Chapter 6 - The Dinner Party Trap
By mid-week, the cold war surrounding Grayhaven Manor had escalated into a psychological siege.
Viktor’s men were hovering near the edges of the property, leaving small, subtle signs of their presence—a cut fence line here, a tire track in the snow there. They were poking at our defenses, waiting for Roman to make a defensive error.
Instead of retreating, Roman decided to strike back—not with guns, but with political power.
"We are throwing a dinner party," Roman announced on Thursday morning during breakfast in the conservatory.
I set my coffee cup down, staring at him across the table. "A dinner party? Roman, there are armed enforcers sitting in the woods two miles away."
"Which is precisely why we need the Mayor, the Chief of Police, and the District Attorney sitting in our dining room tomorrow night," Roman replied calmly, slicing into his steak. "Viktor operates in the shadows. He relies on local law enforcement turning a blind eye to his movements in Western New York because he bribes them. If I publicly host the entire political elite of Buffalo at Grayhaven, Viktor cannot touch this property without initiating a federal disaster."
I leaned back, analyzing his strategy. It was ruthless, brilliant, and insanely dangerous.
"And you need me to host," I said.
"I need Mrs. Evelyn Calder," Roman corrected, his eyes locking onto mine with deep intensity. "The woman who single-handedly restored this estate, who commands the respect of the local business community, and who looks like she belongs at the head of the grandest table in New York."
A small, genuine smile touched my lips. "Are you complimenting me, Roman?"
"I am stating a fact," he said softly, his dark gaze lingering on my face. "You are my greatest asset, Evelyn. Whether you like it or not."
Over the next thirty-six hours, Grayhaven was transformed into a hive of frantic activity. Martha and the kitchen staff prepared a five-course French menu. I arranged white winter roses in silver vases, ordered fine linens from the city, and personally ensured every candlestick was polished to a mirror shine.
At seven o'clock on Friday evening, a fleet of luxury town cars began rolling through the front gates.
The grand entrance hall was filled with the sounds of classical violin music played by a hired quartet, low laughter, and the clinking of crystal champagne flutes. The Mayor of Buffalo, a rotund man with a booming laugh, was sipping scotch near the fireplace, while District Attorney Henderson chatted with Roman near the grand staircase.
I wore a floor-length gown of deep emerald velvet, fitted at the waist, with a high lace collar that framed my neck. My dark hair was swept up into an elegant chignon, secured with silver pins.
As I moved through the room, greeting guests with warm smiles and effortless charm, I could feel Roman's eyes tracking me constantly. He looked magnificent in a dark navy tuxedo, radiating authority and lethal elegance.
"Mrs. Calder," District Attorney Henderson said, approaching me with a pleasant smile. "I must say, what you've done with this estate is nothing short of miraculous. When Roman brought you here three years ago, rumors were floating around that you were... unwell."
"Rumors are often exaggerations, Mr. Henderson," I replied gracefully, taking a glass of sparkling water from a passing tray. "A little fresh air and honest work can cure almost anything."
"Indeed," Henderson chuckled. "Roman is a lucky man. Though I must ask... how are you holding up with the recent... tension along the border business?"
I narrowed my eyes slightly, picking up on the hidden probe beneath his polite tone. "Grayhaven is completely secure, District Attorney. My husband ensures that our borders are... thoroughly managed."
Before Henderson could respond, a sudden commotion near the front entrance broke through the music.
The heavy front doors swung open, bringing with them a burst of freezing lake wind.
A tall, broad man with thick silver hair, wearing an expensive fur-collared coat, stepped into the foyer. He wasn't on the guest list. Beside him were two massive bodyguards whose jackets bulged suspiciously at the waist.
The room fell instant silent. The music stopped.
It was Viktor.
Roman stepped forward slowly, moving with the terrifying composure of a panther stalking its prey. He placed himself directly between Viktor and the rest of the guests.
"Viktor," Roman said, his voice smooth as glass. "I don't remember sending an invitation to Rochester."
Viktor smiled—a cold, yellow-toothed grin that didn't reach his cruel, pale eyes. "A grand party at Grayhaven, Roman? And you didn't invite your father's oldest business partner? I'm offended."
Viktor’s eyes shifted past Roman, landing directly on me. He took a slow step forward, sweeping his gaze over my velvet dress, his smile turning predatory.
"And this must be the famous Evelyn," Viktor purred, taking my hand before Roman could stop him and pressing his dry, cold lips to my knuckles. "The fragile little flower who survived the winter. You are far more beautiful than the photos suggested, my dear."
The air in the room evaporated.
In a fraction of a second, before anyone could react, Roman closed the distance between them. He grabbed Viktor by the throat with his bare hand, pinning the older man violently against the heavy oak front door.
May you like
The guests gasped. Women pulled back in terror. Viktor’s bodyguards immediately reached inside their jackets, but six of Roman’s security men stepped out from the shadows, pointing suppressed pistols directly at their heads.
"If you touch my wife again," Roman whispered into Viktor's ear, his voice so quiet and deadly it sent a shiver through every person in the hall, "I will rip your arm off and feed it to the lake."
