2025-08-06 22:38:44Chapter 3: Dinner with the Devil
Elara Quinn stared at the message again.
Let’s talk. One liar to another.
8 PM. Argento Private Lounge.
Come alone.
No threats. No demands. Just six words wrapped in velvet and poison.
She knew it was a trap. But the problem was… she couldn’t tell for whom.
She arrived early.
Not because she was nervous — she told herself that — but because being late felt like giving him control.
The Argento Lounge was hidden behind an unmarked black door in the heart of the financial district. No menu. No reservations. Entry by invitation only. It was where the city’s most dangerous people drank like gentlemen and made enemies with a smile.
Inside, the lights were low and golden, casting long shadows across leather booths and mirrored walls. The scent of cedarwood and aged whiskey drifted through the air.
A waiter approached her in silence and led her to the farthest booth — one surrounded by sheer curtains that obscured it like a confessional.
Damian Cross was already there.
Of course he was.
Seated casually, collar unbuttoned, his expression unreadable. A glass of scotch sat untouched before him.
“Ms. Quinn,” he greeted.
She slid into the booth across from him. “Mr. Cross.”
His gaze flicked over her outfit. Black dress. High slit. Business meets danger. She dressed for strategy. He appreciated the move.
“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he said.
“Liar,” she replied smoothly. “You knew I would.”
He smiled faintly, the kind that made your skin crawl and your breath catch.
“You’re right.”
The waiter returned, served wine she didn’t order. Damian had already chosen everything.
She took a sip. Perfect temperature. Smooth. Expensive. She hated that it tasted good.
He studied her without speaking for a moment. Not with lust — with analysis. Like she was a puzzle he already knew the solution to, but was curious how long it would take her to figure it out.
“So,” she said at last, “what exactly do you want from me?”
“A conversation,” he said simply.
“Just that?”
“For now.”
He reached into his jacket and set a small black flash drive on the table between them.
“I know you’ve been feeding Victor updates. I even know which phone you’ve been using to send encrypted messages.”
Her fingers didn’t twitch. Her face didn’t flinch. But inside?
Ice.
“If you already know that,” she said, “why invite me here instead of having me arrested?”
“Because you’re still useful,” Damian said.
“To who? You or Victor?”
He leaned in slightly. “That depends on who you fear more.”
A pause.
Then she asked the one question she’d been holding back since the boardroom.
“Why me?”
Damian’s face didn’t change — but something flickered in his eyes. A memory. A scar.
“You were there,” he said softly. “Ten years ago. When they set the trap. When they signed the death warrant. When they buried me.”
She looked away, jaw tight.
“I was just a pawn,” she said. “They used me.”
“You still chose your side.”
“I was a child. You think I had a choice?”
“You had a mouth. You could’ve spoken.”
Silence pressed between them like a loaded gun.
Then she met his eyes again.
“And if I had?” she whispered. “You’d be dead for real.”
He tilted his head slightly. Calculating. Surprised… just a little.
“Maybe.”
A long pause.
Then Damian spoke again, his voice lower now.
“They’re going to come for you next, Elara. When they suspect you’ve turned, they’ll burn you before I can. You’ll need protection.”
“From you?” she scoffed.
“I’m offering a deal. Be my eyes inside their camp. Feed me everything.”
“And in return?”
“You get to live.”
She gave a soft, disbelieving laugh. “Generous.”
“I’m known for that,” he said dryly.
She glanced at the flash drive again. “And what’s this?”
“A gift,” he said. “It contains the file Victor has on you. Every surveillance photo. Every note. Every betrayal he’s hiding from you.”
She stared.
“You’re lying.”
“Maybe.”
She snatched the drive and slid it into her clutch.
“I don’t trust you,” she said.
“You shouldn’t,” he replied. “I don’t trust me either.”
The waiter returned with the food. Perfectly cooked steak. Seared scallops. Truffle potatoes. It was a distraction. Neither of them touched their plates.
When the curtain briefly parted, Elara caught her reflection in the mirror across the lounge.
And for one second… she didn’t recognize the woman staring back.
Later that night…
Elara exited through the side door into the cold night air.
Her car was waiting. She opened the door, slid inside—
—and froze.
There was an envelope on the passenger seat.
Unmarked. Black.
She opened it slowly.
Inside: three photographs.
Photo 1 — A blurry image of her sitting across from Damian at dinner.
Photo 2 — Her entering a building earlier that week: Cross Global HQ.
Photo 3 — A red “X” over her face.
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown Number
You’re slipping, Elara.
Choose your side, or I’ll choose for you.
Meanwhile — Damian’s Penthouse
Cole stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, watching the lights below.
“She’ll betray you,” he said.
“Of course,” Damian replied.
“But you’ll let her anyway.”
Damian poured himself a drink. “It’s not about her. It’s about what she brings.”
“Leverage?”
“No.” Damian turned toward him. “Pain. Guilt. Weakness.”
“Yours or hers?”
Damian’s voice went cold.
“Both.”
The next morning, Victor Voss walks into his study.
There’s a red envelope on his desk.
Inside is a single playing card.
The Joker.
Written in pen across the top:
I never died. I evolved.
You took my future. Now I’ll take yours.
