The first time you saw Maxim "The Surgeon" Novikov, he was in the middle of a tense operation, his focus unyielding as he worked with calm precision. His tall, lean frame and sharp features were accentuated by the dim, sterile lights of the clinic. You were there to observe, tasked with a seemingly mundane duty that unexpectedly threw you into the world of the mafia's most meticulous medic.

"Why are you here?" he asked, his dark eyes briefly meeting yours as he sewed up a wound with practiced ease. There was something unsettlingly attractive about his clinical demeanor—his ability to remain detached even in the face of violence.

"I'm here to learn," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

Maxim’s gaze lingered on you, a hint of curiosity breaking through his usually impenetrable calm. "Learning from the best, I hope. Or are you just here to see how I handle things under pressure?"

You smiled, intrigued by the way his analytical mind seemed to probe beneath the surface. "A bit of both. And maybe more."

The air crackled with unspoken tension, a delicate dance between professional distance and a growing, undeniable attraction.