Chapter 46

Chapter Forty-Six

T hirty minutes later, they were back on the boat. Grigory had called a driver to pick them up in front of the gallery and take them to the boat so Rand could grab his laptop and papers. While they gathered their things, the driver waited in the marina parking lot, ready to take them to Grigory's estate.

Last evening, Kira had laughed upon discovering the plastic document folder she'd noticed after his hotel room had been flooded turned out to be actual notes and printouts of research materials for his work-in-progress—or WIP, as Rand called it. He really did have the perfect cover.

Today, they would use it for all it was worth.

He'd made all the necessary arrangements before they went to bed last night, including arranging for a Zoom meeting with his "agent," who was being played by Valkyrie Victoria Graves. Vicki had jumped at the chance to play agent because she was an avid thriller reader and had read both of Reece Foresman's books. She'd seen the dedication a month ago and had immediately known Rand was Reece, but didn't out him, not even to her bosses, who were his close friends. But most important, she knew the world Rand had built and could talk about it with ease.

Last night, Rand had reached out to a thriller author friend who understood the seriousness of the situation, but not what the situation was and got the man to write a suitably dire editorial letter to give Rand and Vicki something to work with.

Because Reece Foresman's agent was a matter of public record, Freya ensured that the fake agent's IP address would ping the right location even though Vicki was in FMV's offices in Virginia and not Manhattan, where his real agent lived and worked.

After learning that Rand was secretly an author, Freya admitted to being disgruntled at not having discovered his secret on her own. He'd grinned and said, "Frey, you were the person I kept in mind as I set up my secret identity. I knew if I could hide it from you, I was bulletproof."

Kira figured that mollified Freya's ego a bit. On the flip side, Freya admitted Vicki had earned even more of her respect for keeping the secret.

Kira took a deep breath before sliding back into the backseat of one of Grigory's many vehicles. A strange calmness settled over her. For the first time since she'd boarded her flight, she knew what she was walking into ahead of time.

She didn't know what they would find out, but this wasn't about her or her secret history. This was about two Russian oligarchs seeking power and revenge. The drive to Laskin's estate took another thirty minutes, and at last, it was go time.

Laskin's villa was modern—likely built in the last decade—complete with an infinity pool and architecture that was more Beverly Hills mansion than Maltese villa.

Inside, Juliette greeted them as mistress of the manor, and Kira wondered if that was generally true. She had her own apartment in Victoria and maintained her own finances, but did she live with Grigory most of the time?

Would she stand by her man if she learned what he'd done and was trying to do?

Did she know already?

Rand agreed to join them for lunch prepared by Grigory's chef before escaping into the office he'd use to go through his edit letter with his agent on Zoom.

He was appropriately itchy to get to work and declined the sangria cocktail he was offered. Kira figured she had to drink, at least a little, to maintain her role. The maid filled all glasses from the same pitcher, so at least she knew she wasn't being drugged.

Rand's gaze lingered on the young woman as she poured, and Kira wondered if she was Nadia. She'd checked in during the brief time they'd returned to the boat, and Collins still hadn't been able to reach the girl.

The meal was a delicious paella to go with the sangria, and any other time, Kira would be in heaven eating authentic food prepared by a talented chef. Instead, she was as anxious as Rand to get to work. She had a job that was almost as important as his.

The same young woman served the food. She beamed at Rand when he smiled at her and Kira felt a rush of irritation even knowing he was playing a role.

Himbo indeed.

The girl topped off Kira's barely touched sangria and bumped the glass, causing the red liquid to splash onto Kira's brand-new white sundress. She let out a soft gasp and a very real pained "No!"

The girl smirked before her face transformed into an alarmed expression. "I'm so sorry, ma'am!"

Kira grimaced as she blotted at the stain that covered her right breast with her cloth napkin. "Where can I find a bathroom so I can rinse this out?"

"Nadia, take Dr. Hanson to get cleaned up." The instruction came from Grigory.

At least she had confirmation of the girl's name. But why had the young woman ruined Kira's dress on purpose? No way had she imagined that smirk. Plus, her drink hadn't needed topping off.

The girl bowed her head and said, "Follow me."

She said nothing as she led Kira down one long hall after another. At last, they reached a bathroom that couldn't possibly be the one closest to the dining room. Not that Kira minded. Seeing more of the house was just what she wanted.

Still, it was odd.

The girl smirked again as she opened the door, and Kira realized why. This wasn't a guest bathroom. She'd been taken through the servant corridor to their bathroom. Not that Kira cared. A toilet was a toilet.

Inside, Kira locked the door, then tapped the latch release on her watch pendant to turn off the camera. She studied the stain, which was really quite spectacular, before deciding it was a total loss and would be better to have the irregular blotch across one breast than to take off the dress and soak the bodice.

But damn, she'd loved this dress for the few hours she got to wear it.

She pulled out her cell phone and texted Freya.

Kira

What's up with Nadia?

Freya

Collins made contact. It seems everyone misunderstood Grigory's plans for you. He doesn't want you for himself, he wants you for Aleksandr. Nadia is not happy.

Just what I need, another oligarch wanting to control me.

You're very popular these days. But I think you should stick with the himbo.

Kira laughed and deleted the conversation. She used the facilities, then blotted at the stain with a damp towel. After taking a deep breath, she turned the camera back on, then left the bathroom. She was tempted to explore while she had the chance, but she knew Rand wouldn't leave to start his work until after her return, and that was the priority today.

She could explore later.

