Chapter 45

Chapter Forty-Five

" H ow long have you known my father? Conrad, I mean." Kira and Juliette strolled through a tourist square in Victoria, with Rand following behind as they wove through the crowd on the sweltering hot Monday morning.

"Five…no, six years." Juliette pulled open the glass door of a gelato shop, and Kira stepped inside, again thankful for the invention of air-conditioning.

They joined the queue and placed their orders, then decided to eat at a table inside to escape the heat. Rand had a giant waffle cone filled with strawberry and drizzled with chocolate syrup. He'd winked at her when he ordered, and she'd laughed.

She'd gone for a much smaller and a lot less messy cup of vanilla caramel swirl. She'd save strawberry for when they were alone.

"How did you meet? I'm sorry, but I know so little about my father's visits to Malta. I'm eternally curious."

"It was art that brought us together."

Well, that was hardly surprising and not the information she was looking for. She took a bite of gelato and tried again. "On Friday, when I first showed up at the gallery, did you know I was Conrad Hanson's daughter?"

"No. I recognized you from the portrait, and so I asked Phillipe after I saw you talking to him. I was stunned when he said you were Conrad's daughter. As I mentioned then, I had no idea he had a daughter, but I guessed immediately who your mother must be."

"Did you ever meet my mother?"

"No dear. Thirty years ago, I lived here on Gozo and had yet to make my mark in the art world."

"What about Grigory? He—" She searched for the right phrasing. She did not want Juliette to take offense. "He gave me the most uncomfortable look that night."

"I noticed. He was in a terrible mood—I thought it was because the piece that was central to the show was one I'd refused to let him buy—but then he stared at you in a rather intense way and complained about Reuben messing up an important deal."

"What sort of deal?" Rand asked.

Juliette shook her head as she scooped a bite of gelato from her cup. "I have no idea. It's always something between them. Reuben has political ambitions and wants Grigory's support, but Grigory is putting all his political weight behind his own son, who is too young and inexperienced."

"I would imagine an alliance between the two families would be powerful."

Juliette gave her a shrewd look. "Very much so. And I suspect that's why Grigory has dangled your mother's portrait to lure you to his villa."

A slight chill ran up Kira's spine at Juliette's word choice. The woman was Maltese and fluent in both of the country's official languages. She knew all the nuances of English, and the word lure was no mistake.

"Reuben isn't happy I've returned from the dead. Is Grigory?"

"I believe he is pleased. But I'm so curious about that. Is it true you didn't know? All these years?"

Kira looked down into her own bowl of gelato, which was almost empty, as she gauged how to answer. Juliette certainly had her own cards to play in this game with her billionaire consort. This was a fact-gathering mission for her as well, even if she was just the liaison.

She finally looked up and gave a truth that didn't answer the question. "I always knew there was… something . My mother was hiding. She was Russian. I assumed she defected without going through legal channels." She shrugged. "Which, in a way, is the truth."

She touched Juliette's hand. "But I really want to know everything you can tell me about my father…Conrad, I mean."

"I met him around the time Reuben purchased the gallery. Reuben planned a big show to launch and establish himself on the scene here. He hired Conrad to convince several of his connections to either sell or loan a work from their collection to the gallery. Your father's knowledge of—and access to—private collections is unparalleled."

Kira mentally changed the is to was ,but didn't interrupt.

"I think a lot of people were eager to help launch the gallery, because it gave them a chance to show off their favorite works and they got to hobnob with other collectors while drinking Reuben's champagne. A few artists, like me, were given the opportunity to submit works for sale. I had only ever been featured in small galleries at the time. And that night was the first time I sold a piece for over fifty thousand euros."

Now she sold works for three times that and didn't need a billionaire boyfriend to support her. Kira understood why she would choose not to allow Grigory to purchase her most expensive works. She needed her big sales to be attached to a person who wasn't sleeping with her if she was going to be able to continue to command high prices for her art.

"It was your father who instructed Reuben to show my work, and it was there that I met Grigory. When I say I'm thankful to Conrad, I mean it."

Kira's heart squeezed with a blast of grief that for a moment eclipsed the anger. She touched Juliette's arm. "Thank you for sharing that with me."

She needed to return the focus to the oligarchs. The clock was ticking.

"Did Conrad get along with Grigory and Reuben?"

Juliette cocked her head as she considered the question. "I'm not certain he liked Reuben. Conrad was Luka's crony. Grigory is a decade younger than Luka, but, like Luka, he's head of the family, so the two of them were aligned in a way that cut Reuben out, until recently."

