The charity luncheon was being held at the Metropolitan Museum, in the Temple of Dendur wing. Elena had dressed Aria in a flowing white silk dress that made her look like a Greek goddess. She was indeed beautiful, ethereal, and completely out of place among the predators in expensive suits.
"You look perfect," Viktor said as they stood in the mansion's foyer, waiting for the car. He was devastating in a charcoal gray suit that emphasized his broad shoulders and lean frame. "Like an angel."
"Angels don't marry devils," Aria replied, adjusting the diamond necklace he'd insisted she wear. The stones were cold against her throat, heavy as a collar.
"No," Viktor agreed, his dark eyes gleaming with something that might have been amusement. "They fall with them."
The drive to the museum was tense. Sergei sat in the front passenger seat, constantly checking his phone and speaking in rapid Russian to the security detail following them. Viktor's hand rested on Aria's thigh, possessive and protective, but she could feel the coiled tension in his body.
"You're expecting trouble," she observed quietly.
"I always expect trouble. It's why I'm still alive."
"But today especially."
Viktor's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "The Bratva has been making noise about territorial boundaries. They think my marriage was sudden and would definitely make me... distracted. Weak."
"Would it?"
Viktor's fingers tightened on her leg. "We're about to find out."
The museum's Great Hall had been transformed into an elegant dining space, with round tables draped in cream linens and centerpieces of white orchids. It should have been beautiful, but Aria couldn't shake the feeling that she was walking into a trap beautifully disguised as a social event.
Viktor's entrance commanded attention. Conversations paused as heads turned to assess the notorious crime lord and his mysterious new wife. Aria felt their eyes like physical touches, cataloguing everything from her jewelry to her posture to the way Viktor's hand rested at the small of her back.
"Smile," Viktor murmured against her ear. "You're the luckiest woman in the room, remember?"
Aria arranged her features into what she hoped was an expression of wedded bliss as Viktor led her through the crowd. He moved with the fluid confidence of a man who owned every room he entered, stopping to exchange pleasantries with other guests—legitimate businessmen mixing with barely legitimate ones, politicians who probably owed Viktor favors, society wives who whispered behind their champagne flutes.
"Viktor, darling!" A woman in her fifties approached them, dripping in diamonds and designer clothes. "You must introduce me to your lovely bride."
"Mrs. Whitmore, may I present my wife, Aria." Viktor's arm tightened around her waist. "Aria, Margaret Whitmore sits on the museum's board."
"How wonderful to meet you," Aria said with practiced warmth. "The venue is breathtaking."
"Isn't it? Though I must say, dear, you're far more beautiful than the artwork." Mrs. Whitmore's smile was sharp as glass. "How did you two meet? Viktor has been so mysterious about the romance."
Aria felt Viktor's subtle tension, the way he prepared to field the question himself, but something rebellious in her nature made her speak first.
"It was love at first sight," she said with perfect sincerity. "I was working at an art gallery, and Viktor came in looking for something special. He said he was searching for beauty that would take his breath away." She looked up at Viktor with what she hoped looked like adoration. "I never imagined he meant me."
It wasn't entirely a lie. Viktor had been searching for something that night in the alley, he'd just been searching for someone to kill, not someone to marry.
"How romantic!" Mrs. Whitmore gushed, but her eyes remained calculating. "And you're an artist yourself?"
"I dabble," Aria said modestly, aware that she was walking a tightrope between maintaining her cover and revealing too much about her background.
"She's being modest," Viktor interjected smoothly. "Aria's work is extraordinary. I've been trying to convince her to have a showing, but she's... selective about her audience."
The conversation continued for several more minutes, with Aria playing the role of the devoted wife while mentally cataloguing exit routes and potential threats.
She was beginning to understand Viktor's world well enough to recognize the unspoken acts, the way certain guests avoided eye contact with Viktor, the bodyguards positioned strategically around the room, the way conversations stopped when they approached certain tables.
They were seated at a table near the front, with an excellent view of the podium where the charity's director would presumably give a speech about helping sick children. Their tablemates were a mix of legitimate philanthropists and Viktor's associates, all making polite small talk about art and charity work while avoiding any mention of their actual business.
The first course was being served when Aria noticed the man.
He was standing near the bar, nursing a drink and scanning the room with the practiced eye of someone looking for targets. Something about him nagged at her the way he held himself, the expensive suit that didn't quite hide what was probably a shoulder holster, the way his gaze kept returning to their table.
