Viktor set the classified files back onto the mahogany table, tightening his grip around Alia's waist without looking back at the door. His voice cut through the room, cool, direct, and completely unyielding.
Viktor: "Anashia, Maria... leave us. Secure the perimeter outside."
Hearing the abrupt command, Anashia felt a sharp, cutting pang of rejection that struck right at his core. Ever since walking into the dining hall, his eyes had tracked the intense visual of Viktor in his tailored black shirt and Alia in her stunning white gown, locked in such fierce proximity. But being dismissed so easily ordered to stand guard outside like a common soldier without Viktor even granting him a direct look deeply wounded his formidable pride as the Dragon Mafia Lord.
Anashia's sharp, aristocratic features darkened instantly. A flicker of raw hurt and quiet resentment flashed in his eyes, a vulnerability he tried desperately to mask behind his cold mafia exterior. He cast a sharp, lingering look at Alia, his hands clenching into tight fists as he fought to suppress the emotional blow to his pride.
Standing beside him, Maria immediately sensed the dangerous shift in the room's temperature. Knowing how volatile a wounded underworld kingpin could be, she calmly stepped in to diffuse the tension, placing a respectful hand near his shoulder.
Maria: "Let us step outside, Lord Anashia. The leaders need to discuss the new strategy alone."
Swallowing his bitter resentment, Anashia didn't argue. With a heavy, quiet breath, he turned on his heel, maintaining his regal, dangerous stride as he walked out with Maria. Before the heavy double doors clicked shut, he cast one final glance over his shoulder at Viktor's back—but Viktor's absolute focus remained solely on Alia.
As the doors closed, a heavy, intimate silence enveloped the room once more. Lit by the flickering candles, Alia let out a soft, amused chuckle, her fingers still casually resting on Viktor's collar. Her highly trained intelligence mind hadn't missed a single beat of the Dragon Lord's silent distress.
Adjusting her glasses slightly against his chest, she looked up into Viktor's dark gray eyes with a knowing smirk.
Alia: "The Dragon Lord seemed exceptionally hurt by that, Viktor. Is the absolute sovereign of Russia always this ruthless with the feelings of his highest-ranking allies?"
Viktor stepped even closer, pulling her flush against his structured frame, his rolled-up black sleeves straining against his forearms. Bringing his lips inches from hers, he replied in a low, absolute baritone.
Viktor: "My entire world is currently restricted to the files on that table and the woman in my arms, Alia. The Dark Lord has no time to calculate the bruised ego of another mafia kingpin." Viktor's hand didn't slide an inch from Alia's waist as he locked his gaze onto hers, a rare, faint smile gracing his lips. His voice dropped into an even deeper, resonant timber.
Viktor: "We have spent enough time balancing the ledgers of the mafia empire and the Kremlin. Will you dance with me tonight, Alia?"
Alia casually adjusted her glasses, the sharp, confident smirk on her lips widening. Letting go of the collar of his black shirt, she rested her hands firmly against his broad shoulders.
Alia: "How could I possibly decline a proposal from the Dark Lord of Russia himself? Yes, Viktor. Let's."
Wasting not a single second, Viktor used the remote control near the edge of the hall to trigger a romantic Russian melody. Instantly, a stunning, rhythmic composition began to echo through the grand dining room. The heavy, yet profoundly ethereal tempo transformed the entire atmosphere in a heartbeat.
Viktor and Alia closed the remaining distance between them. Their posture wasn't that of an ordinary dance; it was a flawless, highly romantic execution of classical Zimsik-style movements. Viktor in his tailored, pitch-black shirt and Alia in her majestic, pristine white gown—as they spun in absolute synchronization beneath the flickering amber glow of the chandeliers, the visual felt like a living fairytale cutout.
Viktor's powerful hand kept a secure, unyielding grip on Alia's waist, while she completely surrendered her weight to his embrace with absolute trust. With every step, her long, radiant golden hair swayed gracefully through the air. Rising entirely above the subterranean wars and underworld rivalries, the two of them became completely lost in a flawless, mesmerizing rhythm for this one solitary night.
But Alia was also an extraordinary gymnast, making her every movement impossibly fluid, flexible, and sharp. On the other hand, Viktor's physical balance and sheer strength were so formidable that he countered and guided her complex steps without breaking a sweat.
As the tempo of the Russian track escalated, Alia showcased a brilliant flash of her gymnastic prowess. Using his hand as leverage, she executed a flawless, rapid spin, launching herself momentarily into the air—and Viktor caught her at the exact, split-second mark with absolute precision. The expansive hem of her white gown carved a perfect, sweeping circle in the air. Behind his glasses, Viktor's heavy, calculating eyes flared with a deep, consuming fascination for her.
They practically commanded the entire floor with their Zimsik-style choreography. One moment, Alia would drop into a breathtaking back-bend, trusting his arms completely to hold her frame, and the next, Viktor would effortlessly lift her with a single hand, spinning her in a royal, commanding arc. The sheer presence of their monochrome contrast under the candlelight could easily eclipse the most elite royal galas in the world.
Mid-stride, Alia let out a soft, teasing laugh, leaning her face close to his ear as she whispered.
