The restaurant Victor had chosen didn't have a sign.
The building was tucked behind a walled garden on the quieter edge of the city's financial district, hidden in plain sight, surrounded by ivy-covered stone, and lit only by soft gold lanterns that flickered like they'd been blessed by someone with taste and a personal grudge against LED.
The table was set beneath an old white magnolia tree, its branches low and fragrant, its petals softening the ground in a perfect circle of indulgent privacy. Linen draped the table like spilled cream, and the crystal glasses already glistened with condensation. There were no other diners in the courtyard, only a string quartet in the corner pretending to be ornamental and two waiters with expressions too calm to be natural.
Victor pulled out a chair and waited.
Elias sat slowly, still eyeing the garden like it might turn into a political trap. "This looks expensive."
