CHAPTER 85: [85] DINNER FOR FOUR PREDATORS

The invitation arrived on cream-colored paper, delivered by one of Valerio’s silent servants just as the sun began its descent toward the harbor. Pierre examined the elegant script, noting how each letter seemed carved rather than written, as if the man couldn’t help but apply his craftsman’s touch to everything he created.

Master Valerio requests the honor of your company for dinner this evening. Seven o’clock. The dining hall on the second floor.

Formal attire will be provided.

No signature. No pleasantries. Just the assumption that they would comply.

"Well," Raven said, reading over Pierre’s shoulder. "At least he’s not pretending this is optional."

Pierre folded the invitation, his ribs protesting the movement. Three days of rest had helped, but Hardy’s stolen strength continued to fade, leaving him feeling hollow and weak. The darkness whispered suggestions about draining Valerio, about taking his power and reshaping Porto Veloce into something better. Pierre pushed the thoughts aside, but they clung to his mind like oil on water.

"What do you think he wants?" Alyssa asked from her chair by the window. She’d been quiet since returning from the market, her usual sharp observations replaced by a contemplative silence that worried Pierre more than her anger ever had.

"To show us our place," Raven replied. "Predators like to play with their food before they eat it."

Pierre touched the sea-blue stone at his throat, drawing comfort from its smooth surface. Mika’s gift reminded him of simpler times, when his biggest problem was Hardy’s tyranny and the solution involved nothing more complex than a rusty pipe and good timing. Now they faced an enemy who controlled not through fear but through kindness, who trapped people with golden chains instead of iron ones.

"We go," Pierre decided. "We smile, we eat his food, and we learn everything we can about how he thinks."

"And if he tries to keep us?" Alyssa’s pale green eyes held the hard edge she’d developed since their encounter with Moreau.

"Then we remind him that some birds bite when caged."

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The formal attire proved to be another demonstration of Valerio’s attention to detail. Pierre’s suit fit perfectly, the deep blue fabric complementing his red hair while the cut accommodated his injured ribs without appearing loose. Alyssa wore midnight black silk that transformed her from a former Navy princess into something far more dangerous—a woman who understood her own power. Raven’s dress was emerald green, conservative enough to suggest respectability while hinting at the deadly grace beneath.

The dining hall occupied the entire second floor of Valerio’s mansion, its vaulted ceiling supported by carved pillars that depicted scenes of maritime commerce. Ships laden with goods sailed between stylized waves, their crews rendered in loving detail. Pierre noticed that every figure looked content, their faces bearing the same serene expressions he’d seen on Porto Veloce’s workers.

Valerio stood at the head of a table that could have seated twenty but was set for four. He wore white linen that made his dark hair and olive skin appear even richer, his movements carrying the unhurried confidence of a man in complete control of his environment. When he smiled at their entrance, Pierre felt like a mouse being welcomed by a particularly sophisticated cat.

"My friends!" Valerio’s voice carried genuine warmth, as if he’d been looking forward to this evening for weeks. "You look magnificent. Please, sit wherever you feel comfortable."

The table gleamed with crystal and silver, each place setting arranged with mathematical precision. Pierre chose a seat that gave him a view of both the door and the windows, while Raven positioned herself across from Valerio. Alyssa took the chair to Pierre’s right, her posture erect despite the day’s revelations.

"I trust you’ve found Porto Veloce to your liking?" Valerio settled into his chair, gesturing for servants to begin bringing courses. "I know it can seem overwhelming at first. We’ve worked very hard to create something special here."

"It’s certainly unique," Pierre said, accepting a glass of wine that probably cost more than most people earned in a month. "I’ve never seen such an organized port."

"Organization is the foundation of all beauty." Valerio’s dark eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. "Chaos is simply potential waiting to be shaped. Take this meal, for instance."

The first course arrived—delicate seafood arranged in patterns that suggested ocean waves, each element perfectly positioned to complement the others. Pierre had to admit it was stunning, a work of art that happened to be edible.

"Every ingredient was chosen not just for flavor, but for how it contributes to the whole," Valerio continued. "The scallops provide sweetness, the microgreens add color and texture, the sauce binds everything together. Remove any element, and the composition fails."

Raven took a careful bite, her expression neutral. "And if one of the ingredients doesn’t want to be part of your composition?"

"Ah, but that’s the beauty of it. Ingredients don’t have wants or desires. They simply are what they are, waiting for the right artist to reveal their true purpose."

Pierre had heard similar philosophy before, from men who viewed other people as resources to be managed rather than individuals with their own dreams and fears. Hardy had thought the same way, seeing the people of Hotaru Town as pieces on a board to be moved according to his will.

"People aren’t ingredients," Alyssa said quietly, her knife cutting through her food with perhaps more force than necessary.

"Aren’t they?" Valerio leaned forward, his interest clearly piqued. "Consider your own transformation, Lady Hardy."

Alyssa’s jaw tightened. "I chose to change."

"Of course you did. And I simply provided the environment for that choice to flourish." Valerio gestured around the opulent dining room. "That’s what I do here. I create spaces where people can become their best selves."

The second course appeared—perfectly prepared fish accompanied by vegetables carved into artistic shapes. Pierre noticed how the servants moved with the same eerie synchronization he’d observed throughout Porto Veloce, their actions choreographed to avoid disrupting the conversation.

"Tell me about your work," Pierre said, genuinely curious despite his growing unease. "You’re clearly passionate about it."