Chapter 49: Caviar And Curses

The first course arrived—oysters nestled in beds of crushed ice, garnished with pearls of caviar and micro herbs.

Kane stared at the presentation, momentarily forgetting the awkwardness of Bob’s arrival.

"You’re supposed to eat them, not just admire them," Bob said, sliding into the seat directly across from Kane. He demonstrated, tipping an oyster shell to his lips.

Kane followed suit, eyes widening at the briny explosion of flavor.

"Holy—that’s incredible," he murmured.

Bob grinned. "Wait until you try the wine pairing."

As if on cue, servers appeared with delicate glasses of pale gold liquid.

Kane sipped cautiously, then more enthusiastically as the crisp minerality complemented the oysters perfectly.

The truffle foam arrived next, floating atop a mushroom consommé so clear Kane could see the bottom of the bowl.

"This is ridiculous," Kane whispered, savoring a spoonful. "Do people actually eat like this all the time?"

Bob laughed, a warm, genuine sound. "Oh, definitely not. At least I don’t. I’m more of a burger-and-fries guy myself."

"That makes the two of us," replied Kane.

Laughter rippled around the table—except from Cyrus, who sat motionless beside Kane.

Though he went through the motions of dining, his plate remained nearly untouched.

Instead, his eyes tracked every interaction between Kane and Bob, his jaw tightening whenever Bob leaned forward to share another cruise secret or whenever Kane laughed at something he said.

The next courses consisted of wagyu beef with gold leaf, lobster with saffron emulsion, and rare fruits carved into impossible shapes.

"A man of your stature doesn’t vacation without purpose, Mr. Drakhal." Bernard Holloway cuts into his wagyu, his gaze fixed on Cyrus.

"What brings you to our little floating paradise?"

Cyrus set down his barely touched wine glass. "Sometimes even I require a change of scenery, Mr. Holloway."

"Please," Bernard gestured expansively, gold cufflinks catching the light, "call me Bernard. After all, we’re practically neighbors for the next week."

"Very well... Bernard." Cyrus pronounced the name with just enough inflection to make it clear he was granting a favor rather than accepting one.

Bernard’s smile tightened.

"Coincidences fascinate me. Of all the luxury cruises sailing the Mediterranean, you chose the same one as me."

Kane glanced between the two men, feeling the temperature around the table drop despite the tropical air.

"Veyr Corp has been expanding into luxury artifact insurance," Cyrus said, his voice casual.

"The market for high-value collectibles lacks proper protection. I’ve been considering approaching several potential clients."

Bernard’s eyes narrowed. "Is that so?"

"Indeed. Our private vaults surpass even national banking standards, and our exclusive restoration technologies are unmatched, to say the least." Cyrus took a deliberate sip of water.

Bernard twirled his wine glass, the ruby liquid catching the light.

"Fascinating proposition. I do have a modest collection. Just some ancient texts and ceremonial items from various cultures." He waved his hand dismissively, as if these were mere trinkets.

"Nothing that would interest someone of your caliber, I’m sure."

"On the contrary," Cyrus replied, his voice measured.

"Often the most valuable pieces are those with the richest histories, not merely the highest price tags."

The courses kept coming like clockwork, each more decadent than the last.

Bernard leaned back in his chair. He adjusted his champagne-colored suit jacket.

"Speaking of interesting pieces, I recently acquired a ceremonial dagger—supposedly cursed." He chuckled.

"Won it in a high-stakes poker game in Marrakech last month. The previous owner was quite desperate to part with it after his family suffered a string of... unfortunate accidents."

"Cursed items make for entertaining dinner stories," Bernard continued, "but we sophisticated collectors know better, don’t we?"

"Indeed. Though some artifacts do carry certain... energetic imprints. My collection includes several Mesopotamian tablets with similar reputations." Cyrus’s expression remained impassive.

"Mesopotamian?" Bernard’s smile faltered slightly.

"Yes. Including the complete set of Enheduanna’s lost hymns—previously thought destroyed during the fall of Ur." Cyrus took a casual sip of water.

"I also maintain a private archive of pre-dynastic Egyptian ceremonial texts. Fascinating cultural insights."

Bernard’s knuckles whitened around his fork. "How... interesting."

"However, these days, I find myself drawn to more... unconventional acquisitions," Cyrus continued, voice dropping to a velvet murmur.

"Items that transcend mere historical significance and enter the realm of the truly extraordinary."

His eyes met Bernard’s with unmistakable intensity. "The kind that collectors rarely display, but covet most deeply."

"I’d be happy to show you sometime," Cyrus offered with a predatory smile. "Perhaps we could compare notes on your... poker trophy."

Bernard shifted in his seat, his confident fa?ade cracking under Cyrus’s casual display of superior knowledge.

He reached for his wine glass, taking a generous swallow before setting it down with force.

"Perhaps you’d appreciate my Etruscan fertility chalice," Bernard offered, voice pitched slightly higher than before.

"Third century, possibly older. The craftsmanship is... unusual."

His fingers tapped against the tablecloth as he studied Cyrus’s reaction, desperate for any sign of interest.

"Silver, inlaid with peculiar moonstone," he continued.

"Acquired it through a private auction in Tuscany. It was rumored to have granted remarkable... potency."

Cyrus’s expression remained unchanged, but Kane felt him tense beside him.

Across the table, the younger Holloway’s eyes darted briefly to his father, then down to his plate.

"A chalice, you say?" Cyrus leaned forward slightly. "I’d be interested to hear more about its provenance."

Bernard’s face lit with satisfaction at Cyrus’s interest.

"Ah, yes. The chalice has quite the storied past—"

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Captain Herring’s booming voice interrupted as servers glided into the dining room carrying elaborate dessert platters.

"I trust you’ve enjoyed our culinary journey tonight."

Crystalline dishes arrived before each guest—delicate spun-sugar domes covering vanilla bean panna cotta with gold-dusted berries.

The captain raised his glass. "To new friendships forged on the open sea!"

Glasses clinked around the table. Bob lifted his flute, eyes fixed on Kane over the rim.

Kane felt heat rise to his face as he lifted his glass, acutely aware of Cyrus’s gaze burning into his profile.

Bernard dabbed his lips with a napkin before turning to Cyrus.

"Since you’ve expressed such interest in unique artifacts, I simply must extend an invitation. I’m hosting a private gala in two nights—a masquerade in the grand ballroom."

He spread his hands magnanimously. "I’d be delighted if you’d attend. Perhaps we could continue our... discussion about artifacts in a more suitable setting.

"We’ll be there," Cyrus replied smoothly, before Kane could respond.