The restaurant Viktor chose was the kind of place that didn't have prices on the menu because if you had to ask, you couldn't afford it. Crystal chandeliers cast warm light over white tablecloths, and every waiter moved with the practiced discretion of someone who'd seen powerful people conduct business over expensive wine.
Aria felt like she'd wandered onto a movie set wearing her paint-stained jeans and ratty sneakers.
"This seems excessive for a last meal," she said, sliding into the booth Viktor indicated. The leather was butter-soft, probably Italian, and definitely worth more than her security deposit.
"I believe in doing things properly," Viktor replied, settling across from her with fluid grace. Without the shadows of the alley, she could see him clearly now and immediately wished she couldn't.
He was beautiful in the way that dangerous things often were. Sharp cheekbones that could cut glass, dark hair perfectly styled despite the evening's activities, and those eyes...
God, those eyes were the color of winter storms, cold and mesmerizing and absolutely lethal.
"You're staring," he observed, not looking up from the wine list.
"Sorry. It's just... you're really going all out for someone you're planning to murder. Most people would have just shot me in the alley and called it a night."
The waiter appeared as if summoned by some invisible signal. Viktor ordered in rapid Russian, his voice carrying the authority of someone accustomed to being obeyed without question.
"You speak Russian," Aria said when the waiter departed.
"Among other things." Viktor leaned back, studying her with those unsettling eyes. "Tell me, Miss Bennett, do you remember a catering event approximately one year ago? Private party, very exclusive clientele?"
Aria's stomach dropped. "I... cater a lot of events."
"This one would have been memorable. You spilled wine on some rather important documents. Made quite the impression on the host."
The memory hit her like a physical blow. The elegant mansion in Brighton Beach, the tense atmosphere she'd mistaken for typical rich-people drama, the way everyone had gone dead silent when she'd knocked over that glass of wine with her elbow while trying to serve appetizers.
"Oh God," she whispered. "That was you." She slightly nudged
"That was me." Viktor's smile was sharp enough to draw blood. "And you, Miss Bennett, humiliated me in front of my entire organization."
"I didn't mean to…"
"You called me 'Mr. Uptight' to my face. In front of twenty of the most dangerous men in the city."
Aria's face burned. It was one of those part-time hustles she had took up for some extra cash.
"You were being rude to the catering staff!"she blurted
"I was conducting business."
"You made Sarah cry! She was just trying to do her job, and you screamed at her for walking too loudly!"
Viktor's eyes narrowed. "Sarah?"
"The girl with the blonde hair. She was new and nervous. You reduced her to tears because her heels clicked on your precious marble floors."
"I don't remember any Sarah."
"Of course you don't. People like you never remember the people you step on." The words were out before she could stop them, and she immediately wanted to take them back. Insulting the crime lord who was planning to kill her probably wasn't the smartest move.
But instead of anger, something like surprise flickered across Viktor's face.
"People like me," he repeated slowly.
"You know what I mean."
"Actually, I don't. Why don't you enlighten me?"
The waiter returned with wine, something that probably cost more than Aria's monthly grocery budget and suddenly she was grateful for the alcohol. She took a large sip, trying to gather her thoughts.
"Rich. Powerful. The kind of person who thinks the world exists to serve them and gets angry when it doesn't perform perfectly." She took another sip of wine. "The kind of person who throws tantrums when the help doesn't move quietly enough."
Viktor was quiet for a long moment, swirling his wine glass. "You have quite the opinion of me."
"I have an opinion of your behavior. There's a difference."
"Is there?"
"I don't know you well enough to have an opinion of you as a person. All I know is that you killed someone tonight, you're planning to kill me, and a year ago you were cruel to a scared college student who was just trying to earn some money."
"And yet you're sitting here arguing with me instead of begging for your life."
Aria paused, considering this. "Would begging work?"
"No."
"Then what's the point? I'd rather spend my last hour having a conversation than groveling."
Viktor set down his wine glass with deliberate precision. "You said I was cruel to... Sarah."
"You were."
"But you weren't cruel to me. Even after I humiliated you in return."
Aria frowned. "What do you mean?"
"After you spilled the wine, after you... made your comments about my behavior, I had you escorted out. Quite rudely, if I recall correctly. My men were not gentle."
She remembered. She remembered being grabbed by the arms, marched through the house while well-dressed people watched and whispered. She remembered the bruises on her wrists the next day.
"You were embarrassed," she said quietly. "I get it. I probably shouldn't have—"
"You looked back," Viktor interrupted.
"What?"
"As my men dragged you out, you looked back. Not at me. At the girl... at Sarah. She was still crying, and you looked back at her like you were sorry to leave her there."
Aria didn't remember that part, but it sounded like something she would have done. "So?"
"So most people in your position would have been focused on their own humiliation. But you were worried about someone else."
"I still don't understand what…."
"Your clumsiness that night, your interference... it saved my life."
The words hung in the air between them, and Aria felt the world tilt slightly.
"I'm sorry, what?"
Viktor's smile was razor-thin. "The meeting you disrupted so memorably was supposed to end with my death. Three of my most trusted men had decided I was becoming too... volatile. Too unpredictable. They planned to kill me during the wine service—poison, appropriately enough."
Aria's wine glass paused halfway to her lips. "But I spilled the wine."
"All over their carefully prepared documents. The chaos you created forced them to postpone their plan, which gave me time to discover their treachery." Viktor leaned forward slightly. "You saved my life, Miss Bennett. And for that, I was mocked for weeks."
"Your men mocked you because I saved your life?"
"They mocked me because I was 'defeated' by a clumsy catering girl with a sharp tongue. Because I lost control of the situation. Because for five minutes, you made me look..." He paused, seeming to struggle with the words.
"Human?" Aria suggested.
"Weak."
The food arrived—something that looked like it belonged in a magazine—but Aria barely noticed. Her mind was reeling.
"So you want to kill me because I accidentally saved your life?"
"I want to kill you because you cost me respect. Because for one year, I've had to listen to whispers about how the great Viktor Kozlov was brought low by a girl who couldn't walk in a straight line."
"That's..." Aria struggled for words. "That's completely insane."
"Is it?" Viktor cut into his steak with surgical precision. "Respect is currency in my world, Miss Bennett. Fear is power. And you... you made me a laughingstock."
"I made you human," she said again, more firmly this time. "And apparently that terrifies you."
Viktor's knife paused. "I am not human. I am a necessary evil. A monster who keeps worse monsters in check. Humanity is a luxury I cannot afford."
"Everyone's human, Viktor. Even you."
"No," he said quietly, "I'm not. I haven't been for a very long time."
They ate in silence for several minutes, the weight of the conversation settling between them. Aria found herself studying his face, looking for cracks in the cold facade. She found them in the tiny details—the way his jaw tightened when he thought she wasn't looking, the careful way he held his fork, as if he was always conscious of appearing civilized.
"Why dinner?" she asked finally. "If you're going to kill me anyway, why go through all this?"
Viktor looked up from his plate, and for just a moment, she saw something vulnerable in his expression. "Because you asked for it. Because in all my years of... removing problems... no one has ever asked me for dinner first."
"And that matters to you?"
"It shouldn't." He set down his fork. "But it does."
"Maybe that's the human part of you talking."
"Maybe that's the part that needs to die."
Aria leaned back in the booth, processing everything. "So what happens now? You finish your steak and then shoot me in the parking lot?"
"Now," Viktor said, signaling for the check, "we discuss your options."