Financial power.
His fund, the decisions he made, influenced banks, markets, and people. Especially people who were heavily invested in all kinds of financial dealings…
Kaz caught his breath..
Was it possible…? Could he find what he needed if he dug deep enough? There were rumors, but…
He rushed to his desk. Turned on his computer, Googled Gregor Rostov, scribbled down some notes. Then he went to a site he’d used during the couple of years he’d worked for Zach at Shadow.
One long, deep breath.
Kaz typed in his user name. His password. It had been a long time…
The site opened.
Kaz pumped his fist in the air.
And set to work.
* * * *
The gray light of dawn was just touching the room by the time he’d finished.
He had one last thing to do before going upstairs to Katie.
Zach had left a message. A pair of first-class tickets waited for him at the Air Sardovia counter at Kennedy International Airport.
Right. Like he would take this journey with his Katie on a plane crowded with strangers.
He canceled the tickets. Then he phoned the private air service he always used and told them what he needed.
After that, all that remained was to pack.
And to make love to Katie for what he knew might be the one last time.
He went up the stairs and climbed into bed carefully, not wanting to wake her before he absolutely had to, but as soon as he started to draw her back against him, she turned in his arms.
“Sweetheart,” he whispered.
She smiled. But there were tears in her eyes. And fear. And something else.
Love.
His heart swelled.
She loved him. He was sure of it. God knew that he loved her. He wanted to tell her that, to hear her say the words to him, but what if his plan failed? To give them both such hope and then watch it all come to nothing…
And, sweet Jesus, it could fail. He was pinning everything on a half-cooked scheme.
“Katie,” he said fiercely, “it isn’t too late. Call your father. Tell him—”
She kissed him, and he tasted the salt of her tears.
“Whatever happens,” she said softly, “I will always have these days to remember.”
Kaz framed her face with his hands. “I’m not giving up,” he said. “I can’t tell you more than that, but… Will you trust me, sweetheart?”
“I would trust you with my life, Kazimir.” She hesitated. “As I have already trusted you with my heart.”
His mouth captured hers, and then he was inside her.
And, just for a little while, the world went away.
CHAPTER TEN
At midday, they boarded a sleek Gulfstream 500 that would carry them, non-stop, from New York to Mardonsk, the capital city of Sardovia.
The jet was luxurious; the crew knew him and had everything waiting just as he preferred it. The wine. The food. Even the kind of coffee that was his favorite.
Katie said a polite “No, thank you” to everything the flight attendant offered.
“Eat something,” Kaz pleaded, and she finally agreed to scrambled eggs and toast. He ordered the same thing, but neither of them could choke down more than a couple of mouthfuls.
Eventually, he asked the attendant to dim the lights.
Then he drew Katie into his arms and held her, whispered to her until, finally, she fell into a restless sleep.
Fool, he told himself.
He should never have listened to her when she’d insisted that she could not disappoint her mother. What if his plan failed? Plan? It was more the desperate scheme of a desperate man and what he should have done, instead of wasting time, was to have—was to have…
What?
Lock her up? Take her to the top of a high mountain and refuse to let her leave?
“Katie,” he whispered, and she sighed in her sleep as he pressed his lips to her temple and gave voice to the words that were in his heart. “Katie. Ekaterina. I love you.”
* * * *
He had not sent word of their arrival time, but in accordance with international flight rules, the Gulfstream pilot had alerted the airport at Mardonsk well in advance.
Katie clutched Kaz’s hand as the plane touched down.
“They’re waiting for us,” she said in a choked whisper.
They were.
An entire delegation. Long black limousines disgorged a dozen dignitaries. The minister of state. The minister of culture. Secretaries and under-secretaries. An honor guard stood at stiff attention.
And Gregor Rostov.
Rostov stepped forward and took his daughter’s arm.
“You have done what was asked of you,” he said to Kaz. “We have no further need of your presence.”
Kaz moved to within inches of the man. His face was as hard as if it had been chiseled from stone.
“You will come to my rooms in one hour,” he told Rostov.
Rostov laughed. “Do you think I will take orders from you?”
“Lighthorse Investments,” Kaz said, very, very softly. “Waterside Funding Company. Sardovia Gold Mines, Incorporated. You hold large stakes in them all.”
Rostov went a little pale. “What is your point, Savitch?”
“My point,” Kaz said, “is that you will appear in my rooms in one hour, or the investors in those companies are in for some distressing news.”
He turned to Katie, threaded his hands into her hair, lifted her face to his and kissed her. She hesitated, but only for a heartbeat. Then she put her arms around his neck and kissed him back.
Rostov said something ugly.
The crowd of dignitaries gasped.
“I love you,” Kaz said softly.
He knew that he would never forget the look on Katie’s face.
“I will never forget you, Kazimir,” she whispered.
One last, sweet kiss. Then Kaz turned to the minister of state and said, “Take me to the king.”
Was that a smile on the minister’s normally-stern lips?
No. After all, what was there to smile about?
Katie was weeping. Kaz caught one of her tears on the tip of his finger and brought it to his lips.
Then he followed the minister to the big black Bentley that awaited them.
* * * *
To Kaz’s surprise, the king met him not in the throne room but in the small, far less formal chamber that adjoined it.
Except for a guard in ceremonial dress who stood stiffly at the doors to the throne room, the king was alone, seated at the head of a rectangular table.
