Chapter 6: Dining with sharks II.
Chapter 6: Dining with sharks II.
The evening wore on, each course more exquisite than the last, but the tension at the table was mounting. Elena Mirov sat poised, but the weight of scrutiny pressed down like a vice.
Eleanor’s gaze sharpened as she leaned forward. “Elena, tell me — how do you handle pressure when things don’t go your way? In business, in life?”
Elena met her eyes steadily. “I remain calm and adapt. It’s important to stay in control.”
A faint, almost imperceptible flicker of hesitation crossed Elena’s face as she added, “Even if that means bending the rules sometimes.”
The words hung in the air like a challenge.
Christopher’s eyes, briefly alert, shifted away again, sensing the storm brewing.
Eleanor’s smile thinned dangerously. “Bending rules can be... necessary, but also dangerous. Where do you draw the line?”
Elena’s voice faltered slightly, betraying her practiced calm. “Where consequences threaten more than rewards.”
A quiet murmur ran through the room. Alina and Sofia exchanged subtle glances.
Eleanor’s eyes narrowed. “And if those consequences included harming those you claim to care about?”
Elena’s composure cracked for a heartbeat — a flash of guilt or regret, impossible to hide.
Eleanor’s voice was ice. “Remember, Elena — here, weakness is a luxury none of us can afford.”
Christopher’s expression remained impassive, but his fingers tightened on the table.
Elena swallowed hard, nodding. The room was silent, the unspoken message clear: one more misstep and she would be cast aside.
The last course was cleared away like a battlefield abandoned, leaving nothing but the heavy weight of unsaid words lingering between them. Eleanor’s eyes flicked to the grand clock on the wall, its slow tick echoing like a drumbeat in the silence.
Christopher sat back, arms folded, his expression unreadable, the faintest shadow of a scowl tightening his jaw. The girls sat stiffly, their practiced smiles gone, replaced by the exhaustion that comes from walking a razor’s edge.
Eleanor stood, smoothing her silk blouse with deliberate grace. “This evening has been... enlightening.”
Her gaze swept the room — piercing, unyielding. “Remember this night. Remember who holds the power. And know that loyalty isn’t a suggestion. It’s a command.”
She took a slow sip from her crystal glass, the red wine catching the light like liquid fire.
A soft thunder rolled in the distance, distant but ominous.
Outside, the city lights blinked against the dark sky, indifferent to the fragile alliances forged and shattered within these walls.
Elena’s eyes flickered nervously toward Eleanor, then down to her trembling hands.
Christopher finally rose, his chair scraping softly against the polished floor.
“Goodnight,” he said flatly, his voice low but carrying a weight that filled the room.
As the front door clicked shut behind the last departing guest, the house seemed to exhale — but the storm inside was far from over.
Alone now, Eleanor’s lips curled into a cold smile.
Power was a game played in shadows. And tonight, she’d made sure the board was set.
The house had fallen quiet, the way a stage does after the final curtain drops. The last traces of polite laughter and clinking silver had faded into the dripping hush of rain outside. Staff moved discreetly around Eleanor as she sat still, one leg crossed elegantly over the other, a single-gloved hand nursing a glass of Scotch.
She didn’t look up when the girl entered.
“Elena,” she murmured, as if tasting the name and already finding it bland. “Come in.”
Elena stepped forward with all the tentative grace of someone who knew she was already losing. Her heels were too loud against the marble. Her breath, too shallow.
“I… I wanted to thank you again,” Elena began. “For dinner. And for—”
“I’m bored,” Eleanor interrupted.
Elena faltered. “I… I’m sorry?”
Eleanor finally looked up. Her gaze was glacial — not angry, not scolding, but utterly devoid of interest. “That’s the problem, darling. You’re forgettable.”
Elena’s lips parted, stunned into silence.
“I gave you a seat at my table,” Eleanor continued, voice smooth as glass. “I put you in the same room as him. I expected poise, wit, elegance. A little mystery. Something that might—entertain me.” She took a sip, savoring it. “Instead, you droned on about skincare and made the same four compliments in different words.”
“I was trying to be polite,” Elena said, swallowing hard.
Eleanor laughed — a short, dry sound. “No, you were trying to be liked. And in doing so, you made yourself invisible.”
“I thought he liked me,” Elena whispered.
“Men don’t like anything,” Eleanor replied coolly. “They notice what you make them notice. And you didn’t make him feel a thing. Not desire, not curiosity, not even disdain. You might as well have been a scented candle at the table.”
Elena’s face flushed scarlet, shame blooming like blood under her skin.
“I invited you here,” Eleanor said, rising to her feet, “because I thought you might have edge. Bite. The kind of polish that cuts. But all I found was dull surface and desperation.”
“I didn’t know I was auditioning,” Elena said quietly.
Eleanor tilted her head, voice velveted in ice. “With women like me, you always are.”
The silence between them cracked like ice.
Then Eleanor took a final sip, set her glass down, and waved one dismissive hand.
“You may leave now. My driver will drop you somewhere appropriate. Perhaps near your father’s tailor — I hear he does wonders with reputations, too.”
Elena stood frozen for a heartbeat longer. Then, stiff-backed and blinking fast, she turned and left without a word.
The door closed.
Eleanor didn’t sigh. She didn’t flinch.
She simply stared into the firelight, one manicured finger idly turning the ring on her hand.