Chapter 2 - DINNER WITH THE DEVIL
Evelyn spent the following morning convincing herself that dinner with Lucien Moretti was a terrible idea.
At nine, she decided to cancel.
At ten, she drafted a polite message.
At eleven, she deleted it.
By noon, Megan had heard enough.
“You kissed the man in front of four hundred people,” she said, sitting on Evelyn's desk. “Dinner is probably the least scandalous part.”
Evelyn glared.
“Helpful.”
“That's why you pay me.”
“I pay you to coordinate vendors.”
“And occasionally prevent you from making catastrophic romantic decisions.”
Evelyn looked down at Lucien's card.
The paper was thick, cream-colored, and completely unremarkable.
She found that irritating.
A man with his reputation should have carried something more theatrical.
Black embossed lettering.
A family crest.
Possibly a warning.
Instead, there was only a phone number.
At six fifteen, Evelyn finally sent a message.
Still on for seven-thirty?
His reply came almost immediately.
Yes. Would you prefer somewhere public?
She stared.
That was unexpectedly considerate.
Very much.
The Marlowe. Private dining room, but the restaurant is open to the public. Your choice.
Evelyn knew The Marlowe.
She had designed a corporate anniversary event there.
It was elegant, expensive, and impossible to enter unnoticed.
Fine.
I'll be there.
Lucien was already seated when she arrived.
He stood as she approached.
No bodyguards beside the table.
No theatrical display of power.
Just a man in a dark suit with a glass of water.
“You came,” he said.
“You sound surprised.”
“I was prepared to be disappointed.”
Evelyn sat.
“That's a terrible opening line.”
“I'm told my social skills need work.”
“By whom?”
“Almost everyone.”
She laughed.
He smiled.
It changed his face.
Not dramatically.
But enough to make her understand why a dangerous man might be more dangerous when he stopped looking dangerous.
They ordered dinner.
For twenty minutes, they discussed harmless things.
Architecture.
Restaurants.
The difficulty of planning outdoor events in unpredictable weather.
Then Evelyn set down her fork.
“Why did you invite me?”
Lucien regarded her.
“Because you were interesting.”
“That's not an answer.”
“It is. You just don't like it.”
She leaned back.
“Try again.”
He studied her for a moment.
Then said, “You were terrified when your former fiancé approached.”
Evelyn stiffened.
“I wasn't terrified.”
“You were afraid of being humiliated.”
She looked away.
Lucien continued.
“And instead of hiding, you made a decision so outrageous that everyone else had to react to you.”
She stared at him.
“That's a generous interpretation.”
“It was a terrible plan.”
She laughed despite herself.
“But an effective one.”
For a moment, the conversation felt easy.
Then Lucien asked:
“What happened between you and Adrian Cross?”
Evelyn's smile disappeared.
“Why?”
“Because I know him.”
“How well?”
“Well enough to know he doesn't walk away from things he considers valuable.”
Something cold moved through her.
“He walked away from me.”
Lucien's expression darkened.
“Did he?”
She frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Lucien hesitated.
Then shook his head.
“Nothing I can prove.”
Evelyn placed her napkin beside her plate.
“Mr. Moretti, I don't enjoy mysteries when I'm the subject.”
“Lucien.”
“What?”
“My name. Use it.”
She stared.
“Fine. Lucien. What aren't you telling me?”
He leaned forward.
“Adrian has been asking questions about your company.”
Her stomach tightened.
“What questions?”
“Your clients. Your contracts. Your finances.”
Evelyn stared.
“Why would he do that?”
“I was hoping you could tell me.”
She thought about the breakup.
The sudden coldness.
The canceled wedding.
Adrian's refusal to explain.
Then she remembered something.
Three weeks before ending their engagement, Adrian had asked to borrow her company laptop.
He said he needed to print a document.
She'd given him the password.
She felt sick.
Lucien noticed.
“What?”
May you like
Evelyn swallowed.
“I think I may have made a mistake.”
