Opus

When her alarm went off that evening, Alessia still hadn't made up her mind. She showered and dressed carefully, choosing a simple black dress that was elegant without being too flashy. As she applied her makeup, she tried to convince herself that she was just going to hear Nikolai out, that she wasn't committing to anything.

At precisely 8 PM, a sleek black Bentley Bentayga pulled up in front of her building. The driver, a stone-faced man in a dark suit, opened the back door for her without a word. Alessia slid into the plush leather seat, her heart racing.

As the car pulled away from the curb, Alessia's mind whirled with conflicting thoughts. What am I doing? she wondered, her fingers nervously smoothing the fabric of her dress. This isn't just some wealthy businessman. This is the Bratva. The Russian mafia.

The realization sent a chill down her spine. She'd heard whispers about the Bratva's activities in the city - extortion, drug dealing, even human trafficking. And now she was willingly walking into their world.

But then the image of her brother Marco's face behind the prison glass flashed in her mind, followed by the stack of overdue bills on her kitchen counter. Can I really turn down this opportunity? she thought. With this money, I could solve all our problems.

Trying to distract herself from her turbulent thoughts, Alessia cleared her throat. "So, um, where exactly are we going?" she asked the driver.

The man's eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, meeting hers for a brief moment before returning to the road. "Opus," he replied curtly.

Alessia's eyebrows shot up. Opus was the most exclusive restaurant in the city, a place where even celebrities struggled to get reservations. "Oh," she said weakly. "That's... nice."

She tried again. "Have you worked for Mr. Zhukov long?"

This time, the driver didn't even look at her. "Da."

Alessia fell silent, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. Of course. What had she expected? A friendly conversation about her potential employer's criminal empire?

As the car wound its way through the city's glittering downtown, Alessia's anxiety mounted. She's always prided herself on her ethical standards, on doing the right thing no matter what. But isn't helping my family the right thing? she argued with herself. And who knows, maybe I can do some good from the inside. Maybe I can help people who can't go to regular hospitals.

Even as she thought it, Alessia knew she was rationalizing. The truth was, she was terrified - but possibly more disturbing, she was also undeniably excited. The danger, the secrecy, the promise of wealth beyond her wildest dreams... it was intoxicating and nerve-wracking all at the same time. She'd never thought of herself as an adrenaline junkie though she had become an ER physician after experiencing the rush that came with saving someone that no one thought could be saved during medical school. No other specialty appealed to her after that one rotation. Lately, though, being an ER doc was more and more like being a primary care physician –-bronchitis, Covid, strep throat, these were all more common diagnoses these days than gunshot wounds and motor vehicle accidents. Alessia had to admit she was craving a little more excitement in her life.

The car finally came to a stop in front of a stunningly beautiful building. Gold-leafed Art Deco designs adorned the facade, and obsidian marble began at the steps from the mundane concrete sidewalk and stretched upwards as far as the eye could see.

The door gave a muted, heavy thunk behind her. "Ask for Mr. Zhukov at the hostess desk," the driver told her before getting back in the Bentley and driving away, leaving Alessia alone. She took a deep breath, straightening her spine. This is it, she thought. No turning back now. Somewhere inside, Nikolai Zhukov was waiting for her. Bratva boss. Potential employer. A man who could change her life forever - for better or for worse. With one final, steadying breath, Alessia straightened her shoulders and walked towards the entrance, ready to meet her fate.

She climbed the shiny marble steps carefully until she was in front of a man in a dark suit who flashed a blinding smile in her direction. He opened the golden doors for her with a little bow. "Welcome to Opus, Dr. Russo."

Alessia blinked. How did he know who she was? Before she could ask, the man was snapping his fingers at a willowy blonde-haired woman in a black dress that fit her like a second skin. "Tatiana, show Dr. Russo to Mr. Zhukov's table please."

Alessia tried to smile at the woman but her perfectly passive expression didn't move. "Follow me, please," the woman said in a slight Eastern European accent as she swiveled on her impossibly high stilettos and led Alessia into the subdued lighting of the ultra-exclusive restaurant.

Suddenly feeling underdressed and in over her head, Alessia tried to keep up with the woman and maintain some dignity rather than looking like the ugly duckling following behind the ethereal princess. She was a doctor, for fucks sake! Why was she letting a 'hostess' intimidate her? She pulled herself up to her full five foot three and slowed her pace. Russian Barbie could just slow down. If she lost Alessia somewhere in her wake, she'd surely be reprimanded, wouldn't she?

