
And I have no idea which list I am on.