Chapter 3 - DINNER WITH A PHANTOM|
Elena stepped back, her hands coming together in front of her apron.
"I'm working, Mr. Russo."
"Not tonight." Adrien unbuttoned his jacket, leaning back into the leather cushions. "Tonight, you are my guest."
Before Elena could protest, the pantry door opened and Sophia slipped inside, carrying a silver wine bucket. She set it down and leaned toward Elena, whispering fiercely against her ear.
"Take care of Mr. Russo," Sophia breathed, her eyes wide with undisguised panic. "Whatever he wants. Do not say no."
Sophia retreated rapidly, shutting the heavy oak door behind her.
Elena stood alone in the quiet room with the most dangerous man in the city.
"She frightens easily," Adrien noted, pouring two glasses of the deep red wine himself. He slid one across the polished wood toward the empty setting. "Sit, Elena. I don't enjoy repeating my invitations."
Curiosity, mixed with a strange, dark adrenaline, overruled her survival instincts. Elena pulled out the chair and sat down on the edge of the plush cushion.
Courses began arriving—dishes Elena couldn't pronounce, served by nervous kitchen staff who backed out of the room without raising their heads.
The wine moved over her tongue like liquid velvet.
Across the table, Adrien watched her every move. He didn't talk about business or politics. He asked about her.
"A literature degree from Columbia," Adrien said quietly, cutting into a dry-aged ribeye. "Graduated with honors. Yet you spend your mornings burning espresso and your nights serving corrupt councilmen."
Elena’s glass stopped halfway to her mouth. "You ran a background check on me?"
"I check everything that enters my space," he replied smoothly. "Your parents died three years ago in a highway collision on Route 9. You inherited their debts along with your tuition loans."
"That is my private life," Elena said, her voice trembling with rising anger.
"It is a tragic life," Adrien corrected, his silver eyes flashing in the candlelight. "You don't belong in this restaurant, Elena. Not serving people who don't even look you in the eye."
He reached across the small table, his warm, calloused fingers brushing against the back of her hand. The touch sent a shockwave straight up her arm.
"You were built for better things," he said softly.
Elena pulled her hand back, her heart hammering against her ribs. "It's late, Mr. Russo. I need to leave."
"My driver will take you home."
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"That isn't necessary. I can take the subway—"
"It is raining," Adrien interrupted, his tone instantly hardening into an absolute command. "And your neighborhood is not safe at night. I insist."