Finally, the hostess stopped at a large, half-moon shaped booth where two huge, muscular man stood at attention. Both men were in suits but had shaved heads and dead eyes, just like the other man she had met in the alley. Alessia swallowed the lump of fear that has suddenly coalesced in her throat and clasped her hands at her waist, willing them not to shake. She had a feeling that showing fear around these people would not be good for her.

"Dr. Russo," Russian Barbie said to someone sitting in the booth behind the mountain of muscle in front of her, her tone as bored as any teenagers Alessia had ever heard.

"Thank you, Tanechka," said a deep, gravely voice, the Russian clear in the cadence of his words.

Suddenly, as if hearing a silent signal, the two hulking men each took two steps sideways and Alessia was finally face to face with Nickolai Zhukov. She didn't know exactly what she'd been expecting but she knew it wasn't the incredibly handsome, perfectly tailored man in front of her.

As she stared, Nikolai rose from his seat and stepped toward her, offering his hand. "Dr. Alessia," he said warmly, taking her hand and shaking it twice firmly. "I'm so glad you could make it tonight. Please have a seat."

One of the giants held out a chair for her and she settled into it as Nickolai resumed his seat. Alessia felt a blush creep up her cheeks. Up close, the man was even more breathtaking. His dark hair was perfectly styled, and his bespoke suit hinted at a well-muscled physique underneath. A blood red pocket square was perfectly folded in his front breast pocket giving him an air of old-world charm.

A glint on his finger caught her attention and she tried not to stare at the giant ruby in the gold setting that sat on heavily tattooed fingers. In fact, both his hands were heavily tattooed, much of it in Cyrillic script she couldn't read. As her eyes trailed up his broad chest, she saw more tattoos at the opening of his dress shirt that snaked up the sides of his neck. The tattoos were the only thing that would distinguish him from any other rich entrepreneur having dinner in a place like Opus. She suppressed a shiver of excitement at the thought of seeing more of the ink that was hiding under his tailored attire. Pushing the thought aside, she reminded herself that she was here on business. Very important business.

When she finally met his eyes, she didn't miss the smirk on his full, defined lips. She'd obviously looked too long and he was apparently arrogant enough to enjoy it. "It's nice to meet you," she said lamely, her voice annoyingly breathy instead of her usual strong, commanding tone. "I appreciate you taking the time."

"Of course, of course." Nickolai gestured expansively. "Have you been here before?"

"Um, no. I don't get much time off." Alessia picked up her water glass and took a sip. And I don't have anywhere near enough money or celebrity to even get on the guest list, she thought.

"Such a shame." The man picked up a crystal highball glass half full of amber liquid, motioning in her direction with it. "A beautiful woman such as yourself should be taken to only the best places."

Alessia choked a little on her water and working double time to hold back the eye roll she wanted to give this man. Beautiful? She knew she wasn't ugly, but she was far from beautiful with her boring black hair, eyes that were a tad too big, and a mouth that was too wide for her heart-shaped face. But, if he wanted to try to be charming, she wouldn't naysay him.

"That's kind of you to say, Mr. Zhukov, but being a doctor doesn't leave you much time for a social life—I'm not being taken to places like this or anywhere else on a regular basis."

Before he could respond, a young man in a white button up shirt, black pants and a black server's apron appeared at their table balancing several plates on his arms. "Thank you, Adam," Nickolai said to the server who looked like he might faint away right in front of them from the big man acknowledging him. "I hope you don't mind," he said, his attention turned back to Alessia. "I took the liberty of ordering some of the best hors d'oeuvres for us to start. I know many of you American women are, how do you say it, the feministka, but I think it is silly to limit good manners, don't you?"

Alessia raised an eyebrow, but pasted on her best 'everything is going to be just fine' smile she had perfected in the ER, and set to eating. She figured she'd never get a chance to eat in a place like this ever again so if this guy wanted to through some sexism around, she was all for it.

She found the tension slowly leaving her body as Nikolai kept the conversation light, asking about her work at the hospital and her medical training. Alessia was almost able to pretend this was just a normal dinner date, albeit one with the best food she'd ever put in her mouth and giant, hulking bodyguards just out of her peripheral vision.

