My Husband Is a Million Years Old Vampire-Chapter 175

At that moment Valentina parked her car quietly, the engine humming to a soft stop.

then she looked out through the windshield, half expecting to see a tall glass building with polished floors and mirrored windows. Something that screamed importance. Something that at least looked like it housed serious contracts worth millions.

But what she saw...A coffee shop?

She frowned slightly, narrowing her eyes to make sure she wasn’t reading the sign wrong. No. It was exactly what it looked like—just a quiet, corner café with a modest logo and no valet or receptionist in sight.

Her first instinct was hesitation.

This can’t be it.

At that moment her fingers tightened briefly on the steering wheel, debating if she should text Maria again. But the message had been clear. This was the place.

So she exhaled, took her bag, and stepped out of the car.

Immediately the quiet morning air greeted her. A gentle breeze swept her coat as she approached the glass door. It jingled lightly as she pushed it open. Inside, the scent of roasted coffee beans filled the air, warm and earthy. It was calm. Unassuming.

She glanced around the room—and that was when she saw them.

Two men.

One sat near the far window, calm, quietly observing the street through the glass. His posture was composed, one arm resting on the table beside a closed black folder. Young, probably early thirties, but there was something sharp behind the calmness of his expression.

The other man sat more casually, back slightly slouched but with eyes that scanned the room quickly. Also in his thirties—neatly dressed, but his demeanor was harder to read. Not unwelcoming, but not exactly inviting either.

Valentina’s brows furrowed slightly. Her steps slowed. This wasn’t what she expected.

Still, she straightened her coat and kept walking in—because if there was one thing Valentina had learned in this city, it was this: appearances were always the last thing to trust.

At that moment Valentina stepped in fully, her heels clicking gently on the wooden floor as the warm scent of espresso lingered in the air. The waiter by the counter gave a slight nod, standing like he was unsure whether to greet or just observe. She offered him a brief, polite smile before turning her focus back to the table ahead.

The two men stood up as she approached, their movements smooth, calculated—but respectful. She didn’t know what she was expecting, but the way they both subtly adjusted their jackets and nodded toward her before gesturing to the empty seat made her realize something: they had manners, yes—but they also had experience. The calm kind that came from power they didn’t need to announce.

Valentina offered a professional nod.

"Good morning."

"Good morning, Miss Valentina," one of them replied, voice calm and steady.

She took the seat, crossing her legs with silent poise. "I won’t take much of your time," she said directly. "And I’d appreciate it if mine isn’t taken either. I have work after this, so if you could please bring the contract forward, I’ll take a quick look and let you know what I think."

There was a slight pause. Not rude—just intentional.

The man seated closest to the window smiled lightly, then leaned back a little. "Of course. We understand you’re in a hurry," he said slowly, with a trace of humor in his tone, "but... since this is our first meeting, don’t you think it would be better to leave a good impression?"

Valentina narrowed her eyes slightly, unsure if she was being tested or charmed.

The other man chimed in, this one with a more relaxed tone, "Just a small drink, Miss Valentina. A gesture of goodwill. In business, first impressions aren’t just about deals. They’re about building bridges. We might be seeing each other again."

At that moment Her fingers tapped softly on the edge of the table.

She understood the sentiment. In fact, she had said those exact words to clients in the past. But this wasn’t one of those days. Her mind was already occupied with too many things. Too many people. And right now, the only bridge she cared to build was the one that led her back to her car.

Still, declining too quickly would seem unprofessional. Ungrateful, even.

At that moment She managed a faint smile, polite but firm. "I appreciate the offer, but I don’t drink."

The moment Valentina gently declined the drink, one of the men let out a short, pleasant chuckle.

"Well, coffee then," he said smoothly. "Surely you take coffee, Miss Valentina?"

She paused. Turning them down again might make things awkward. She really didn’t want to stay long, but she also didn’t want to seem difficult. She sighed inwardly and nodded once, adjusting the sleeve of her blazer.

"Fine. Coffee," she replied. "No sugar."

The man who had spoken raised his hand, signaled the waiter with a flick of his wrist. "Three cups, please. No sugar."

The other man leaned forward, his expression unreadable, but polite. "Same as the lady."

Moments later, while the clink of cups and quiet chatter filled the café, one of the men reached into the slim black folder he’d brought along and brought out a stack of printed pages. With careful precision, he laid the document flat in front of Valentina.

"We’d appreciate your thoughts," he said simply.

She didn’t respond immediately. Her eyes moved over the bolded title, her fingers lightly grazing the paper. It was thicker than she expected—denser than a simple request. But her attention shifted momentarily as the waiter returned, placing three identical white cups on the table.

Valentina offered a quiet "thank you," and reached for the handle. Just two sips. Just enough to be polite. She lifted it to her lips and took one, then another—warm, rich, and bitter. No sugar, just the way she asked.

She set the cup down gently.

Across from her, one of the men mirrored her actions. The second, however, went further. He lifted his cup with one hand, tipped it back with ease, and drained it completely.

"Now," Valentina said, her tone sharp but composed, "let’s talk business."

Valentina flipped through the pages with quiet precision, her eyes moving quickly yet sharply over each line. Her brows drew together—not in confusion, but in suspicion.

The figures were excellent. Too excellent.

Everything from the projected revenue to the breakdown of responsibilities, penalties, and timelines was solid. Legally airtight. Logically balanced. Even the compensation plan was reasonable—generous, even. Almost too generous.

Her fingers paused halfway through the second page.

This contract looked like it was crafted by someone who didn’t want to leave any room for second thoughts. There were no red flags—no tricky clauses, no hidden conditions. And that’s what made her uncomfortable.

Why does this look too perfect? she thought. Even real billion-dollar deals don’t come this clean.

She looked up slowly, her expression unreadable.

"Everything looks fine," she said carefully, "very fine actually." Her voice was calm, but her eyes searched the two men’s faces. "Too fine, if I’m being honest."

They said nothing. They just waited, like men who had nothing to hide—or men who had rehearsed the silence that made you trust them.

Her eyes lowered again.

She glanced at the company’s name printed boldly at the top of the last page. It didn’t ring any bells. Never heard of them. Not in any city, not in any pitch meeting.

It must be new, she reasoned. Maybe this is how they want to announce themselves—with a bold move.

She leaned back slowly and tapped her fingers against the paper, however if she was asked to accept this, definitely she would, and everything looks so fine, however something in her still wants her to check more perhaps she should do a deeper research.

Still, something didn’t sit right.

Valentina blinked, once... then again, slower. Her eyes felt heavy. The words on the page in front of her began to blur slightly—not from confusion, but like someone had turned down the brightness of the room.

She tried to focus, tried to pull herself together, but the weight behind her eyes was getting stronger. Her heart skipped.

Something was wrong, Very wrong.

Her fingers moved subtly, as though reaching to turn the next page of the contract, but she wasn’t reading anymore. She was trying to steady herself.

"Excuse me," she whispered, her voice barely audible, "the AC... is it too cold in here or..."

She didn’t finish the sentence. Her hand moved to her chest as if to calm her racing heart. Her vision wobbled—just for a second—but long enough for panic to set in behind her composed face.

The two men in front of her exchanged the quickest of glances. Too quick. Too practiced.

Valentina tried to sit upright. She cleared her throat and fought back the dizziness pressing in. But her limbs felt heavier now, her breath shorter.

Her lips parted slightly. Her instincts were screaming now, this wasn’t just exhaustion.

Something was happening to her.frёewebnoѵēl.com