He did, actually. Phantom had recently proposed that The Silent Triad acquire a floundering high-end Chinese baijiu distributor in order to launder more of their money in eastern territories. Of course, Victor had done his research into other luxury brands before agreeing to pursue a deal.

This particular wine was an umbrella brand under Wondrous Spirits, the Rustanov family’s multinational alcohol company. Victor had taken a particular interest in everything the Rustanovs did, because they had also started as mafia before becoming a legitimate business outfit.

He took the bottle from her and gave it an appreciative nod.

She beamed under his silent approval. “Just let me get two glasses, and we’ll have some while I make dinner—”

She cut off when Victor walked over to the trashcan sitting to the kitchen island’s left and dropped the bottle into it unopened.

For the first time since she’d introduced her inane Operation Good as New plan, outrage seeped into her expression. “Why did you do that?”

He signed his next words slowly. “I am not one of your frat boys, willing to fuck you when you’re drunk. I want you fully aware.”

A satisfying flash of fear lit up her eyes. But she smothered it in the next moment under a smile. “Okey-dokey then. Water it is. That pairs with bulgogi too.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “I’m not here for dinner. I’m here for punishment.”

She paused. Then with an equally serious look, signed back, “Can’t you have both?”

A beat passed between them. Charged and electric.

“No,” he answered. “I can’t have both.”

“I think you’re only saying that because you’ve never had my mom’s bulgogi,” she insisted with an irreverent grin. “Dude, it’s so crazy good. Tell you what, if you don’t like it, you can sweep the table and hate fuck me or whatever. When you think about it, that might be even better for you, because I’d be sooo upset that you didn’t like my dinner. Like…”

She made dramatic sobbing sounds. “I was trying so hard to impress Victor with my cooking, and he hated it! What a terrible punishment! This is so much worse than a regular hate fuck!”

Dawn broke off her hypothetical impression to give him a sympathetic look. “You know, I almost wish this bulgogi I’m about to make for you wasn’t so good. I want that vision to come true for you, Victor.”

A ripple of amusement welled inside of him, so unexpected it almost reached his lips.

“See, you’re already almost smiling super reluctantly,” Dawn pointed out with a pleased grin. She grabbed two wine glasses from the overhead cabinet. “Now, please sit down at this way-too-nice-for-me marble kitchen island while I make you an amazing dinner. You’re going to love it, I swear.”