The dining room was bathed in warm amber light, flickering gently from the crystal chandelier overhead. The long oak table gleamed under the soft glow, perfectly set with silver cutlery and polished glassware. Outside, the sky had dimmed to a dusky purple, the first stars beginning to pierce the horizon.
Aiden sat at the head of the table, his posture rigid despite the elegance of the moment. Across from him, Dallas lounged with unnerving ease, one arm draped casually over the chair back, his gaze flicking intermittently toward Mia. She sat a few seats away, nervously arranging her napkin, pretending to focus on the food.
The first few minutes passed in strained politeness. Dallas asked questions about company matters, feigning interest, while subtly inserting compliments about Mia's work with Aiden. Each comment was calculated—just enough to make her blush or smile awkwardly.
"So, Mia," Dallas began smoothly, leaning slightly toward her as if sharing a secret, "I hear you've been helping Aiden make great progress. That must require… a lot of patience." His dark eyes lingered on her hand as she adjusted her napkin, making her fidget under his gaze.
Mia laughed nervously. "It's nothing, really. Just doing my part."
"Ah, but it's more than nothing, isn't it?" Dallas said, leaning closer. "You've been… indispensable. I'd say someone like you deserves recognition."
Aiden's jaw tightened. He kept his hands folded in front of him, eyes on the table, forcing himself to appear calm. But inside, a storm raged. Dallas had never been subtle before, yet now, every word, every glance, seemed designed to provoke him testing his patience, his control.
Dallas' next move came suddenly. As Mia rose slightly to reach for a glass of water, Dallas moved toward her, a casual smirk playing on his lips. He stepped close, deliberately brushing her shoulder.
"Careful," Mia whispered, stepping back instinctively.
"Oh? Clumsy, are we?" Dallas teased lightly, though his grip on the back of her chair was steady, controlling. And then, with a fluid motion that seemed accidental but was far from it, he tripped her slightly, catching her arm to steady her.
Mia gasped, caught off guard, and found herself pressed against him not roughly, but firmly enough to make her pulse spike. She felt trapped, awkward, and unnerved all at once.
Aiden's eyes flicked up sharply. He said nothing, keeping his expression calm, but his knuckles whitened on the arms of his wheelchair. His mind raced: This is exactly what he wants. He wants me to lose control. Not here. Not in front of them.
Dallas, however, seemed completely at ease, enjoying every second. His grin widened ever so slightly as he leaned toward Mia, lowering his voice. "Don't worry, I've got you."
Mia's discomfort was obvious now. She tried to step back again, but Dallas' hand remained steady, his touch almost possessive. "I...I'm fine," she stammered, her cheeks flushing.
"Good," he said softly, but his gaze flicked toward Aiden ever so briefly—a challenge, a provocation.
Aiden's calm facade remained intact outwardly, but inside, he was boiling. Every second of Dallas' proximity to Mia was a test of his patience, and he felt the weight of his inability to act physically. Yet, every muscle in his body screamed with warning.
The dinner continued, but the tension was palpable. Dallas moved with calculated charm, cutting into Mia's space with ease, laughing at jokes only she could hear, subtly brushing against her arm or leaning closer under the guise of conversation.
Mia's unease grew with each passing minute. She tried to keep the conversation light, nodding politely and offering smiles, but the closeness made her heart race. Why does he feel… dangerous? she wondered.
Meanwhile, Dallas' subtle provocations continued to draw Aiden's attention like a magnet. Every look, every movement, every casual touch was designed to remind Aiden of his limitations—to push boundaries without triggering an outright confrontation.
By the time dessert arrived, Mia was quietly tense, unable to shake the image of Dallas' smirk as he held her arm under the table "accidentally." She felt trapped between politeness, fear, and confusion.
Aiden, though, finally broke the silence, his voice low but firm, cutting through the ambient conversation of staff and family. "Dallas," he said, calm but icy, "enough with the games. Remember your place."
Dallas' grin didn't falter. He tilted his head, mockingly thoughtful. "My place? Oh, Aiden… I think we both know exactly whose place this is."
Aiden's fingers gripped his chair tightly. Mia's eyes widened, sensing the silent storm behind his calm words. The air between them was charged, the tension so thick it felt almost suffocating.
The chapter closed with Dallas leaning back, eyes glinting with dangerous amusement, while Mia sat frozen in her chair, heart racing, and Aiden stared at him, silent but ready. The battle lines were drawn—not just for company matters, but for control, safety, and perhaps, something far more personal.
This chapter keeps the dramatic tension high and clearly establishes:
Dallas as manipulative and provocatively dangerous
Aiden's restrained fury
Mia's discomfort and awareness of the subtle threat
The power struggle escalating toward a confrontation