"Viktor," she said quietly, leaning closer to him under the pretense of romantic intimacy. "The man at the bar. Dark hair, navy suit. He's been watching us."
Viktor's hand found hers on the table, squeezing gently as his eyes made a subtle sweep of the room. When his gaze found the man Aria had indicated, his expression didn't change, but she felt his entire body go taut.
"Alexei Volkov," he murmured. "Dmitri's nephew."
The name meant nothing to Aria, but clearly it meant something significant to Viktor.
"Problem?"
"Potentially." Viktor's thumb stroked across her knuckles in what looked like an affectionate gesture. "He's been making moves against my territory. I didn't expect him to be bold enough to show his face here."
"Should we leave?"
"Running would show weakness. But stay alert."
The charity director took the podium, launching into an emotional speech about the children's hospital and the life-saving work their donations would fund. Aria tried to focus on the words, but her attention kept drifting to Alexei at the bar and the way Viktor's security team had subtly repositioned themselves around the room.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the director continued, "I'd like to thank our major sponsors, including the Kozlov Foundation, whose generous support has made our new pediatric wing possible..."
Polite applause filled the room as Viktor stood to acknowledge the recognition. He looked calm, controlled, every inch the successful businessman supporting a worthy cause. But Aria could see the tension in the set of his shoulders, the way his eyes never stopped moving.
That's when she saw the second man.
He was positioned near the emergency exit, trying to look like just another guest, but something about his posture screamed military training. As Viktor sat back down, Aria noticed a third man near the main entrance.
They were being surrounded.
"Viktor," she whispered urgently.
But he'd already seen them. His hand moved to his jacket, and Aria realized with a chill that he was armed.
"When I say run," he said quietly, his voice barely audible above the director's continuing speech, "you head for the Temple of Dendur. There's a service entrance behind the temple that leads to the loading dock. Sergei will be waiting."
"I'm not leaving you."
"You are." Viktor's voice carried absolute authority. "This isn't negotiable."
The director was wrapping up his speech, thanking the guests for their generosity, when Alexei finally made his move. He started walking toward their table, his hand inside his jacket, a smile on his face that didn't reach his eyes.
"Viktor Kozlov," he called out, his voice carrying across the room. "Just the man I wanted to see."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. Conversations died as people sensed the sudden tension, the predatory focus that had entered the elegant space.
Viktor rose smoothly, his movement fluid and controlled. "Alexei. I didn't expect to see you here. Charity work isn't usually your... passion."
"Oh, but it is." Alexei's smile was all teeth. "I'm very passionate about giving people what they deserve."
The two men faced each other across the crowded room, and Aria realized that everyone else had become secondary players in a drama that had been building for months.
This wasn't random, this was planned, orchestrated, a public challenge that Viktor couldn't ignore without losing face.
"Gentlemen," Mrs. Whitmore said nervously, "perhaps we could….."
"Stay out of this, Margaret," Viktor said without taking his eyes off Alexei. "This is business."
"Yes," Alexei agreed, still smiling that cold smile. "Family business."
That's when Aria saw the gun.
Alexei drew faster than she would have thought possible, but Viktor was already moving, already diving toward her as the first shot rang out. The sound was deafening in the enclosed space, sending museum guests screaming and scrambling for cover.
Viktor's body slammed into hers, driving them both to the floor behind their overturned table. She felt something warm and wet spreading across her white silk dress and realized with horror that Viktor was bleeding.
"Stay down," he growled, pressing her face against the marble floor as more shots echoed through the hall.
Chaos erupted around them. Sergei and Viktor's other men returned fire, their weapons appearing as if from nowhere. Museum security was shouting into radios, trying to coordinate an evacuation while staying out of the crossfire.
"Viktor, you're hit," Aria gasped, trying to assess his wound.
"I'm fine." But she could see the pain in his eyes, the way he was favoring his left side. "Can you move?"
"Yes, but..."
"Then move. Now."
Viktor hauled her to her feet, using the overturned table as cover as they made their way toward the Temple of Dendur. Blood was soaking through his shirt, and Aria could see him struggling to stay upright, but his grip on her hand never wavered.
They made it to the temple alcove just as another volley of gunfire erupted behind them. Viktor pressed her against the wall behind the ancient sandstone structure, his body shielding hers from the chaos in the main hall.
"The service entrance," he panted, pointing toward a door hidden in the shadows. "Sergei's already there with the car."
"Not without you."
"Aria….."
"No." She grabbed his face, forcing him to look at her. "We go together or not at all."