COVENANTS OF CHAOS

Chapter Eleven: The First Dinner

Lucas positioned himself uncomfortably in the entrance, alternating his weight from one foot to the next.

His most earnest effort to dress appropriately for the event—a borrowed button-up shirt and trousers—did little to help him feel any more comfortable. He looked around, uncertain of what to do or where to sit, until Silas Moretti's voice pierced the silence.

“Ah, Kane,” Silas remarked, walking into the room through a side entrance. He walked with the assurance of a man who possessed not just the home but all its inhabitants. On time. "That’s a solid beginning."

Lucas forced a tight smile. “Yeah, well, I figured being late wouldn’t exactly go over well.”

“You figured correctly,” Silas replied, his tone carrying a faint edge. He gestured to the table. “Sit.”

Lucas hesitated, eyeing the table. “Uh… where?”

Silas raised an eyebrow, as if the question itself was offensive. “Anywhere but the head of the table. That’s my seat.”

“Right,” Lucas muttered, sliding into a chair about halfway down. The seat felt too plush, the table too far from him, like a child sitting at the grown-ups’ table for the first time.

Before he could adjust, the sound of heels clicking against the marble floor drew his attention. Isabella entered the room, her figure poised and elegant, but her expression cold. She wore a sleek black dress, her hair pinned back in a way that made her look every bit the untouchable daughter of Silas Moretti.

“Isabella,” Silas said, nodding toward her. “Join us.”

Isabella didn’t respond, her eyes flicking briefly to Lucas before she sat directly across from him. Her movements were precise, practiced, like she’d been trained to perform this role her entire life.

“Evening,” Lucas said, trying to sound casual.

“Don’t,” she replied flatly, not even looking at him as she adjusted her napkin.

“Don’t what?” Lucas frowned.

“Don’t do the small talk thing,” she said, finally meeting his eyes. “We’re not friends.”

“Good to know,” Lucas said under his breath, leaning back in his chair.

Silas cleared his throat, his sharp gaze flicking between them. “Enough. This isn’t about friendship. This is about appearances. You two need to learn how to coexist.”

Isabella rolled her eyes. “Coexisting doesn’t require conversation.”

Lucas smirked. “Guess I’m off the hook, then.”

Silas' fist struck the table abruptly, causing the silverware to shake. "Sufficient." His tone was subdued yet conveyed the authority of someone unaccustomed to confrontation. “This isn’t a game, and I won’t allow either of you to treat it as such.”

The atmosphere in the room was stifling. Lucas looked at Isabella, who simply lifted an eyebrow, her demeanor unaffected. Lucas, in contrast, felt as if he were a child reprimanded by the principal.

“Fine,” Isabella said finally, her tone clipped. “What do you want us to do? Hold hands and sing Kumbaya?”

“I want you to behave like adults,” Silas said, his voice icy. “You’ll be seen together, talked about, scrutinized. If either of you embarrasses me or this family, there will be consequences.”

“Consequences?” Lucas asked, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “You mean worse than being blackmailed into a marriage I didn’t ask for?”

Silas fixed his gaze on Lucas, icy and resolute. “Watch out, Kane.” You are present because I permitted it. "Don’t confuse my kindness with fragility."

Lucas tightened his jaw, holding back the response that was just about to escape his mouth. He stared at the plate ahead of him, abruptly feeling his appetite vanish.

Isabella, on the other hand, appeared unbothered. She took her wine glass and gently swirled it around. “So what’s the strategy, then?” A cheerful brief announcement? “‘Heir to Fortune Weds Penniless Nobody in Astonishing Twist of Fate’?”

Silas dismissed her sarcasm. “The wedding will be officially announced in one week.” Until that time, you will be together. Familiarize yourselves with one another. “Persuade the world that this is genuine.”

"Persuade the globe?" Lucas said again, his voice growing louder. "You're joking, aren't you?" Nobody is going to purchase this. “We don't really have any affection for one another.”

"You aren't required to like one another," Silas stated. "You simply need to be convincing." Grin. Join hands. "Perform the role."

"Otherwise, what if we don't?" Isabella inquired, her tone challenging.

Silas took time before responding. Instead, he leaned in, his stare intense and resolute. "If you don't... let's just say I could make life extremely challenging for both of you." "Am I being clear?"

Lucas swallowed hard. “Crystal.”

“Perfectly,” Isabella said, her voice dripping with disdain.

Silas leaned back, satisfied. “Good. Now, eat.”

The tension in the room lingered as they began serving themselves. Lucas piled some roasted vegetables onto his plate, more out of habit than hunger. Isabella picked at her food, clearly uninterested. Silas ate in silence, his every movement deliberate.

After a few minutes, Lucas couldn’t take the silence anymore. He glanced at Isabella, who was pushing a piece of asparagus around with her fork. “So,” he said, clearing his throat, “what do people even do at these fake-dating… marriage… arrangement things? Is there, like, a script we’re supposed to follow?”

Isabella looked up, her expression unreadable. “Just don’t talk.”

“Great,” Lucas said. “I’m sure that’ll be super convincing.”

“Better than you opening your mouth and ruining it,” she shot back.

Lucas smirked. “For someone who doesn’t want to talk, you sure have a lot to say.”

Isabella’s eyes narrowed. “What’s your deal, anyway? Why are you even here?”

“Because your dad gave me an offer I couldn’t refuse,” Lucas said, his tone sarcastic.

“Right,” Isabella said, setting her fork down. “So you’re just another one of his little pawns. That explains a lot.”

“Hey, I didn’t ask for this,” Lucas said, his voice rising. “I’m just trying to survive, same as you.”

“Survive?” Isabella repeated, laughing bitterly. “You have no idea what survival looks like.”

“Oh, and you do?” Lucas shot back. “What, surviving in your giant mansion with your fancy dinners and your designer clothes?”

Isabella inclined herself, her eyes sparkling. "Do you believe this is simple?" Belonging to this family? You cannot fathom what it's like to have your whole life regulated, each action directed, every choice taken on your behalf.

"Sure, welcome to the group," Lucas remarked. “At least you have wealth and influence to rely on.” "I have nothing."

“Enough,” Silas stated pointedly, his tone slicing through the dispute. “You will work it out.” You both. "Otherwise, you’ll end up regretting it."

Lucas and Isabella stared at one another intensely for a brief moment before turning their gazes elsewhere. The remainder of the meal continued in tense quietness, the only noises being the clinking of cutlery on dishes.

As the dinner concluded, Lucas rose swiftly, keen to flee the oppressive ambiance. Silas observed him with a slight grin, as though he were already strategizing his upcoming action.

"Tomorrow," Silas remarked as Lucas approached the door. "You will spend the day alongside Isabella." In a public manner. "The globe must understand that this is genuine."

Lucas paused briefly, gazing at Isabella. She appeared unenthusiastic, but she also didn’t challenge it.

“Okay,” Lucas responded, his tone tired. "Any item."

As Lucas entered the cool night air, he felt an unmistakable awareness that he had just embarked on a commitment far greater—and considerably more dangerous—than he could handle.