The Hitman's Secret

Ch. 15: Playing With Fire

VALENTINA

Almost as soon as her thumb pressed "send," the liquid courage coursing through Val's veins ran dry.

"Oh fuck," she whispered to herself, staring at the damning text in horror.

Dio. What had she done? Not even five seconds ago, she'd been so confident in her decision to request more from her relationship with Matteo. And now... What if she ruined everything between them?

"Alex?" she called the bartender, a pretty woman with buzzed hair and an impressive number of piercings. "Can I get another one of these?"

If Alex replied, Val didn't know. Her drunken mind could only focus on one thing: the spot on her screen where three little dots would appear when Matteo started to type. She didn't look up, only muttered her thanks when a new glass of gin appeared in her peripheral vision.

Seconds turned to minutes, and Val relied on her new drink to numb the twist of regret worsening in her gut.

If she wasn't nursing her fourth glass of gin, she might've had the common sense to remember that the hitman was on a mission for her father. For all she knew, Matteo was in the process of disposing of the Romano famiglia's most dangerous enemy. She shouldn't have expected him to text her back until morning, but tomorrow would be too late. Her bravado wouldn't last that long.

When the tension of staring at her phone screen became too much, Val flipped the device over and left it on the bartop. She folded her hands in front of her and held tight, an attempt to tame her fingers that itched to turn her phone back around and wait. Like a desperate fool.

A desperate, drunk fool.

Then, she felt it. The smallest, rhythmic vibration that thrummed against the pulse of the club's bass.

She had the cell phone flipped over in record time, and her heart leapt into her throat at the sight of his name on her lock screen. Matteo Costa.

Val sucked in a deep breath and opened the message.

Good evening to you too, principessa.

She pouted at his formal non-response, even while the playful undertones of the text made her toes curl in excitement. Sipping on her glass of gin at a slower pace, Val mulled over her reply.

How rude of me. Good evening, cane. I want to request a modification to our ground rules, she reiterated, smirking as she pressed send.

This time, she didn't have to wait long for another text.

Shouldn't you be tending to your fiancè? Again, he evaded her request, this time with a poignant jab at her farce of an engagement and the contract that bound her to it.

She could practically imagine the smirk on his chiseled face. The male satisfaction gleaming in his whiskey eyes at her frustration.

Well, two could play at this game.

She took another slow pull of gin, adjusted her glimmering sapphire skirt, and typed her own volley. Ezra disappeared to one of the back rooms with his friends and a few dancers an hour or two ago. You think I should go join them? I'm sure I could make it in time for round two...

A longer pause separated his next response: He left you alone?

The tone of his text shifted, and triumph curled in her stomach. Her words had met their mark, and the renowned hitman had fallen directly into her trap.