Ghost

My face fell...

"Is something wrong?" Alice asked.

"It's nothing," I replied. "There is just someone I know with the same name as you."

"Hmm... is she your ex?" she asked with a knowing smile.

"You could say that," I said with a wry smile.

Alice eyed my suit. "You seem to be busy," she remarked.

"Yes, actually. I must go," I said regretfully, checking the time. "But it was nice to meet you."

"You too," Alice replied warmly. "We're staying here for the weekend. Maybe catch you around?"

With a nod and a smile, I walked away.

I got behind the wheel of the Mercedes, starting the engine with a sigh.

'I need to calm down,' I thought to myself, gripping the steering wheel. 'She doesn't look like her at all.'

I drove off from the hotel and fifteen minutes later, I found myself in the financial district of Miami. 

Passing through the gates of one of the largest tax consulting firms in the city, Apex Tax Consultants, I parked the Mercedes next to a row of sleek, executive cars.

I stepped out of the car slowly, and walked up to the sleek glass entrance of the building.

The lobby had a modern look and it was very quiet.

Adjusting my suit jacket, I walked over to the reception desk confidently.

A blonde woman with her hair tied in a neat bun looked up from her computer with a professional smile

"Good afternoon, sir. What may I help you with?" she asked politely.

I met her gaze seriously. "I'm here to meet Mr. Sidorov. Could you inform him that a client is waiting for him?"

The receptionist nodded. "Of course. What's the purpose of the meeting?"

"Just tell him exactly what I'm about to say." I instructed the receptionist, pausing briefly before continuing. "I'm here to establish a new company, and Mr. Sidorov is the only man in Miami who can help me accomplish that," I said with confidence, leaving no room for doubt.

The receptionist noted down the message with a nod. "I'll inform him right away. Please have a seat, Mr...?"

"Christopher Vanderbilt," I supplied.

...

I sat down on one of the black couches in the lobby.

There was a small table with brochures. I picked one up and looked at it.

Flipping through it, I noted the firm's impressive collaboration with notable Fortune 500 companies like Johnson & Johnson, Mohawk Industries, and Avis Budget Group.

Lost in thought, I was interrupted by the receptionist approaching gracefully, her hand smoothing down her black pencil skirt. "Mr. Vanderbilt," she began, her tone professional yet friendly, "Mr. Sidorov will be with you shortly to escort you personally to the meeting room."

I nodded. "Thank you," I replied courteously.

She offered a warm smile before returning to her station.

I kept reading the brochure, and it said that they could lower taxes and make any business run more efficiently. It said that they would look for any way to cut costs.

"Mr. Vanderbilt?" a serious voice asked.

I looked up.

Before me stood a slender man, in the prime of his years, wearing a suit that was meticulously crafted to fit his frame. His gaze was focused and professional. His short hair had streaks of grey, which seemed at odds with his youthful appearance. A pair of sleek, frame-less glasses perched on his nose made him ooze intellectual sharpness.

"Yes, that's me," I confirmed.

'There he is.' I thought.

Sidorov didn't smile warmly, no.

His eyebrows were creased, and he looked extremely anxious.

"I'm sorry, but have we met before?" he asked.

I didn't answer immediately. Instead, I glanced at him, assessing the situation. "I think it would be best if we moved to an office," I suggested calmly, putting the brochure down and rising up from the couch.

Mr. Sidorov nodded. "Of course," he replied, leading the way to his office.

We followed the corridor to its end, where his office was located.

He opened the door and gestured for me to enter first.

The room had a big desk in the front, neatly organized with a few folders and a computer screen. To the right was a substantial shelf filled with documents. On the left side, a plush sofa.

Sidorov moved behind the desk and gestured for me to take a seat on the chair placed in front. "Please, make yourself comfortable."

I slowly sat down on the chair, observing Sidorov's demeanor.

"I know what you're thinking, Mr. Sidorov," I began as I met his gaze directly. "You have never seen me before and my name also isn't known to you... you're getting nervous about what this could imply..."

Sidorov tried to maintain a composed exterior, but it was starting to fall apart. "I'm sorry, sir, but could you stop beating around the bush? Are you a lawyer? Why are you coming to me? Who send you here?" He was losing his temper, and some of his Russian accent came through.

I leaned forward slightly, maintaining eye contact. "I might be a lawyer," I said calmly, watching his reaction closely.

He paused, his jaw tensing."How did you find me?" he demanded, his tone inked with disbelief.

"It's none of your concern," I replied evenly, choosing my words carefully. "What matters is that I'm here now, seeking your expertise on a business matter."

Sidorov's expression did a complete 180.

It was as if he had glimpsed a light at the end of a tunnel.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked cautiously, his voice softer now. "Are you not going to give me away to the police?"

I met his gaze steadily. "That is not my goal," I assured him calmly. "But if you don't want me to disclose your identity as well as all your clients, I need you to cooperate with me."

Sidorov's shoulders visibly relaxed.

He looked at me sharply, adjusting his glasses. "What exactly are we talking about?" he asked.

I gave him a calm smile and crossed one leg over the other. "I think you know the drill. I want you to establish a company for me, but I need it to not be traced back to me." My answer was a bit cocky.

"I will need a ghost." I added.

Mr. Sidorov's gaze narrowed slightly, contemplating my request. His mind seemed to be processing the implications of our conversation, weighing the risks and potential benefits.

"A ghost company," he mused quietly. "No official ties to you, but operational under your direction. That's a delicate matter."

"Indeed. But I know that you can make it happen." I said and then gave him a chilling smile. "Besides... what choice do you have, Mr. Sidorov?"

I continued, "If you won't do what I tell you, I will see to it that you are held accountable for forging documents, creating a multitude of ghost institutions, fabricating identities and especially for organizing parties for the wealthy filled with questionable activities..."

Sidorov's expression tightened.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the ticking of the clock on the wall.

"And knowing about all that, you still decide to take part in this?" He finally broke the silence. His eyes searching mine for any hint of hesitation or doubt. "You're playing a dangerous game, sir."

I leaned back in my chair, my eyes never leaving his. "Mr. Sidorov... it's not a game when victory is certain."