CHAPTER FIVE – A SEAT AT THE TABLE
722 Words
The long dining table felt colder than the marble floors beneath Elena’s feet.
She sat at one end, quiet, fingers gently tracing the rim of her wine glass. Sitting Across from her was Leonardo like the kinghe was in his castle—confident, powerful, and watching her of course with that same steady gaze.
Seated at his right was Marco—his right-hand man and best friend—tall, dark-haired, with a sharp stare that paused on everything and everyone. He greeted Elena with a polite nod when she sat but hadn’t spoken much since.
Sitting at the other side of the table were three other men: Luca, Enzo, and Paolo—trusted allies of the Gold family, each with a different edge. Luca, the youngest, wore a playful grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Enzo looked bored. Paolo barely blinked. But nothing and no one escaped their notice.
Elena had never felt smaller.
The chandelier above cast soft light over the polished plates, silver utensils, and bowls of unfamiliar dishes. It was all too much. Too grand. Too far from home.
But she wasn’t home anymore.
She was Mrs. Gold.
Leaning back in his chair, with one arm resting on the table he glanced at her and said. “You’ve barely touched anything,” he said gently.
Elena’s throat tightened. “I’m not very hungry.”
Luca raised a brow. “Women from the Bellini family always this quiet?”
Leonardo didn’t laugh. His eyes darkened slightly. “She speaks when she wants to. Not when others expect her to.”
Luca raised his hands in mock surrender. “Noted.”
The silence that followed was thick with something she couldn’t name. Not danger, exactly. But something close.
Marco cut into his steak and spoke without looking up. “There’s been talk.”
Leonardo lifted his glass. “There’s always talk.”
“This one’s louder than usual.”
Elena glanced at Marco, then at Leonardo. Her fingers curled around the edge of her napkin.
“About the Russians?” Leonardo asked, calm.
Marco nodded. “Some think the wedding means you’ve gone soft. That the war is over, and they can start poking around.”
Leonardo set down his glass. “Let them try.”
There was no threat in his voice. Just certainty.
And for the first time, Elena felt it—not just heard it—that power people said he had.
Luca chuckled, but it sounded forced. “I doubt they’ll risk it. They know better.”
“Some don’t,” Paolo muttered.
Enzo finally spoke, his voice low. “Especially not the Sokolovs. They don’t like losing. And they hate alliances.”
Leonardo’s gaze shifted back to Elena. “She is not part of this conversation.”
His tone was gentle, but final.
They all went silent.
Elena’s stomach turned. Not from fear of the men—but from something else. The way they looked at him. The way they all quieted the moment he drew a line.
He hadn’t touched her. Hadn’t raised his voice. But in a room full of dangerous men, he was the most dangerous of them all.
And yet…
He was the only one who looked at her like she truly mattered.
Dinner continued with lighter conversation, mostly about trade shipments and upcoming business arrangements. Elena kept her head down but listened. She was trying to understand the world she’d been thrown into—one formal dinner at a time.
As the dishes were cleared and the others stood to leave, Marco lingered behind. He approached Leonardo and said something in a whisper Elena couldn’t catch.
But she saw Leonardo’s jaw clench.
Marco gave her a long look. “She’s not what I expected.”
Leonardo didn’t blink. “She’s not here to meet expectations.”
Then he stood, walking over to Elena. He extended a hand—not forcefully, not as a command.
Just… an offer.
“Come,” he said. “You’ve had enough of them for one night.”
She placed her hand in his.
Warm. Steady.
And as he led her out of the dining hall, she heard Marco say behind them, low and careful:
“She might be the one thing that breaks you, Leo.”
Leonardo didn’t turn around. “Let’s hope not.”
- Writer
