She did not look at him, did not acknowledge the swift brush of his lips over her cheek. Offering the female dealer his most charming smile, Sergei laid a hundred dollar bill on the table. More blasé about his damaged face than Uncle Arkadi, she handed Sergei his chips with the warmth he was accustomed to receiving from women of all ages. Except Valentina Frost, who was definitely living up to her name. Nichevo. If she did not wish to enjoy herself, too bad. He had won a few hours’ respite, and he planned to take full advantage of it. They were skating on thin ice, he and Ms Valentina Frost, but that added to the thrill of the chase. With the immediate threat of execution lifted, his blood could surge with pleasure instead of fear. He could catch his breath. Gamble, make plans. Make love, perhaps. Sergei’s lips curled in a secret smile as he asked for a card. Whatever was bothering her, she would get over it. He would make sure of that.