"What changed?"

"I'm not sure." She leaned closer. "I'm sure you're aware of Malta's influx of Russian residents. But Luka, he's the elder statesman in that regard, given that he's lived here for half the year for over thirty years. They brought their Russian hierarchy with them, and Russian power in Malta goes through Luka. I've wondered if Reuben is planning his own coup."

"And you think Grigory is backing Reuben against his father?" Rand asked.

She shrugged. "I've said too much." She touched Kira's hand. "But only because it could matter to you if the rumors are true."

"I appreciate it."

"I mean, it doesn't really matter to the rest of us, the power plays of Russians in Malta. They play their little games and strut like they're a big deal. I figure if it stops them from buying and destroying a useful social media network so they can feel important, let them play."

Kira let out a sharp laugh. "Better that they spend their money on art."

Juliette grinned. "My thoughts exactly ."

Much as she wished she could believe Juliette's take that the power games of oligarchs were harmless, Kira knew the truth. These men weren't fighting over who got to be the big man on a small island. The stakes were much higher.

All at once, Juliette's previous statement hit her. "What rumors?"

"Excuse me?"

"You said it could matter to me if the rumors are true. What rumors?"

Juliette's gaze flicked to Rand, and her lips pressed tight.

Kira read her meaning and looked to Rand. She nodded toward the door, asking without words for him to give them a moment.

Rand rose and kissed her forehead before stepping out of the sweet shop.

"He's certainly good-looking, but are you sure you can trust him?" Juliette said.

Kira maintained the very real dreamy look Rand inspired, knowing it would make her seem foolish in the other woman's eyes. At this point, she wanted everyone to underestimate her. Even Rand needed to present a condescending front. Kira was a pawn in everybody's game.

The role worked for her.

"He's fun. Just what I needed for this trip." She let out a happy sigh.

"That good?"

"Better."

Juliette's gaze turned to the window beyond which Rand stood eating his melting treat. "Hmmm."

"Hey, now. He's mine."

"That kind of thing goes both ways."

"Grigory? He's too old for me."

"Age and billions are great equalizers."

"I promise you, I have no interest in your…" Words like boyfriend sounded juvenile for couples in their sixties, and she didn't want to insult Juliette with the wrong term. After an uncomfortable pause, she said, "Partner."

"I suppose that's better than being his mistress, but it implies an equality that doesn't exist in Grigory's world."

"Then why are you with him? You don't need his money."

Juliette nodded toward the window beyond which Rand stood in the Gozo heat. "Why are you with the himbo?"

Kira let out a sharp laugh. The folks back at Little Creek were going to love that. "I'm on vacation, and he's good in bed."

"Well, that's something. As for me…we would have married after his wife died, but his son hates me." She looked up at the ceiling. "In the beginning, the last thing I wanted was marriage. I was glad he had a wife and two children. They spent most of their time in Russia. They were his responsibility. I was his fun."

She shrugged. "But then his daughter died, and his wife and son moved to Gozo full time. She drank to oblivion until one night she drowned in their pool. It might have been an accident. Or it was suicide. I think it was a little of both. But during that time, and every day since, I was no longer his fun. I was his support.

"The idea of marriage no longer chafed. I was his wife in every other way. Why not give me that status legally? My religious upbringing liked the idea. My mother would be so pleased. It bothered me that he allowed his son to decide, instead of me. And for Grigory and his son, it is all about the money. His son, Aleksandr, is his sole heir. Like Reuben. One man, billions and billions of rubles and euros. Aleksandr has no wish to share with a stepmother. Especially not a brown stepmother." She shook her head. "Russians."

She scanned Kira from head to toe. "Men like Grigory usually have mistresses your age. Younger, really. I never thought he would turn out to be like the others, but his interest in you…it bothers me. I've seen his texts with Reuben. He was asking about you before he spotted you on Friday."

"I assure you, I have no interest in Grigory or his money."

"No, but he is interested in yours."

"Mine? I'm an art historian. Practically broke. Besides, I have a boyfriend."

"A very new boyfriend who just so happens to have shown up in Malta right before you find out you could inherit billions. Maybe he saw one of your mother's portraits and worked it out for himself. He's interested in art and was specifically looking into paintings in Malta. Grigory might not be the only one who owns a portrait."

Kira wished they'd thought of that scenario. It had merit.

"Well, he'll be disappointed because I don't want Luka's money any more than I want Grigory's."

