His gaze hits me, scanning from my shoes to my eyes, taking his time to devour the dress.
"Red," he murmurs. "It’s the color of warning. And of desire."
"You told me to wear it," I say, keeping my tone firm. "I’m following orders like a good employee."
"Sit," he says, pulling out a chair for me.
As I sit, the silk slides against the leather.
He pushes the chair in, leaning down so his breath tickles my neck. "You’re breathtaking, Helena. It’s a shame no one else will see you."
He walks to his seat at the head of the table, perpendicular to me.
We’re close. Too close.
A server, one of his silent men, appears from the shadows and places plates of rare steak and roasted vegetables in front of us before vanishing again.
Konstantin pours the wine: a rich Cabernet.
"To the merger," he says, raising his glass.
I raise mine, my heart hammering against my ribs. "To the merger."
I take a sip. The wine is expensive, velvety on my tongue, but I can barely swallow past the lump in my throat.
We eat in silence for a few minutes.
"You’re quiet," Konstantin observes. "I expected more fire after your performance in the office."
"I’m accepting reality," I lie, pushing a piece of steak around my plate. "You have the company. You have the deeds. There’s no point in fighting a war I’ve already lost."
He studies me, his eyes narrowing slightly, looking for the trap.
"Submission does not come naturally to you."
"I’m adaptable," I say. "I want to protect my father. I want to protect my staff. If being your partner is the only way to do that, then I’ll do it."
Using every ounce of strength I have, I look his way, forcing a smile.
"Now, I want to get through this dinner, and then I want to sleep."
"Sleep," he echoes. "Yes. It’s been a tiring day."
He gestures to my glass. "Drink. You need to relax."
I glance at his glass. Perfect. There’s just enough left to dissolve the powder.
He needs to look away. To be distracted just long enough for me to work.
"I need some water," I say, reaching for the pitcher.
I deliberately fumble, knocking my fork off the table. It clatters loudly onto the marble floor.
"Oh," I gasp. "I'm sorry. I?—"
I bend to retrieve it.
He sighs, annoyed, and looks toward the kitchen, signaling for a server to bring a fresh one.