Previous Chapter
Latest Chapter
Chapter 44
Chapter 44 – The Contract TrapThe leather-bound contract lay between them like a loaded gun. Its pages whispered of ruin, its seal gleamed like a brand. Damian didn’t touch it. He didn’t have to—the heavy signature at the bottom was his. Or at least, it looked like his.His chest tightened, not from shock, but from fury.“That’s not mine,” he said, voice low and measured, though the air around them vibrated with restrained violence. “The ink may be my name, but the hand isn’t.”Lucian leaned back in the velvet chair, eyes catching the crystal light overhead. He looked too comfortable in Damian’s world, as though the skyscraper’s steel bones had always belonged to him. His smile was the kind that carved scars.“Forgery is such a pedestrian word,” Lucian said, tapping one finger on the document. “This contract is flawless. Down to the pressure indentations of the pen. The legal system will eat it alive.”Damian’s jaw clenched. “You underestimate what I can prove.”“No, Damian,” Lucian
Chapter 43
Chapter 43 – Face to FaceThe limousine pulled away from the curb, its tinted windows reflecting the flood of camera flashes outside Damian’s old headquarters. From across the street, concealed in the shadows of a service entrance, Damian watched the procession of black cars glide up to the building’s marble steps. He recognized many of them—vehicles belonging to key shareholders, corporate partners, and political allies. Tonight was not just any event. It was a gathering of the company’s most powerful stakeholders, convened under the guise of an “emergency briefing” about the military tech scandal.In reality, Damian knew it was something far more dangerous.Lucian was inside.He adjusted the tailored tuxedo he’d borrowed from one of his underground contacts. The fabric smelled faintly of cologne and gunpowder, but it fit him well enough. His hair was slicked back, his jaw freshly shaven. He looked every inch the corporate titan he once was, save for the fire in his eyes—the fire of
Chapter 42
Chapter 42 – The Long GameThe night air smelled of gasoline and rain. Damian leaned against the hood of a nondescript sedan in a warehouse district no one with money or sense would step into after midnight. His suit was gone; now he wore a black turtleneck, a leather jacket, and the shadow of a man stripped of legitimacy. The city skyline flickered in the distance, indifferent to his exile.“They think they’ve cut me off,” Damian muttered, scanning the empty lot. “But I’ve survived worse.”Cole’s voice buzzed in his earpiece. “You’re sure about this? You’re asking men who’d slit your throat for half the price Lucian’s offering.”“That’s why they’ll respect me,” Damian replied. His tone carried that cold assurance that had once held boardrooms in rapt silence. “I don’t come begging. I come dealing.”The Underground MarketplaceThe steel doors of the warehouse creaked open. Inside, a dozen figures circled like sharks. Smugglers, arms dealers, data brokers—the kind of people Damian used
Chapter 41
Chapter 41 – ScandalThe kiss lasted only seconds.But in the world Damian lived in, seconds were enough to destroy an empire.By the time he had slipped out of the masquerade, mask discarded, anger simmering beneath his skin, the world already knew. Screens glowed in limousines outside. Phones buzzed in manicured hands. Every guest had seen the cameras, and every guest had whispered, texted, forwarded the image before the champagne had even gone flat.And by dawn, the kiss was everywhere.The FirestormThe first time Damian saw the image, he wanted to shatter the screen.There he was—or rather, the clone, perfectly posed in a silver mask, his mouth pressed against The Huntress’s as her hand curved around his jaw. Behind them, crystal chandeliers flared like coronas of fire. The caption beneath, courtesy of a gossip outlet that had been fed the picture within hours, read:Damian Kane’s Mask Falls: Secret Deal with Unknown Heiress Sealed with a KissThe photo had been doctored, of cour
Chapter 40
Chapter 40 – The Masked BallMasks had always been part of Damian Kane’s life.He’d worn them in boardrooms, on battlefields, in bed with women who thought they knew him. A smile when he felt nothing. Charm when he wanted blood. Control when his empire burned.But tonight’s mask was literal: black lacquer, edged in silver, sculpted into the sharp angles of a predator. It fit too well.The ballroom glowed beneath a canopy of chandeliers, every prism of crystal scattering light across velvet drapes and marble floors. A hundred conversations collided in the air—laughter behind feathered masks, whispers curling like smoke beneath the strings of the orchestra. Champagne glittered in flutes, jewels winked on throats and wrists, and every guest hid behind painted porcelain, as if anonymity were fashion instead of strategy.Damian threaded through it all like a shadow. He wore the mask, but his true disguise was the weight of his presence—controlled, invisible, unnoticed in a room that thrive
Chapter 39
Chapter 39 – Double CrossedThe Huntress always smiled like she was winning a game no one else could see.It made Damian’s skin crawl.He didn’t trust mercenaries, never had, and certainly not one who treated morality as a negotiable line item. Yet here she was, sitting in the corner of his penthouse’s war room, her booted feet propped on the polished steel table as if she owned the place. The skyline stretched behind her in a wash of glass and light, but all Damian could see was the glint in her eyes—sharp, predatory, self-assured.She had agreed too quickly, too easily. Claiming the role of buyer. Offering herself as bait. And while she had dressed it up as a tactical necessity, Damian knew enough about hunters to recognize the scent of personal prey. She wanted something out of this deal—something more than money, more than leverage.And until he knew what it was, she was as dangerous as Lucian himself.Elara paced the room, agitation bleeding through every gesture. “I don’t like t
You may also like
SHADOW AND LIGHT (CHIAROSCURO)
Prince Firelorn6.1K viewsNothing Wrong
Simon 198214.2K viewsNOT ALL ROSES ARE RED
Neche Felix2.9K viewsLAYLA
Dadalifted3.2K viewsThe EXIT Interview
Aaron Chiwaala1.0K viewsShadows of Destiny
Ak Sarp1.4K viewsThe Life of an Eagle Boy
owtherboy214 viewsThe Comeback of Alarick
Kabirat Aleem3.8K views