"You say that now, but ideals change. Look at me. I was supposed to be his fun. I bust my ass to make enough money on my own so that I'll never need him if— when —he dumps me. If he married me, I could make my art for the love of creating again."

"It's okay to make art for the money." It was one of her pet peeves to hear people say that any kind of creative work should be done for love and not profit.

"Yes. I know. But my heart is with the smaller pieces. The giant glass sculptures—they take a toll to create, but sell for ten times what the smaller pieces go for."

That, Kira understood. But she wasn't here to play therapist to an oligarch's mistress. "Listen, I'm here to learn about my parents. All of them. And my brother. I have a boyfriend, and nothing could make me want to inherit billions of Russian blood money, unless I could end world hunger with it. I don't want anything from Grigory other than to know about my family. What would I want with a man twice my age?"

"With money, you can buy young men to keep you happy."

"My mom had Luka's wealth and gave it up to be with my dad. That's pretty telling as far as the joys of wealth."

"She stole you away in the early days of the collapse. Luka had power and money, but nothing like what he has now."

"Are you trying to convince me to want Grigory? Because I promise you, that's not going to happen."

"No. I just think you haven't really considered your situation. If not Grigory, there will be others. Luka is extremely powerful, and Reuben wants to be even more so. Alignment with them through you…you're about to be the most sought-after Russian heiress since women started claiming to be Anastasia."

"That sounds…horrible."

"Marry your himbo to avoid being sold by your brother."

Kira choked on a laugh, but the last part of Juliette's statement was sobering. "No one is selling me. I'm not a Kulik. I'm a Hanson."

"They don't see it that way."

"It doesn't matter how they see it. I can return to the US tomorrow."

"And with their EU passports, they could easily follow you."

That was highly unlikely now that the Kuliks were on a watch list due to their association with Laskin, but Juliette couldn't know anything about that. She stared at Rand through the window and smiled. "Maybe I should marry the himbo, then."

Nothing about his body language revealed he'd heard, but he was wearing sunglasses and she could imagine his eyes narrowing with promised retribution.

"Make him sign a prenup."

Kira rose from her seat and pitched her empty cup and plastic spoon into the trash. "Poor guy looks like he's melting faster than his cone. Let's go to your gallery and see if you've got anything gorgeous and expensive I can convince him to buy. It will be a good way to find out exactly how deep his pockets are."

T he artwork on display at Laskin's gallery was almost all glass and included inexpensive traditional Gozo glass designs along with pricier works by Juliette and other Maltese glass artists.

Rand made a show of interest in a flower bouquet sculpture that Kira assured him was a bargain at ten thousand euros.

It was a lovely piece, and if the money wouldn't also pay a cut to a man who'd used his wealth to ambush and murder unarmed SEALs on American soil, he would have considered actually buying it as a gift for Kira, who clearly loved the piece.

It was probably good that there was no way he'd give Laskin a dime of his money, because it was far too soon to be considering such an extravagant gift.

But damn, the way Kira's eyes lit when she looked at art that pleased her was mesmerizing. He'd do better to use that ten grand to take her to Italy or France.

His cell phone rang right on schedule, and he slipped away from Kira and Juliette to take the call. He stepped outside to avoid the gallery cameras, which likely didn't have sound but might allow for lip reading.

He stood in the shade of an awning three doors down, watching the street for Laskin, who was on his way to meet them. Sure enough, a large SUV turned onto the busy street and stopped in front of the gallery.

Rand tucked away his phone and approached the gallery entrance just as Grigory Laskin climbed out of the rear seat.

Rand was deep in character, but still it took everything in him to smile at and again shake hands with the man who'd orchestrated the deaths of the other three SEALs on Teague Collins's Fire Team. Chris Flyte had been AOIC of the full team, and he'd been a specific target of the op.

Rand had nothing to do with that training, nor had he been part of the failed rescue of Laskin's daughter, which was why he could give his name and shake his hand without fear, but that didn't make his role easy.

He wasn't a covert operator, and he'd had no idea what he was stepping into when he asked to be allowed to go to Malta. But now that he was in it, he would do everything he could to prevent another attack on his base. Even smile at Laskin and greet him like a friend. He was Kira's sketchy new boyfriend, and he wanted something from the wealthy Russian.

"It's good to meet you again. I was sorry we had to run off yesterday, but Kira wasn't feeling well."

The oligarch gave Rand a sharp look, but didn't comment on the excuse.

