Page 46 of Perfect Stalker

“That’s what makes it perfect.” Jenny taps her fingers on the table. “It’s so public, so visible. Even Alexei wouldn’t try anything there. Plus, the architecture is stunning—those crystal chandeliers, the marble columns...”

“You’ve clearly given this some thought.” I don’t necessarily agree that Alexei won’t try something publicly, since his incursion at “Markov Entertainment” a few weeks ago, but I don’t want to detract from her excitement.

“I haven’t really, but they made an impression on me.” She pulls out her phone, scrolling through photos. “Look at these pictures from their New Year’s event last year. We could do something similar but more intimate. String lights everywhere, ice sculptures, and maybe even a live band.”

I lean closer to see the images. The ballroom does look magnificent, transformed into a winter wonderland. “It would make quite an impression on our clients.”

“Exactly. Plus, it would boost employee morale. Everyone’s been so tense lately with all the changes.” Jenny pauses, meeting my eyes. “They need this, Ivan. A chance to relax and celebrate.”

Her sincerity strikes me. Even after everything she’s learned about me, about my world, she still thinks about others first. “Tell me more about your vision for it.”

“Really?” Her smile widens. “I was thinking we could do a ‘Winter in Paris’ theme. Elegant but not stuffy. White tablecloths, silver accents, silk flowers everywhere so I don’t sneeze the whole time...”

I watch her describe every detail—from the menu to the music selection—with such passion and precision. Her hands move animatedly as she speaks, painting pictures in the air.

“The main course should be beef bourguignon. Something hearty but sophisticated. Marcus said you love French cuisine.”

“Marcus has been sharing my secrets?” I raise an eyebrow.

“Only the good ones.” Jenny grins. “He also mentioned you make an incrediblecoq au vin.”

“Did he now?” I make a mental note to ask Marcus when he’s having these cozy discussions with my…Jenny. “Perhaps I’ll have to make it for you.”

“Yes, please.”

“Then it’s settled.” I settle back in my chair, savoring the moment. “I’ll cook it for you tomorrow night.”

The waiter approaches with our dessert—a dark chocolate soufflé for Jenny and espresso for me. Steam rises from the perfectly formed soufflé as she dips in her spoon.

Her eyes close in pleasure at the first taste. “This is incredible.”

“The chef here trained in Paris.” I watch her savor another bite. “Though I must say, my chocolate mousse might give this soufflé competition.”

Jenny’s spoon pauses halfway to her mouth. “You make desserts too?”

“When the mood strikes.” I take a sip of espresso. “My mentor’s wife insisted I learn the basics of French pastry. Lena said no education was complete without understanding the art of dessert.”

“Tell me more about her.” Jenny sets down her spoon, giving me her full attention. “I know bits and pieces, but not enough to get a true idea of her.”

The memory of Lena’s kind face surfaces. “She was remarkable. The type of woman who could make anyone feel at home with just a smile. Even hardened criminals melted around her.”

She smiles. “They became your family, right?”

“As much as anyone could.” I study the dark liquid in my cup. “Lena taught me to cook, and to appreciate beauty in small things. Vyacheslav taught meBratvabusiness, strategy, and survival. They gave me purpose when I had none.”

“They sound like they were good for you. She was like a mother, you said?”

“Da.” I stare at her for a second, debating whether to share Lena’s advice. Finally, I say, “She always said I needed someone who could see past the surface. Someone strong enough to handle the truth of who I am, yet gentle enough to remind me of who I could be.”

Jenny’s fingers tremble slightly when she takes my hand. “And who do you think you could be?”

The question falls between us, heavy with possibility. I study our joined hands, carefully considering my answer. “A better man than I am now.” I meet her gaze. “Someone worthy of trust. Of loyalty. Of love.”

She licks her lips, and though she doesn’t say anything, her tender expression and gentle nod give me hope.

CHAPTER 17

JENNY

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