Chapter 5 - DANGEROUS KINDNESS
"Mr. Volkov," I said, standing up and brushing off my dress.
"Please, sit," he gestured toward the head of the table.
Places were set for three.
Misha sat between us, chattering happily about his day.
He talked about his school tutors, his pet dog, and how much he loved apple pie.
The atmosphere was surprisingly warm.
Servants in formal attire brought out dishes of roasted meats, fresh vegetables, and rich soups.
It felt almost like a normal family dinner.
Except for the heavy armed guards discreetly positioned near the doors.
And the subtle aura of power that surrounded Mikhail.
Throughout the meal, Mikhail barely spoke about himself.
Instead, he listened.
He asked about my father, about the diner, and about my life in Chicago.
I found myself answering open-heartedly.
I told him how my father had spent his entire life feeding the community.
How he never turned away anyone who was hungry.
How I was trying my best to preserve his memory, even though the business was failing.
Mikhail listened intently, his gray eyes fixed on my face.
"Your father was an honorable man," Mikhail said softly after I finished.
"In my world, honor is rare."
"Most people act only out of fear or greed."
"When Misha ran away from his security detail that night, I thought the worst."
His eyes darkened briefly, a flash of cold fury passing through them.
"I thought my enemies had taken him."
"When my men located his signal at your diner, I came expecting a trap."
He looked directly into my eyes.
"Instead, I found a woman feeding my son pie and scolding him for getting wet."
A faint blush rose to my cheeks.
"He was just a lost child, Mikhail."
"To you, yes," Mikhail acknowledged quietly.
"To the rest of this city, he is the heir to the Volkov organization."
"He is a target."
Misha finished his dessert and yawned loudly, rubbing his eyes.
Mikhail gently patted his son's shoulder.
"It is time for bed, little warrior," Mikhail said softly.
A maid stepped forward to escort Misha up to his room.
Before leaving, Misha hugged me tightly around the waist.
"Will you come back again, Miss Elena?" he asked softly.
I looked at Mikhail, who gave me a subtle nod.
"I'd love to, Misha," I smiled, kissing the top of his head. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Miss Elena!"
Once Misha was gone, the quiet returned to the dining room.
The servants cleared the table and discreetly left, closing the doors behind them.
Only Mikhail and I remained.
He stood up, walking over to a small bar in the corner.
He poured two glasses of amber liquid and walked back, offering one to me.
"Scotch?" he offered.
"Just a little, thank you," I said, taking the crystal glass.
He leaned against the edge of the table, looking down at me.
"Now that Misha is asleep, we must speak business," he said calmly.
My pulse quickened.
"Business?"
"Your diner," Mikhail said plainly.
"I had my associates look into its financial standing."
I stiffened, feeling defensive. "You had your people investigate me?"
"I investigate everyone who enters my son's life," Mikhail replied coolly.
"Your business is drowning in debt, Elena."
"The money I gave you three days ago paid your back taxes, but you still owe two hundred thousand dollars to private lenders."
He took a slow sip of his drink.
May you like
"Lenders who are connected to dangerous people."
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