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A sip of whiskey steadies my hand as I consider my next move. My contacts. Maybe they have information on this mysterious Iosef Tolensky. But contacting them brings its own set of risks. With the Chechen mob, and now Valentina, gunning for me, it's a dangerous game to play.
As the hours bleed away, I’m no closer to any answers. The room feels stifling, the weight of my situation suffocating. I push away from the desk, rubbing the tension from my temples.
A photograph on the bookshelf catches my eye. It’s of my brothers and me, all of us together when we were younger before life became so complicated – the sole sentimental object in the apartment. My reasons for being in St. Petersburg, for everything I've done, all come back to them. And as I stare at their faces, a determination settles over me.
The dim light of my apartment feels like a cocoon, separating me from the dangers outside. I run a hand through my hair, inhaling deeply as the weight of the evening's events bears down on me. Every fiber of my being aches to hear Valentina's voice, to understand why she's been toying with me, but first, I need to learn more about Iosef.
Reaching for my phone, I dial Andrei's number. It's late, but I know he'll pick up. He always does.
"Roman?" His voice is tired but alert.
"Andrei, I need a favor. I need you to dig up all you can on someone named Iosef Tolensky. He’s connected somehow to the Chechens here."
A pause. "Why?"
I hesitate for a moment. Sharing everything with Andrei means baring the most vulnerable parts of myself. "I'm not ready to go into details yet."
He lets out an exasperated sigh. "You're always so damn secretive. Fine, I'll help. But you better fill me in soon."
"I promise. As soon as I have all the pieces," I reply, gratitude warming my chest.
We hang up, and I find myself alone again with my swirling thoughts. Every memory of Valentina flashes before me – our intimate moments, our playful banter, the undeniable spark between us. Was it all an act? The pain of that possibility stings like a fresh wound.
But the logical part of me wrestles with the emotional part. If Valentina truly wanted me dead, she’s had ample opportunities. We've been close, alone, vulnerable. Yet she never took the final step. Was she gathering information? No, that doesn’t fit either. Our conversations were light, personal, never probing into the depths of the Bratva or my family's dealings.
And the attraction...that was undeniable. It wasn’t just physical, but emotional. Our souls connected in a way that’s hard to fake. The way she looked at me, touched me, spoke to me – it was genuine. I can’t be wrong about that.
The realization hits me like a ton of bricks. Valentina may be an enigma, but I refuse to believe she's a heartless killer. There's something more at play here, something deeper than revenge.
Frustration gnaws at me as I try calling her. Predictably, it goes to voicemail. I imagine her looking at her phone, seeing my name, and purposely ignoring it. The thought angers me, but it also fuels my determination.
I won't be pushed out of St. Petersburg. I’m not one to run away from challenges, and I’m definitely not abandoning someone who’s inexplicably wound her way into my heart. Valentina might be the most complex puzzle I’ve ever encountered, but I’m determined to solve it.
Leaning back on the couch, I plot my next move. Valentina is an expert at staying off the radar, so finding her won’t be easy. But I have resources, connections, and a burning desire to get to the truth. I'm not above using the Bratva's vast network to track her down, but I know it’s going to take more than manpower. It’s going to take wit, cunning, and maybe even a little charm.
I smile to myself. Challenge accepted.
* * *
The glittering chandeliers and plush decor of The Empyrean Hotel loom before me as I stride in. It's a place I've been to several times, both for business and pleasure, and the staff recognizes me immediately. My gaze narrows in on the front desk, where a striking receptionist with honey-blonde hair is typing away. I've always believed a bit of charm can open more doors than threats, so I decide to work my magic.
"Good evening," I purr, leaning casually against the desk. "Looking radiant as always, Miss Elizaveta."
She looks up, startled, and then her face breaks into a broad smile. "Roman! It's been ages. What brings you here?"
"I wish it were pleasure," I reply, flashing her a sly grin. "But alas, I'm here on business."
She rolls her eyes playfully. "Always so busy. Tell me, what can I do for you?"
"I'm looking for a gentleman," I say smoothly. "Goes by the name of Paul Rutherford. I believe he's a guest here."
Paul had been at the Grand Tsarina the night before, but my tailing efforts of the evening revealed he’d changed locations. Had he suspected something with the strange encounter between myself, him, and Valentina the night before? Or was it a simple desire for a change of scenery? No way to know.
Elizaveta raises an eyebrow. "Are you sure you're not here to see me?"
I chuckle. "As much as I'dloveto wine and dine you, Elizaveta, tonight is about Mr. Rutherford. Do you know if he's in?"
She feigns a sigh of disappointment. "Your loss. But I might have seen him. Word is, he headed out to dine at La Lumière. Swanky place."