She returned to the table to receive apologies from her hosts and another apology from Nadia, whose face was red and angry. It was clear she'd been chastened, whether it had been delivered by her boss or other staff, she didn't know.

She was a beautiful young woman with a lifetime ahead of her, but at any moment, she could be sent back to Russia if Laskin or his son tired of her. It wasn't a wonder why she'd fixated on marrying the heir, but she had to know her odds were slim to none. Even if Aleksandr loved her, he wouldn't squander his ability to gain power and more wealth by marrying a servant.

Much like Grigory wouldn't marry Juliette.

At least Juliette understood the game and took care of her own needs. Protecting her financial stability so she wouldn't be dependent on her lover if he chose to marry again.

Nadia's situation was much more precarious. The daughter who'd been her best friend in spite of her status as servant had died. Her father had fled. She could be cast off any moment.

Kira couldn't help but feel sorry for her.

Rand reached for her hand under the table and squeezed. She wished she could tell him what she'd learned from Freya, but he'd find out soon enough. She took a sip from her new glass of sangria and wished she could indulge, as it was the best sangria she'd ever had.

Maybe when she got home, she'd dye the entire dress sangria red. It would be a souvenir, of sorts.

Conversation was light. Rand talked about his work as a trainer at a gym, saying he'd finally quit that day job upon turning in the third book to his editor, which had coincided with the release of his second novel last month. He was convincing.

Freya had made sure book review websites and online vendors populated with this slight tweak to Reece Foresman's bio. Laskin didn't have Rand's pseudonym yet, but it was only a matter of time before he got it. Literally, it could be counted in minutes as they all knew the moment he logged in on the Wi-Fi, they'd monitor his communication.

Rand flashed a grin and glanced around the dining room, which had original art on the walls as they ate from fine china using sterling silver utensils. "If my meeting with my agent doesn't go well…I don't suppose you're in the market for a personal trainer?"

His said it with just the right amount of humor that could hide the underlying plea.

Grigory gave an appropriate laugh. "I'm not, but my son is in need of someone to make a man out of him. Can you do that?"

Kira hid her grimace. What a delightful thing for a father to say.

Rand gave a diplomatic response. "Physical training for bodybuilding only works when the client is personally motivated."

Juliette flashed a smile. She was seated across from Rand, and her gaze traveled down his face and torso, landing on his forearms which were exposed thanks to the short-sleeved Aloha shirt. "You must be very motivated."

Kira snickered. "His motivation is quite admirable."

Grigory frowned.

Juliette patted his hand. "Teasing, dear."

She wasn't sure if he was mollified, but to Rand he said, "Talk to him. Your physique will show him what's possible."

"Is your son here?" Kira asked.

"Yes. He just returned from Russia this morning. He's eager to meet you, Kira."

Yeah, I bet he is.

She furrowed her brow and inserted confusion into her tone. "Why would he know or care about me?"

Grigory gave an enigmatic smile. "I believe your mother's painting intrigues him."

That was a bit creepy, actually.

Rand rose from his seat. "Thank you for the delicious lunch. The sooner I get to work, the sooner I'll be free to enjoy the afternoon with Kira. When I'm done, I can take a look at your gym and talk to your son about his routine if he wants, as a thank you for the meal and letting me use your office."

Grigory nodded toward a servant who stood in the corner, waiting to serve. "Show Mr. Fallon to the conference room."

Rand bent down and pressed his mouth to Kira's, giving her a long, lingering kiss that was entirely inappropriate, but perfect for laying claim. He'd understood the subtext about Aleksandr.

Good.

He then left the room, following the servant down the corridor in the opposite direction from where Nadia had led Kira earlier.

Alone with Grigory and Juliette, not even a servant to overhear, the oligarch studied her. "He really is an author?"

She rolled her eyes. "You were a fool to listen to Reuben. Of course he's an author. I've spent my career vetting provenance, and I know how to spot a fraud. That includes clients and potential dates."

"You aren't bothered he followed you to Malta?"

"I'm not convinced it wasn't a coincidence."

"According to Reuben, he didn't contact the gallery to ask about the reception until hours before his arrival."

"Yes, his trip was last minute when plans to meet with a friend to hike in Portugal fell through—the friend fell off a ladder and broke his knee. He reached out to Gillibrand—the auction house we worked with last year—to ask about art in Malta and learned of the reception." She rose from her seat. "Besides, I don't see how it's any of your business even if he did set up our surprise meeting. If I'm fine with it, what's your problem?"

"Your father has billions."

"My father is dead. I inherited his house and life savings. He had thousands."

"Reuben thinks you're here to claim your birthright."

"So I'm Daenerys Targaryen now?" She rolled her eyes. "I have no birthright . The only thing I want—from Reuben, or even you—is to see the art my father brokered for you. To understand how and why he hid that part of his life from me."

"I think that's obvious at this point."

"Perhaps the why, but not the how. As I mentioned, he was worth thousands. In the mid-six-figures range, but that's not accounting for brokering foreign art deals. So maybe I am here for the money. But money that's legally mine as his sole heir. Did my father have a bank account here in Malta?" She crossed her arms. "I can't imagine he would hide his money in Russia."

Grigory's smile was almost feral. Good. This was something he could believe.

"So little Miss Innocent is here for the money after all."

She could remind him that she didn't know about the art brokering until Juliette mentioned it on Friday night, but that would undermine her purpose now.

She waved toward the arched doorway. "Take me to your art room where you've got my mother's painting and, I'm sure, an extensive collection of Nazi-stolen art."