It wasn't until after their coffee and dessert arrived that Nikolai steered the conversation to the real purpose of their meeting. "I hope you don't mind if we discuss business," he said, his tone becoming more serious. "I'm sure you have… reservations about our proposal, and I'd like to address them."

Alessia set down her fork, the moist death by chocolate cake turned to ashes in her mouth. "Alright, I'm listening."

Nikolai leaned forward slightly. "I represent a group of businessmen who operate in... let's say, gray areas of the law. Sometimes our associates find themselves in need of medical care that can't be easily explained to the authorities or suffering from conditions that they wouldn't want known. That's where you would come in."

"You want me to treat gunshot wounds and pretend I never saw anything," Alessia said bluntly.

Nikolai's lips quirked into a small smile. "Among other things, yes. But it wouldn't always be so dramatic. Sometimes it might be treating an illness discreetly or providing medical advice for… sensitive situations."

Alessia frowned. "And what happens if I refuse to treat someone, or if I decide I want out?"

"You would always have the right to refuse any specific request," Nikolai assured her, sitting back in his chair, waving away her concern with a large but well-manicured hand. "As for leaving our arrangement, we would simply part ways. No threats, no retaliation. We value discretion above all else."

It sounded too good to be true. Alessia's instincts told her there had to be a catch. "And what would I be paid for these services?"

Nikolai named a figure that made Alessia's eyes widen. It was more than double her current annual salary. "That would be your monthly retainer," he continued. "Plus, bonuses for any specific treatments or procedures."

Alessia's mind raced. With that kind of money, she could pay off all her debts within a year and still have plenty left over. She could help Marco get back on his feet when he got out of prison, maybe even start a college fund for her future kids.

But the ethical implications weighed heavily on her. "I took an oath when I became a doctor," she said softly. "To do no harm, to always act in the best interest of my patients. What you're asking... it goes against everything I believe in."

Nikolai's navy blue eyes met hers, his gaze intense. "I understand your hesitation, Dr. Russo. But consider this - by providing care to those who can't seek it through official channels, you may be preventing even greater harm. And with financial security, think of how many more people you could help in your regular practice."

Alessia bit her lip, conflicted. Part of her knew Nikolai was manipulating her, using her own ethics against her. But another part couldn't help but see the logic in his argument. And the money. What she could do with that money!

"I... I need time to think about it," she said finally.

Nikolai nodded, seemingly unsurprised. "Of course. Take your time. But I will need an answer within the week. We have other candidates if you decide this isn't for you."

As they finished their coffee, the conversation again drifted to lighter topics. The Bratva boss was clearly smart and conversed easily on many different topics. Alessia even found herself laughing at Nikolai's dry wit, almost able to forget who and what he was and the weighty decision hanging over her.

When he walked her to his car, she found herself almost sad that the evening was over. Despite the weighty reason for the meeting, she had to admit she had enjoyed herself.

"Ivan will take you home," Nickolai said, his hand warm settled on her lower back as they stopped at the Bentley.

Alessia slipped into the backseat before speaking. "Thank you for dinner, Mr. Zhukov. I will give your proposition a lot of thought."

"Nickolai," he stated. Alessia's brow furrowed. "Call me Nickolai."

Feeling the heat rising in her cheeks at the soft command, she cleared her throat before answering. "Nickolai, then."

A slow, satisfied smile crawled over his lips. "I look forward to hearing from you…Alessia."

The door shut before she could respond, and she leaned back into the soft leather seats with a huff of breath. Nickolai was nothing like she'd expected and when the car dropped her off at home later that night, Alessia's mind was no clearer than it had been before dinner. She knew the smart thing would be to walk away, to find another way out of her financial troubles. But the temptation of the handsome Bratva officer's offer lingered, a siren song she couldn't quite shake.

As she got ready for bed, Alessia's gaze fell on a framed photo of herself and Marco from happier times. She thought of her brother sitting in a prison cell, of the mountain of debt that threatened to crush her. Could she really turn down a chance to fix everything, even if it meant compromising her principles?

Alessia crawled into bed, knowing sleep would be elusive once again. She had six days to make a decision that would change the course of her life forever. Whatever she chose, there would be no going back.