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I snort. “He’s old enough to be her father.”
I’m confident Stefano doesn’t have a shot in hell with a woman like Rayne, but Viktoria seems to think otherwise. She leans forward, far too eager, and says, “I hear he’s a hard man to refuse.”
“What does that wrinkly old goat know about seduction?” German asks, a bit of wine dribbling out of the corner of his mouth.
“More than you,” I prod, smirking.
“Wrong. First of all, I’m not fifty. So I’ve got a leg up there.”
“Age equals experience,” Viktoria suggests. “Experience equals… well, a better experience.”
German frowns, so I fill him in. “She’s talking about fucking, you moron.”
“Hold up—you fucked Stefano?” German snaps his attention to her.
Viktoria lifts her chin. “Of course not. My cousin did. She looks a lot like that whore who spilled on me, actually. Brown hair, blue eyes. But Gabrielle is so much prettier. It made sense that Stefano wanted her. And so he sent her a few things.”
“Like chlamydia?” German chuckles.
"Like gifts, you ass,” Viktoria retorts. “Every girl likes pretty things. Even our ugly duckling of a waitress. Gifts go a long way—and Stefano always has a gift.”
“Stefano also has a limp dick and a senior discount.” I wave her away. “Gifts are just compensation.”
Viktoria is the exact kind of woman who would love Stefano’s gifts. She is entitled, selfish, and not particularly bright. Wearing and owning pretty things lets her compensate for a lot. That, and always being willing to spread her legs.
“That is why I don’t need to give gifts.” I stand up and button my jacket. “I have nothing to compensate for.”
Viktoria nearly rolls her ankle in her heels trying to stand up and follow me. “Why don’t you come prove it? Show me exactly how little you have to compensate for.” She drags her nails down my sleeve. The scratch of her acrylics against the fabric makes my spine itch. “Let’s get out of here.”
I look over to where Rayne and Stefano were standing a minute ago. But Stefano is alone now, watching her go. Rayne is practically running for the kitchen.
Just before the door swings closed behind her, Rayne turns.
And looks for me.
The way our eyes meet, it’s almost like it was planned. Like I called out her name and she answered, knowing I was watching, knowing with absolute certainty where I was in the room.
For a moment, all of the animosity from our conversation before is gone. I see straight through the mask to the woman beneath.
I’ve seen that look enough times to know exactly what it means.
Then she’s gone.
“Kirill,” Viktoria whines. “Come on, let’s—”
“I’ll call you a cab.” I gesture to German, and he grabs his phone to call one for me.
She frowns. “Why can’t I just ride with you?”
“Because I’m going to my house.”
“Okay. And I’m—”
“Going to yours,” I finish. “Alone. I’m not in the mood tonight.”
She jerks like I slapped her. Being the attention whore that she is, she probably would have preferred that. Making a scene could have given her social capital for weeks. But this quiet rejection is embarrassing and useless.
“Since when aren’t you in the mood?” she asks, lip curled.
