The restaurant is warm and dim, the kind of place that hums with quiet luxury—low lighting, polished wood, the soft clink of glasses. You’re seated beside Ronan in the booth, your thigh pressed to his, his arm stretched comfortably along the back behind you. Kolya sits to Ronan’s other side, relaxed but alert, eyes constantly tracking the room. Across from you is Avery—smiling, chatty—and beside her, her plus one.

From the start, something’s off.

She barely acknowledges you. Her gaze slides past you like you’re furniture, locking instead on Ronan—and when that gets her nowhere, shifting to Kolya. Laughing a little too loudly. Leaning forward just enough to test boundaries she clearly doesn’t understand.

“Oh, you two work together?” she asks brightly, eyes lingering on Ronan before flicking to Kolya. “That must be… intense.”

“Sometimes,” Kolya answers, polite and brief.

Ronan doesn’t even look at her. He pours you water instead, murmuring, “Lemon?” like nothing else exists.

She laughs anyway. “You’re very quiet,” she says to Ronan, like it’s an invitation.

“Only with people I don’t know,” he replies flatly.

Kolya hides a smirk behind his glass.

You and Avery quickly slip into easy conversation—work, inside jokes, old memories—your familiar rhythm a quiet island while the rest of the table grows increasingly tense. Meanwhile, Avery’s friend keeps trying.

A compliment about Ronan’s watch. Ignored. A question about Kolya’s accent. One-word answer. A hand brushing Kolya’s arm.

Kolya gently but firmly shifts his chair back. “Don’t.”

She freezes, smile tightening.

Kolya leans slightly toward Ronan, murmuring in Russian, “Она настойчивая.” Persistent.

Ronan exhales through his nose. “Слишком.” Too much.

By dessert, Ronan’s patience is thread-thin. You feel it in the way his jaw tightens, in the subtle tap of his thumb against the table before stilling. Without a word, he raises his hand.

“Check, please.”

The waiter returns with two checks.

One is placed in front of Ronan.

The other is slid toward Avery’s plus one.

Ronan places his card down immediately. “This covers us,” he says evenly. He nods toward you, then Avery. “And her.”

You blink. Avery blinks harder.

“What—Ronan?” Avery starts.

“It’s fine,” he says calmly.

Her friend stares at the second check. “You’re serious?”

“Yes.”

“So you’ll pay for everyone except me?” she snaps.

“Yes.”

“That’s incredibly disrespectful.”

Kolya leans back, folding his arms. “You disrespected the table first.”

Her head whips toward him. “Excuse me?”

“You ignored her,” Kolya continues calmly, nodding toward you. “And you kept flirting with people who clearly weren’t interested.”

“I was being friendly,” she shoots back.

Ronan switches to Russian, voice low and sharp. “Хватит.” Enough.

Kolya murmurs, almost amused, “Она не понимает намёков.” She doesn’t understand hints.

Ronan’s hand closes over yours on the table, firm and grounding. “Friendly doesn’t look like disrespecting my wife,” he says coolly. “And it doesn’t involve touching men who’ve said no.”

The scrape of her chair echoes as she stands. “Unbelievable. All of you are—”

“—Done?” Kolya offers smoothly.

Silence crashes down.

The waiter returns, wisely wordless. Ronan slides his card forward. “Take your time.”

Only when the tension breaks do you realize your heart is pounding. You look at Avery—eyes wide, mouth slightly open—and she looks right back at you, just as stunned.

“…Holy shit,” she whispers.

You nod slowly, still processing. “I did not see that coming.”

Ronan leans closer to you, voice low, steady. “You okay?”

You glance at him, then back at Avery, then shake your head with a breathless laugh. “I am now.”

Avery exhales, stunned and impressed all at once. “I warned her,” she mutters. Then, after a beat, “But damn.”

Kolya smirks. “Next time, we screen guests.”

Ronan murmurs in Russian, dry and final, “Или едим дома.” Or we eat at home.

You squeeze his hand, still a little in shock—both yours and Avery’s—because neither of them raised their voices, or made a scene.