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His earnestness makes this so much harder. Why does he have to be so likable, so charming? Why can't he be the monster I expected? I shake my head, pulling away.
"I'm sorry, Roman, I can't explain. I just need to leave."
He looks at me, his eyes filled with confusion – but also understanding. This is a man who knows the right time to push and the right time to relent.
"At least let me call you a cab. Neither of us should be driving."
Before I can object, he's on the phone arranging for a taxi. The car arrives quickly, the raindrops beating against its windows. The door opens, and I start to get in, but Roman's hand on my arm stops me.
"Valentina," he says, his voice gentle. "Will I see you again?"
I look into his eyes, so full of sincerity, and my resolve wavers. Why can't I simply stay away from him? Why do I burn for his touch and crave the taste of his lips? I'm caught between desire and duty, my heart at war with my head.
"You have my number," I finally say, my voice thick with emotion. "Call me."
He smiles, relieved, and leans in. Our lips are mere inches apart, and I can feel his breath on my skin. But he stops short, and instead, his lips find my cheek in a chaste, tender kiss. It's more intimate than I expected, more meaningful, and it leaves me aching for more.
"I'll call you," he promises, his voice husky, his eyes locked on mine. "Soon."
"Good night, Roman," I whisper, my voice barely audible over the sound of the rain.
"Good night, Valentina," he replies, and I can hear the longing in his voice.
As the taxi pulls away, I watch Roman through the rear-view mirror, standing alone in the rain. I feel a profound sense of confusion and longing, my thoughts in turmoil. My mission, my vendetta against the Bratva, everything seems so much more complicated now. Roman has turned my world upside down, and I don't know how to make sense of it.
The rain continues to fall, washing away my tears, but it can't wash away the questions, the doubts, or the undeniable connection between us. I've never felt this way before, and it terrifies me. But as much as I want to run away from it, I know I can't. Roman has gotten under my skin, and I can't shake the feeling that my life will never be the same again.
I step into the warmth of my home, still dripping from the rain. Lena looks up from her book as I enter, concern taking hold as she sees the state I am in.
"Valentina, you're soaked! Is everything all right?" she asks.
"I'm fine, Lena," I respond, my voice sharper than I intend. I see her flinch, and I immediately regret my tone. "I'm sorry, it's just been a long night. Thank you for staying so late with Ilya.”
"Of course," she says, her voice gentle. "He's asleep now, but he wanted me to tell you he loves you and can’t wait to see you in the morning."
I feel a pang in my chest, my heart aching at the reminder of the one person who matters most in my life."Thank you," I say softly, reaching for my purse to pay her. I include a bit extra from the evening’s winnings.
"You look like you could use some rest," Lena comments as she takes the money, her eyes still filled with worry.
"I'll be fine," I assure her, forcing a smile. "Good night, Lena."
"Good night."
After seeing her out, I change into something dry before making my way to my son's room. I peek in, finding him sound asleep, his little chest rising and falling with each breath. My darling boy, the center of my world, my little bear. I quietly step in, tucking the blankets around him and planting a soft kiss on his forehead.
"I love you," I whisper, tears threatening to spill again.
As I leave his room, I feel a turmoil of emotions churning inside me. My mission, my vengeance, my unexpected connection with Roman, everything is tangled and confusing. I lean against the wall, taking deep breaths to steady myself.
What have I done? What am I doing? I've allowed Roman to get close, allowed myself to feel something for him. How can I reconcile that with the fact that he may be my enemy? How can I carry out my mission without losing myself in the process?
Chapter 7
Roman
I'm in the heart of downtown St. Petersburg in the middle of a negotiation that's almost too easy. Standing at the entrance of this chic boutique, I meet the owner's skeptical eyes with a confident grin. My charm's always been a weapon, and I wield it effortlessly.
"The offer stands, Nadia," I say smoothly, my voice filled with charm. "You'll still have creative control, and with my backing, your designs could go global."
