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"I'm sure," she replies, her voice steady, her eyes locked on mine. "But don't expect me to go easy on you. Dinner will be a whole new game."
"I wouldn't have it any other way," I reply.
“And one more thing,” she says. “My name’s not Galina – it’s Valentina.”
Before I can wrap my head around what she’s said, we part ways. As I watch her walk away, I feel like this is the beginning of something big, something that goes beyond a simple dinner date.
Galina – or Valentina—has challenged me, intrigued me, captivated me, and I can't wait to see where this game takes us next.
Chapter 6
Valentina
Ituck the hefty wad of cash into my purse, a satisfied smirk on my lips. Victory tastes sweet, but the thrill of besting Roman Nicolaevich adds an extra zing. No doubt a man as cocky as he isn’t used to losing.
Killing him at dinner would be poetic, wouldn't it? Slip a little something into his food, watch him choke and sputter, then walk away, leaving him dead in some fancy restaurant, that cocky smirk replaced by a death mask of total shock, his head plopped into his soup.
I'm just about to make my exit, my mind whirring with plans and possibilities when Roman approaches me, his charming smile plastered on his face.
"Valentina," he says, his voice oozing confidence. " I know a great place nearby. We can go right now."
I blink, momentarily thrown off guard. My plans are still hazy, unformed, but his proximity sends a jolt through me, making my heart race in a way I don't entirely understand.
"Right now?" I stammer, cursing myself for sounding so unsure. I'm the Ghost; I don't get flustered. I don't lose control.
"Why not?" he shrugs, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I'm hungry, and you owe me a meal."
"I won, remember?" I retort, finding my footing once more. "I don't owe you anything."
"You gave me your number," he counters, leaning in close, his breath warm on my cheek. "That means you want to have dinner with me."
I'm momentarily stunned by his audacity but also intrigued by the challenge he's laid before me. My mind once more returns to the ultimate goal of his death. A steak knife to the heart might be crude, but it would be effective.
"I suppose you're right," I reply, offering him a tight-lipped smile. "But don't think this means you’ll be getting any more than a meal."
"I would never dream of it," he replies, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm.
We make our way down the block in silence, and I find myself in mild shock from the spell this man seems to have cast on me.
The restaurant Roman has chosen is nearby, surrounded by boutiques and art galleries. Its facade is understated, almost hidden, but as we step inside, I'm struck by its effortless sophistication.
I reluctantly admit to myself that he has good taste. The restaurant is chic without trying too hard, appealing without being ostentatious. It strikes the perfect balance between luxury and comfort, and I can see why he would choose it.
As we're escorted to our table, I wonder if Roman has a formula down pat for wooing dates. A specific strategy involving selecting the perfect restaurant, ordering the right wine, saying all the right things. It would be like him, I think, to have such a calculated approach to seduction.
But as much as I try to dismiss the setting, to ignore its charm, I find myself affected by it. The restaurant's ambiance is working its magic on me, making me feel at ease, relaxed.
I shake the thought away, reminding myself I'm here for a purpose. Roman may have brought me here to wine and dine me, to get me into bed, but I'm here to end his life.
As we settle into our seats, I size him up, imagining the best way to strike, to kill him without raising suspicion. He's tall, strong, probably capable of defending himself, but I'm confident, skilled, and determined. Maybe he could hold his own in a fight, but a knife through the ribs and into the heart would be enough to bring down even the most seasoned killer.
"Is this your usual spot for impressing women?" I ask, raising an eyebrow at Roman. "I imagine you must have a well-rehearsed routine. I bet you’ve even got a nearby hotel where you’re a regular.”
He doesn't miss a beat, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he leans back in his chair. "Only for the ones I find exceptionally intriguing," he retorts with a playful grin. "And besides, it's not the place that impresses them, Valentina, it's the company."
I'm taken aback by his quick response, a surprised laugh escaping me. I find myself genuinely amused by his quip and his unflappable confidence. I expected arrogance, a rehearsed charm, but there's an authenticity to Roman that's disarming.
"I suppose I should feel flattered then," I respond, feeling a warmth in my cheeks that has nothing to do with the wine.
