"She's doing it again," Nadia said, leaning close to Alina's face. Alina turned and the two of them watched their head chef glaring daggers out of the front window of their restaurant.

"I don't know why she doesn't just go out there and beat the living daylights out of him and we can all move on," Alina muttered as she resumed her onion chopping.

"And give him the satisfaction of seeing me arrested on assault charges? Never," Zoya seethed from across the establishment. Nadia rolled her eyes and picked up her bucket and rag.

"If you ask me, a thrashing is not what I had in mind," Nadia muttered, her eyebrows raised meaningfully at Alina.

"Don't," Alina whispered as she bit her lip to stop herself from laughing.

"Ugh he's out sweeping his front step again, the smug bastard," Zoya muttered, face still pressed to the window. She narrowed her eyes at the bane of her existence and imagined him slipping and falling down the three steps leading to the front door.

Nikolai Lantsov's bright blonde hair gleamed in the streetlights as he whistled what Zoya knew to be one of his irritating jaunty tunes. On his way inside, broom slung over his shoulder, he stopped at the door and swung around, making direct eye contact with Zoya. She scowled at him. He winked.

"Yeah run away you little bi-"

"Boss, you wanna help us prep for tomorrow," Alina interrupted.

"In a second-oh shit, he's on his way over here," Zoya said, and darted into the kitchen. She snatched the chicken stock out of Alina's hands and shoved her aside with her hips.

"Ladies, my ladies, I bring you treats," Nikolai announced, flinging the front open dramatically. It banged against the wall before swinging to a close behind Nikolai's back again. Nadia let out a shrill squeal of excitement and darted past Zoya to see what rested in Nikolai's box of treats.

"Traitor," Zoya muttered.

"Behave yourself," Alina hissed in her ear before following her friend. Zoya was loath to admit that she understood the pull of that box of sweets. Nikolai made some of the best pastries that Zoya had ever tasted, but she'd sooner bite off her own tongue than admit it to the irritating bastard.

She set aside the now empty container and took up her favourite spoon (because of course Zoya had a favourite spoon) and began stirring. Perhaps more aggressively than was necessary.

"Don't you want one, sweetheart?" a quiet voice asked behind her. One muscular arm smoothly swung around her shoulders, a beautiful tart topped with fluffy whipped cream sitting on a plate. The icing sugar twinkled under the bright kitchen lights and beckoned to Zoya, making her mouth water. Her shoulders tensed, but she gave no sign that Nikolai's closeness had any effect on her and kept stirring. The pot in front of her rattled from her violent stirring.

"I don't take food from thieves and traitors," Zoya finally snapped over her shoulder. She aggressively wiped her hands clean on the towel hanging from the apron tied at her waist and whipped around to face him. They stood almost nose to nose.

There was a gleam in his eyes as he looked at her. He looked eager and amused, the corners of his mouth ready to pull up into a smile. Her hands itched to slap the self-assured look off of him. Zoya glared up at him, tried not to notice how tall he was or how broad his shoulders were. When Nikolai stood this close, she forgot they weren't the only two in the room. It was those stupid broad shoulders of his blocking out everyone else.

The nerve of the man.

"This again," he replied, his shoulders heaving with a dramatic sigh as he placed his offering down on the closest counter to her. He still wouldn't move away from her.

"And I'm not your sweetheart," Zoya spat out and stepped around him before she had any more embarrassing thoughts, like the fact that he smelled ridiculously good for someone who'd been stuck in a kitchen all day.

"I didn't betray anyone or steal anything," Nikolai said.

"You stole all of my kitchen staff," Zoya immediately countered. Nadia and Alina had quietly taken up spots on stools they had procured from seemingly nowhere. They sat, eyes darting between Nikolai and Zoya as if watching a tennis match, a half finished cheesecake sitting between the two of them.

"They left willingly."

"And then," Zoya went on as if he hadn't said anything, her voice rising. "You had the nerve to open up your own restaurant across the street from us."

"The previous owner was selling, and I was looking to buy. That's how transactions work, darling," Nikolai drawled. He leaned against the counter behind him and crossed his arms. Zoya narrowed her eyes. It was as if he knew exactly how distracting his forearms were in his chef's coat when the sleeves were rolled up to his elbow. There were muscles flexing, veins visible. For Saint's sake it was indecent.

"We can barely manage the orders we've got coming back here as it is because of you, and now we're losing customers to your tacky Sturmhond," Zoya went on. Her hair seemed to grow, crowding around her head like a massive halo as she worked herself up into a fury.

"I simply presented them with the opportunity to work for me instead of the tyrant you call an owner-"

"He's not a tyrant," Zoya snapped as she came to a halt next to one of the kitchen knife blocks. Alina quietly got up and moved the sharp objects out of reach. Zoya had only thrown a knife in the kitchen once, and she still maintained that it had been a slip of the hand instead of intentional.

(No one believed her.)

"For the love of Saints, we nicknamed him the Darkling," Nikolai said exasperatedly and rolled his eyes.

"He's a professional, and a well-known one at that, the connections he has could help make my career," Zoya insisted.

"He's not the only one who knows people," Nikolai snapped back, clenching his jaw. A moment later his expression softened, and he closed the space between the two of them. "You know you're always welcome in my kitchen. If you ever want to leave this place. All of you."

Zoya let him come closer still, leaned in close until he could feel her breath on his face. Ignored the way his eyes darted to her lips and the way his pupils enveloped the hazel in his eyes.

"I'd sooner put you out of business," she hissed out.

The silence between them stretched as they gazed at each other until Nikolai smirked at her, his breath fanning across her face, ruffling her bangs.

"I'm sure you're an expert," he said, quiet enough that only she could hear, "considering how well you're doing it over here."

The knife missed him by inches on his way out.