CHAPTER 260: CHAPTER 260: FOOD BRIBE

The restaurant Victor had chosen didn’t have a sign.

The building was tucked behind a walled garden on the quieter edge of the city’s financial district, hidden in plain sight, surrounded by ivy-covered stone, and lit only by soft gold lanterns that flickered like they’d been blessed by someone with taste and a personal grudge against LED.

The table was set beneath an old white magnolia tree, its branches low and fragrant, its petals softening the ground in a perfect circle of indulgent privacy. Linen draped the table like spilled cream, and the crystal glasses already glistened with condensation. There were no other diners in the courtyard, only a string quartet in the corner pretending to be ornamental and two waiters with expressions too calm to be natural.

Victor pulled out a chair and waited.

Elias sat slowly, still eyeing the garden like it might turn into a political trap. "This looks expensive."

"It is expensive," Victor said, sitting across from him. "I have terrible coping mechanisms."

Elias glanced at the silverware. "Is this a full place setting or an audition for knife ballet?"

Victor grinned. "All you need to do is eat and insult me. You’re excellent at both."

The server approached with practiced silence and poured water, bowing low. He didn’t look directly at either of them. Smart.

The menu was handwritten in gold ink. Elias didn’t bother opening it.

"I’m not ordering anything called an ’ether reduction’ or a ’forest foam.’"

Victor nodded toward the server. "He already knows. Spaghetti for you. With actual butter with garlic and cheese. Nothing conceptual."

Elias blinked. "You ordered for me?"

Victor shrugged. "I know what you like. And what you’d hex if it came with microgreens."

Before Elias could reply, he caught movement near the garden’s edge.

Subtle.

A man standing near one of the large sculpted hedges, dressed in a tailored suit too plain to be casual and too sharp to be staff. Ashwin.

And to the far right, half-obscured behind a column of decorative ferns, stood Robert, Victor’s second shadow, equally overdressed and under-impressed. His hands were folded behind his back, and he looked, as usual, like he was waiting for someone to die of arrogance so he could politely escort the corpse out.

Elias’s gaze lingered for one beat too long.

Victor noticed. Of course he did.

"They’re not here for you," he said softly, unfolding his napkin with the composure of a man who knew exactly what empire he ruled, even if tonight, it was a linen-draped square under moonlight. "They’re here for the idiots."

Elias’s mouth twitched. "Ah. So just crowd control, then."

"Exactly," Victor murmured, setting his napkin in his lap. "I’ve discovered that some people don’t understand the concept of privacy. Or that trying to provoke a Numen during dinner is a terminal offense."

Elias raised a brow. "And I suppose Robert now buries the bodies?"

Victor smiled faintly. "He fills out the paperwork. Ashwin does the burying tonight. They take turns."

That earned a quiet laugh.

The first course arrived: warm bread, olive oil with crushed pink salt, and slices of grilled artichoke heart and lemon.

Elias tore into the bread like it had personally wronged him, chewing as he muttered, "I can’t believe I let you carry me out of the building."

Victor poured him water. "You liked it."

"I tolerated it."

"You snuggled," Victor said mildly.

"I was tired."

Victor leaned forward, elbow on the table, watching him over the candlelight with open fondness. "You made a little noise when I picked you up."

"I swear to God..."

"It was adorable."

Elias shot him a look, and then another piece of bread disappeared from the basket.

"I’m going to throw something at you," he muttered, chewing. "After I finish the carbs."

Victor’s grin softened, but he didn’t press.

The food came in gentle waves, spaghetti laced with garlic and cracked pepper for Elias, a wine-glazed duck for Victor, roasted figs and soft cheese and a blood-orange tart that looked like it had come out of a midsummer poem.

The tart was almost too pretty to eat.

Almost.

It arrived on a black ceramic plate, the blood-orange segments arranged in a spiral, glistening like stained glass, with a glaze so glossy it reflected the flame of the candle between them. There was a dollop of clotted cream on the side, and a single edible flower perched on top, as if daring Elias to be impressed.

He wasn’t.

But he was intrigued.

Victor watched as Elias narrowed his eyes at the plate, fork already in hand like a scholar preparing to disprove a theory.

"Don’t analyze it," Victor said mildly. "It’s not going to fight back."

Elias sliced a bite cleanly from the center. "It looks like it might."

Victor leaned back in his chair, expression somewhere between indulgent and smug. "Try it. Then complain."

Elias did. The tart dissolved on his tongue in a burst of citrus and sweetness, sharp, sun-warmed, and unapologetic. The pastry was barely there, just a whisper of butter and crumble under the weight of the orange.

He didn’t say anything.

Victor, of course, noticed.

"Oh no," he whispered. "You like it."

Elias scowled and took another bite.

Victor stole one while he was distracted. "Victory tastes like citrus."

"I will throw the flower at you."

"You’d miss," Victor said, biting into the stolen piece. "And Robert would intercept."

From the hedge line, Robert’s expression didn’t flicker. But Elias could swear he saw a twitch at the corner of the man’s mouth, somewhere between stoicism and exhaustion.

Ashwin, meanwhile, hadn’t moved an inch. He stood like a shadow that had learned manners, eyes half-lidded but constantly scanning the perimeter, the door, the kitchen entrance, and the rooftop. Always calculating and kind of smug, like his boss.

Elias didn’t need to ask what kind of people Victor had made enemies of. The presence of both shadows at a dinner table meant tonight wasn’t just romance.

He met Victor’s gaze across the table. "So which one of your enemies thinks they’re bold enough to interrupt this date?"

Victor reached for his wine glass, swirling it once. "Hopefully none."

"And if they are?"

Victor sipped, then set the glass down with precise elegance. "Then Ashwin gets bored. And I get to remind the world why you don’t come between me and dessert."

Elias licked the edge of his spoon clean. "I should be offended that I’m sharing priority with sugar."

Victor’s eyes darkened slightly. "You’re not sharing. You are the dessert."

Elias choked on his bite, cough-laughing into his napkin. "Victor Numen."

Victor looked completely unrepentant. "What? You walked into that one. Literally."

Elias muttered something that sounded like a curse but didn’t stop eating. The tart was worth the emotional compromise.

The air around them had become warmer and less sharp. The magnolia above them rustled as a breeze rolled through, carrying the scent of petals and summer spice. Candlelight caught in Victor’s hair turned it to burnished copper at the edges. He looked too calm for someone under constant surveillance.

Elias studied him over the rim of his water glass.

"You’re relaxed," he said finally. "Even with two bodyguards in a thirty-meter radius."

Victor didn’t deny it. "I’m with you."

That earned him a pause. Elias tilted his head. "That’s your answer to everything."

Victor smiled. "And it’s always true."