They stepped into the gallery. Kira and Juliette were chatting in the corner. Laskin's gaze landed on the two women, his expression unreadable. "Are you hoping to start a bidding war between Reuben and myself? Reuben to pay you to take Kira back to the US and me to pay you to take Kira off your hands?"

"Kira is not mine to sell. Nor is she Kulik's."

"But you will take my money."

He said nothing. Only a fool would admit anything up front, and he might come across as a himbo to Juliette, but Kira wouldn't be with him if he was an obvious dolt.

Kira and Juliette approached. Laskin kissed his mistress on the cheek while Kira tucked herself against Rand. She didn't bother with shaking hands or even smiling at Laskin. Unlike his character, she didn't have an agenda when it came to the billionaire, except to find out about her father.

As if on cue, she said, "Juliette tells me your art collection is quite magnificent. Did my father assist you with any of your purchases?"

"It depends on which father you mean."

"I believe I've made it clear I want nothing from the Kuliks. I certainly don't consider him my father."

"Whether you consider him your father or not, biology is fact."

"I haven't taken a DNA test. While we can be certain of who my mother is and know Reuben is my brother—of whom I have vague but fond memories—any resemblance to him comes from our mother. I have no reason to think Conrad Hanson isn't my biological father."

They'd done the math, and it was possible. Conrad could have been in Germany around the time Kira had been conceived, but even she had acknowledged that was likely to be nothing more than wishful thinking.

Rand figured it was more likely Anna's relationship with Conrad started once the Kuliks began spending months of each year in Malta, as it was here that Anna would have had more freedom than she did in East Germany. Perhaps she even realized she could get her lover's help in escaping her husband. The risk to her would have been too great from behind the Iron Curtain.

He turned to Kira and nodded for them to step aside. He lowered his voice, but not so much that they couldn't be overheard. "I know you wanted to visit the megalithic site today, but that call was from my agent. Late last night, my editor sent comments on the draft I turned in a few weeks ago, and it's a problem. Bad enough for my agent to call me before dawn in New York. I need to read through the editorial letter and come up with a response."

Kira's expression was the picture of crestfallen. "But we're on vacation."

"Technically, it's a research trip for me, and being self-employed, I can't afford to put off my publisher just because I'm out of town. If they don't accept the draft—and that's what this is—they don't have to pay the second half of my advance." He glanced toward the ten-thousand-euro sculpture he'd made a show of wanting. "Until I get this resolved, extravagant purchases are on hold."

While draft rejection was a realistic scenario, he wasn't at risk of that today. He was only a hundred pages into his next book and given his day job, the contract for book three didn't have a set due date yet. But it was a lie urgent enough for him to need to work today and curb spending.

"We should return the boat, then. We could get a hotel for a fraction of the cost."

He shook his head. "I'll be okay. I can fix it. My editor will come around. My laptop has the file, and I have links to all my research materials, but I'll need better Wi-Fi than my cell can offer. My call kept cutting out. Coverage is worse here than it was on Malta, and I'm going to need to Zoom with my agent. Probably have to screen share."

"I can get us a hotel room with Wi-Fi," Kira suggested. She wrinkled her nose. "We really should return the boat."

He leaned his forehead against hers. His voice remained just above a whisper. "It won't change a thing. Because we chartered at the last minute, there's no cancellation window. Two-night minimum, paid up front."

She sighed. "I guess we can get a cheap hotel since we won't be sleeping there. Or maybe go to a coffee shop with free internet?"

"I can't Zoom and talk about my book with my super-secret pen name in a coffeeshop. Even if no one knows who I am, it would be rude to the other customers."

She turned to Juliette, who, along with Laskin, had clearly overheard most, if not all, of their conversation. "Juliette, can you recommend an inexpensive hotel with good Wi-Fi in Victoria? Rand needs to work, and we don't have Wi-Fi on our boat."

"Surely you can still join us for lunch at Grigory's villa so you can see your mother's painting?"

"Another time, maybe," Rand said. "I'm afraid this is urgent."

Kira gave a properly heartbroken look.

"Kira could join us while you work," Laskin said.

"No," Kira said. "Two nights ago, the man who claimed to be my step-cousin assaulted me when I was alone. I escaped, but as far as I know, he's still at large. Add to that, I think Reuben paid Cousin Andre to come after me. I'm just not comfortable going anywhere without Rand. Not even your villa."

Plan A was fully in motion. They had a plan B, but this had a far better chance of success.

Grigory cocked his head. Rand knew the man had an arrangement with Reuben and suspected it involved her being at his villa today. How important was it to Grigory to follow through with their agreement?

They were about to find out.