Page 12 of Ruby Malice

“Since now,” I say flatly. “Goodnight, Viktoria.”

I walk away before I have to listen to anymore of her inane complaining. Let German deal with her hissy fit—I have better things to do.

Stefano spots me when he’s halfway back to his table. There’s a flicker of surprise on his face that I’m approaching him—usually, it’s the other way around, him coming to fawn for my favor—but he hides it behind an easy smile.

“I’m glad we can be friends now, Kirill,” he says, extending his hand. “These events are uncomfortable enough without having enemies in the crowd.”

I don’t shake his hand. “We’re allies, Stefano. Not friends.”

Stefano and I have only been allies for a few months, and we’ve sure as hell never been friends. I’m stationed out of New York City most of the year, so Stefano believes that I should leave the West Coast to him. But I don’t share the things I own.

His eyes sharpen. “Allies are friends of a sort, no?”

“Only so long as they’re useful to one another. It’s a delicate balance. The moment they overstep, things fall apart.”

We both know exactly what I mean.

Stefano smiles wider. “Thankfully, we both know where those boundaries are. And there’s so much opportunity out there for new acquisitions. I wouldn’t dream of touching what is yours.”

He juts his chin towards my table. Towards Viktoria, I’m sure. But I don’t even look behind me.

I take a drink from a passing tray. “I actually came to talk to you because Viktoria was fawning over you tonight. Apparently, you’re a real gift giver. I think you have a chance if you hurry over and lap up my sloppy seconds like a good little dog.”

Stefano grimaces. He knows better than to touch my property. He also knows that Viktoria is a five-foot walking migraine.

“Not my taste, I’m afraid.”

“But you have a taste for my waitress, don’t you?”

He studies me for a moment before he chuckles softly. “You have a way of cutting right to the heart of things, Kirill Zaitsev.”

“We’re busy men. I don’t see the point in wasting time.”

He lifts his mostly empty glass. “Hear, hear. To cutting out the bullshit.”

I don’t join his toast. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“About the waitress?” Stefano blinks in confusion. “I didn’t think I’d need to. What’s she to you?”

The honest answer springs to my lips: she’s a diamond in the rough.

“She’s an amusing distraction,” I say instead.

Stefano shrugs and looks off to the middle distance. “You’d be surprised. You’ll be disappointed, too, I’m afraid, because she’s on her way to my car right now. My men are escorting her.”

He’s lying; I’m sure of it. The Rayne I witnessed fifteen minutes ago wouldn’t touch Stefano with a thirty-foot pole. More likely, his men are clubbing her over the head and dragging her into an alleyway.

“Ah, that’s what’s missing,” I muse. “I knew there was something different about you. It’s that you’re not surrounded by your usual ring of shaved apes. Feeling confident, I see.”

“I guess I’m feeling lucky tonight.” He leans in, voice low. “No hard feelings about the waitress, right? You’re more than welcome to her when I’m done. If there’s anything left.”

Before I can answer, Stefano waves to someone across the room and quickly slips away. Smart move, because a few more seconds and I’m not sure there would have been much left of him but a blood-red stain to match the wine Rayne spilled on Viktoria.

The intensity of my reaction takes me by surprise. I shouldn’t give a shit about the waitress. She threw a few quick-witted jabs around and made Viktoria gawk like an idiot. That shouldn’t be enough to catch my interest.

But catch my interest, she has.

And right now, my interest might be the only thing standing between her and a violent end to her night.

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