Alia: "What's the matter, Dark Lord? Is it getting difficult to keep up with a CIA gymnast, or is the Emperor of Russia accustomed to handling this kind of velocity?"
Viktor tightened his grip around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest once more. That signature, deeply enigmatic smile finally broke across his face. He replied in a low, absolute baritone.
Viktor: "I fell for your velocity and your brilliant mind a long time ago, Alia. Even if the world turns upside down, this Dark Lord is always prepared to match your every step."
Just as the breathtaking momentum of their dance reached its absolute peak, a heavy, echoing crash suddenly vibrated from the corridor right outside the main doors. The moment that heavy crash echoed through the room, the romantic atmosphere shattered. Viktor's frame went completely rigid, his hyper-vigilant instincts as the absolute sovereign instantly taking over. Looking sharply toward the grand double doors, his voice cut through the silence, dark and dangerous.
Viktor: "Who is out there?!"
Alia adjusted her glasses with a practiced, calm flick of her finger. There wasn't a trace of fear in her expression; instead, the cool, calculating demeanor of the CIA's finest operative locked right back into place. Moving her hands away from his chest, she spoke in a quiet, highly confident tone.
Alia: "Sounds like something went down in the corridor. I'm going to head out and see what it is."
But just as she took half a step toward the source of the noise, Viktor grabbed her hand. His grip—with his black sleeve rolled up to reveal his forearm—was firm, unyielding, and wrapped in an intense sense of absolute protection.
He refused to let her go. Looking down at her behind his frames, his voice dropped to a heavy, authoritative baritone.
Viktor: "No, Alia. You are not stepping out there into a potential threat while wearing that gown. As long as the Dark Lord of Russia breathes, the woman by his side does not need to confront an enemy in his own palace. You stay here."
Seeing the fierce possessiveness in his gaze and feeling the absolute strength of his grip, a slow, clever smirk crept back onto Alia's lips. She didn't try to pull away.
Right then, the heavy double doors cracked open slightly, revealing Dragon Lord Anashia and Maria standing in the threshold. While Viktor still held Alia's hand, the heavy double doors burst open completely. Dragon Lord Anashia stormed back into the dining hall, his striking, aristocratic face a turbulent mix of fierce defiance and suppressed emotional pain. Disregarding all protocol, he walked straight past the security perimeter and closed the distance, stopping right in front of Alia.
Before Viktor's grip could even tighten, Anashia unexpectedly reached out and pulled Alia into a fierce, desperate embrace. The heavy fabric of his dark mafia trench coat brushed against the premium white lace of her gown. Leaning his head down with raw, undisguised emotion, he pressed a lingering, affectionate kiss on her forehead.
Seeing this unprecedented display under his own roof, the Dark Lord of Russia felt his blood turn to absolute fire. To have another mafia kingpin embrace and kiss the woman standing by his side, right before his eyes, struck a lethal blow to his possessive nature. Behind his glasses, his dark gray eyes flared with murderous rage. He stepped forward, his voice cutting through the hall like a whip, dangerous and deadly.
Viktor: "What the hell do you think you're doing?! Anashia, do not cross your limits in my house!"
Anashia slowly released Alia from his arms, turning his gaze to meet Viktor's lethal glare. Standing tall with his own wounded pride as the absolute ruler of the Dragon Syndicate, he replied in a cool, heavy baritone.
Anashia: "I am leaving for Korea tonight, Viktor. The Asian pipeline project is completely under your control now. My presence here is no longer required."
Hearing his sudden declaration of departure, Alia's analytical composure fractured for a fraction of a second. Adjusting her glasses, she stepped between the two syndicate giants, looking directly at Anashia with an emotionally raw yet unyielding tone.
Alia: "No! You are not going anywhere, Anashia. You gave me your word that you wouldn't leave until this entire mission was settled. You cannot break your promise to me now!" With a sharp jerk, Alia pulled her hand completely free from Viktor's grasp. Stepping directly into Anashia's personal space, she spoke with raw, unfiltered emotion, her voice echoing with absolute authority.
Alia: "You are the Dragon Lord of Korea, Anashia! Viktor might look at his empire differently, but you are not him. You are not going anywhere! I love you, Anashia! You gave me your word that even without marriage, you would stay by my side forever. How can you break your promise to me now?!"
Hearing this sudden confession of love and the reminder of his sacred vow to stay with her without the chains of marriage, the hardened gaze of the Dragon Lord softened instantly. All of Anashia's underworld pride and deep-seated hurt seemed to melt away at her words. He stared down at her in absolute disbelief, his chest rising and falling with overwhelming emotion.
But across the room, the absolute sovereign of Russia was pushed past the point of sanity. To stand under his own roof, in his own palace, and hear the woman he loved utter the words "I love you" to another man paired with a promise of lifelong devotion without marriage struck the final, chaotic blow to his possessive nature.
Viktor's tailored black shirt strained against his structured frame as his chest heaved with lethal jealousy. Behind his frames, his dark gray eyes burned with an icy, murderous fire. Slamming a heavy hand down onto the classified Kremlin files on the mahogany table, he spoke in a low, terrifyingly quiet baritone that vibrated through the floorboards.