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It isn’t long at all before we arrive at the airport, and the moment Valentina’s gaze lands on the sleek, gleaming jet—its silhouette cutting a formidable figure against the rapidly darkening sky—her eyes widen in astonishment.
"You can't be serious," she breathes, an incredulous smile playing at the corners of her lips. “What is this?”
I sidle up next to her, offering a sly grin. "Remember when you said I was full of surprises? Tonight, I’m taking you to Rome. When I asked if you were in the mood for Italian, I meant it.”
She chuckles, shaking her head. "This is beyond anything I could have imagined. You're really a romantic deep down, aren’t you?"
I lean in, my lips brushing against her ear. "Only for the right woman."
Stepping onto the jet, Valentina looks around with barely concealed awe. The interior is an ode to luxury: plush cream-colored leather seats, mahogany wood accents, and ambient lighting that casts a soft, golden hue over everything. There's a bar stocked with the finest champagnes and spirits, and soft jazz melodies filter through the state-of-the-art sound system.
"It's beautiful," she whispers, tracing a finger along the smooth surface of a leather armrest.
I nod in appreciation. "The best for tonight."
However, a note of concern soon enters her voice. "Roman, I hope you don’t have a weekend getaway planned. I can't be away from Ilya for too long."
I smile reassuringly. "Don't worry. Dinner in Rome, a night under the stars, and we'll be back by morning."
Her relief is palpable. "Good," she says, slipping out her phone and sending a quick text to her sitter, most likely, letting her know about the change in plans.
“Your sitter won’t mind the overnight?”
“No.”
The simple answer is curious, but I don’t comment. Her sitter is her business.
After ensuring her comfort, she casts a curious glance my way. "How do you afford all this? It's beyond extravagant."
I pause, considering my answer. While the truth of my operations isn't something I'm ready to share, I've prepared a cover story for such inquiries.
"Well, the taxi business has been good to me," I begin, "but I’ve been branching out. Real estate development, mainly. There’s a lot of money to be made in acquiring old properties, revitalizing them, and turning them into luxury accommodations."
She raises an eyebrow. "So you're not just a taxi mogul?"
"There's more to me than meets the eye, Valentina. Always."
The evening stretches before us, filled with endless possibilities. And as the jet's engines roar to life, I'm more certain than ever I'll do whatever it takes to win this woman’s heart.
The three-hour flight goes by with incredible speed, Valentina and I sharing a bit of wine as we talk, her telling me story after story of Ilya, and me matching her with amusing tales of my nieces and nephews. There’s an ease, a comfort to our conversation I wasn’t quite prepared for.
It’s not long at all before Rome unfolds beneath us. The excitement is palpable. We disembark from the plane, the breeze carrying a mixture of history, passion, and a promise of adventure. Valentina's wonderment shines brightly; the cityscape reflected in her widened eyes.
The Trevi Fountain is our first destination. Water cascades rhythmically while tourists and locals alike are engrossed in the age-old tradition. Valentina laughs, the sound echoing like a chime as she gracefully tosses a coin over her left shoulder with her right hand. I mimic her, silently hoping the legend of a return to Rome might also mean a return with her. Later, we indulge ourselves at a nearby gelateria. The taste of stracciatella on her lips and pistachio on mine becomes an inside joke between us as we share playful jabs and stolen tastes.
Hand in hand, we meander through the ancient streets of Rome. The colossal structure of the Pantheon evokes awe, its massive columns shadowing us. Our journey leads us to the Colosseum, its grandeur painting pictures of gladiators and roaring crowds. Valentina leans against its stones, lost in thought. I snap a photograph, capturing her silhouette against the backdrop of time.
Evening finds us in Trastevere. A small, candlelit restaurant welcomes us with the aroma of authentic Italian cuisine. Twinkling lights from above and the soulful tunes of a distant accordion wrap around us, creating an atmosphere of romance. Plates of spaghetti carbonara and osso buco are our choice for the night, each bite an explosion of flavor, each sip of wine a journey to vineyards.
A nearby jazz club becomes our refuge as the night deepens. The notes from a saxophone create an invisible thread pulling us closer on the dance floor. As the world outside fades, our dance becomes a silent conversation, telling tales of desire and longing.
Before the night ends, we find solitude on a rooftop. The vast expanse of the city lies below us, a sea of lights against the dark canvas. Conversation flows, and in the midst of shared stories and hushed tones, our faces inch closer, the promise of a kiss lingering in the air.
However, Rome, with all its allure, soon becomes a memory as we head back to the jet. As the city bids us farewell, the weight of the night rests between us.
As the jet soars through the night sky, the world below seems distant, removed, and insignificant. We're left in a bubble, a momentary world created just for us, where only our heartbeats and the thrum of the plane's engines break the silence. The plush leather of the jet's interior reflects the ambient light, casting soft glows over Valentina's face. Those eyes, ones I'd gotten lost in over the beautiful streets of Rome, now pierce through me with an intensity impossible to resist.
As I pour us some wine, she moves closer. Our glasses clink, and I'm taken aback by her forwardness when she gently sets hers down and slides onto my lap. The sensation of her body pressed against mine sends a jolt through me. Her fingers trace patterns on the nape of my neck, and I tilt her chin up to meet her gaze. The air between us is electric, charged with unspoken desires.
