A meal with the devil

Anastasia sat frozen in her seat, her fingers gripping the fork so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Dante was still watching her.

The restaurant was silent except for the faint hum of New York traffic beyond the glass walls. The city's skyline stretched behind him, glittering with the soft glow of a thousand lights, a breathtaking sight that might have been romantic—had she not been sitting across from the one man she had sworn to never face again.

He shouldn't be here. This shouldn't be happening.

Yet here she was.

Dante leaned back in his chair, exuding effortless dominance. The way he lounged, fingers resting against the armrest of his seat, like a king observing his subject, made her stomach twist.

"You should eat," he said smoothly. His voice was deep, cutting through the quiet space with an authority that left no room for argument.

Anastasia forced herself to breathe. "I'm not hungry."

This wasn't how the blind date was supposed to be!.

He chuckled. "That's a shame. Because I've booked the entire restaurant."

Her head snapped up. "What?"

Okay Dante wasn't the same college guy she left behind.

Dante gestured around them lazily. "Every table. Every seat. Mine." His lips curled at her horrified expression. "You didn't actually think I'd agree to sit in a public dining area and suffer through a blind date, did you?"

Anastasia's heart pounded. Of course, he owned the place. She should have known.

"I don't see why that concerns me," she muttered.

Dante tilted his head slightly. "Because that means the food has already been prepared. A full-course meal, mind you. And I hate wasting things, Anastasia."

She swallowed.

There was no way out of this.

Reluctantly, she picked up her fork and forced herself to cut into the steak on her plate. The first bite felt like chewing through glass, her body tense under his unwavering gaze.

The silence stretched between them.

Then—a soft clink.

Dante had set his own fork down after a single bite.

He sighed, wiping his mouth with a crisp linen napkin before tossing it onto the table. "I've lost my appetite."

Anastasia's hand froze mid-air. The jab in hitting than it should.

Dante hated her now.

That realization hit her like a freight train. He had never intended to finish the meal.

This showed her just how much he resented her .

Her fingers trembled as she slowly lowered her fork.

His smirk deepened. "There we go."

Anastasia clenched her jaw, resisting the urge to fling her plate at him.

Stay calm. Stay composed.

But before she could speak, his next words sent a wave of ice through her veins.

"Tell Caroline Dupont that she, her dear father, and everyone involved in this little switch-up will face the consequences."

The casual way he said it—the sheer indifference in his tone—made her stomach churn.

"You can't be serious," she said, forcing out a laugh that came out a little too shaky.

Dante merely raised a brow. "Do I look like I'm joking?"

Her throat went dry.

" You're taking it a little too far " Anastasia said clenching her hand.

Dante chuckled with his cold gaze settling on her , "One thing I don't take lightly is lies. And she swallowed.

Mr. Dupont was one of the most powerful real estate developers in the city. If Dante was threatening him, it meant he wasn't just angry. He was out for blood.

"And," he continued, swirling the glass of wine in his hand, "I'm sure the Laurent family would love to hear how their young heiress has been playing games behind their backs."

Her blood turned to ice. Her mother would be so pissed if she gets to know she offended someone as powerful as Dante and worse of all for a blind date sabotage.

The sound of her last name—Laurent—coming from his lips sent a jolt of fear down her spine.

She had never told Dante her surname.

She had never mentioned her family.

Yet here he was, spitting out her identity like he had known all along.

Anastasia's fingers curled into fists beneath the table.

"How—" she paused inhaling slightly. "How do you know that?"

Dante chuckled, low and deep. "Darling." He leaned in slightly, his presence suffocating. "There's very little in this world that I don't know."

Her pulse pounded against her skin.

Dante had researched her.

He had known exactly who she was—who she had always been.

Which meant…

He had been waiting for this moment.

He had been waiting to get a grasp on her , to make her pay for what she did to him .

Anastasia shot to her feet, her chair scraping against the polished floor. "If you're doing this because of what happened in the past then you're really a di**k!."

She sauntered towards the door.

Dante didn't move.

Didn't blink.

Didn't even flinch.

He merely studied her, like a cat watching a mouse scramble for freedom.

Then, just as she took a step back—

His voice stopped her cold.

"Keep this in mind."

The air between them grew razor-sharp.

Anastasia's breath hitched, her hands clenched with her eyes glaring.

Dante stood slowly, adjusting the cuffs of his jet-black suit, his every move deliberate, controlled. Dangerous.

Then, he met her gaze.

"The next time we meet again, you'll be signing your name to be my wife."

Every muscle in her body locked.

What?

Before she could even process his words, Dante turned on his heel and walked away.

Just like that.

As if he had just dictated her future.

As if it was already decided.

As if she had no choice.

Anastasia stood there, the weight of his words crashing over her like a tidal wave.

This wasn't over.