He motioned Kaz to the chair beside his.
“Kazimir. How was your flight?”
“Grandfather. Let’s not waste time.” Kaz settled into the chair and looked at the king. “Your plans for Ekaterina must be changed.”
The old man’s bushy white eyebrows rose.
“This is the twenty-first century,” Kaz said. “Marriages are not arranged by kings or councils.”
“What about parents? It is the Rostovs who proposed this alliance, Kazimir. We thought about it, considered it—”
“And decided it was appropriate. Well, it is not. Katie was not—”
“Katie,” the king said with a faint smile.
“Exactly. Katie was not consulted.”
The king shrugged. “That is a secondary issue.”
“It is the only issue,” Kaz said, shoving back his chair and shooting to his feet. “And, for your information, Grandfather, it was not both the Rostovs who came up with this idea; it was only Gregor. His wife, Katie’s mother, is terminally ill. Rostov made this sound like a dream match. He knew that she’d approve if he did, and that she would make its fulfillment her dying wish.” He leaned over the table, slapped his hands against the gleaming surface and looked into the king’s eyes. “We both know it isn’t a dream match. We know what Dmitri is like. He gambles, he drinks,
he whores. He is my father all over again.”
The king folded his arms.
“Go on, Kazimir. You have more to say? Say it.”
“Free Ekaterina Rostov from the obligation you have put upon her. Tell Rostov you have withdrawn your blessing from this union.”
“And?”
“And, what?”
“And, if I do, what becomes of her mother? A dying wish, you said.”
“Her wish is to see her daughter safely wed to a man who will take care of her, love her, provide for her.”
“But if she does not marry your uncle—”
“She will marry me.”
The king’s face was expressionless.
“You would make this sacrifice to save the girl?”
Kaz took a deep breath.
“I would make no sacrifice, Grandfather. I love her. And I have every reason to believe that she loves me.”
Silence descended over the room. Then, slowly, the king rose to his feet.
“And if I do not agree to this?”
Kaz’s face hardened. “Gregor Rostov is to meet me in ten minutes. I will tell him that he must withdraw from the agreement he has made with you.”
“It is not wise to withdraw from agreements one has made with a king.”
“It is less wise to anger a man who knows your darkest financial secrets, Grandfather, especially when that man is willing and able to advise three boards of directors that one of their major shareholders is scheming to make hostile takeovers of their companies.”
“You are completely serious about wanting this woman.”
“I am completely serious about being in love with her. If you handle this with some care, Rostov will be able to consider himself as a winner. His fortune will remain intact. His daughter will be married to a man of whom you and the council approve. His wife will be happy to see her comfortably wed. Not to your heir, no, but to a man of some influence, some power—”
“You are wrong, Grandson.”
“I am right! If you will only listen—”
The king put his hand on Kaz’s shoulder.
“You are wrong about what Rostov’s wife will see.” His voice softened. “Ekaterina Rostov will marry my heir.” He paused, and a real smile curved his mouth. “You, Kazimir. You are my heir.”
Kaz knew he had faults, but being speechless had never been one of them. He stared at his grandfather and, after what seemed an eternity, he finally said, “What?”
“The council and I have known for a very long time that your uncle—my only remaining son— is not fit to lead our people.” The old man’s eyes darkened. “It was a painful thing to admit, that I sired two sons and that neither grew to become the right kind of man.”
“You’ve known this for a very long time? Then, why—”
“We are an old, even an ancient people, my grandson. We abound in legends, things you would say are foolish remnants of the past.” He smiled. “Had you been born here, you would have grown up on stories of knights and dragons, of men of honor who had to perform impossible tasks before winning their castles and kingdoms. And their princesses.”
Kaz shook his head in bewilderment. “I don’t understand.”
“The council agreed that you are a genius when it comes to numbers and business, but it had its doubts about how you would deal with things that are not so logical. A king must be like Solomon. He must make wise decisions even when wise decisions seem impossible. He must be willing to stand up for what he believes to be right, no matter what the cost.”
“Let me get this straight,” Kaz said slowly. “You never intended to marry Katie to Dmitri.”
“Start by saying that we never intended that Dmitri be the next king. Not for the past several years, at any rate. And then, no, we did not intend to see Ekaterina marry him. I must be honest, Kazimir, and tell you that that it had less to do with concern for her than with our knowing that her father was not a man we wanted so close to the Sardovian throne.”
“If I someday sit on that throne, Rostov will still be Katie’s father.”
“You will someday sit on that throne, and will he have any influence over you?”
Kaz laughed. So did the king.
“So,” the king said, clapping him on the back, “what is that old saying? ‘All’s well that ends well.’”
“It’s a line from a play.”
“Yes. And there’s that other line, too. How does it go? ‘All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players.’”
“You planned this entire thing,” Kaz said softly. “Putting Katie into my care—”
His grandfather shrugged.
“Did Zach know?”
“Who?” his grandfather said, but there was a twinkle in his eye. “Merry Christmas, Kazimir,” he said. “It is never easy, determining what to give one’s grandson as a gift.”
Kaz stared at him. Then, slowly, he began to grin.
“Grandfather. You’re an interesting piece of work.”
“A line from a play?”
“An American idiom. It means that I may have misjudged you.”
The king laughed as he linked his arm through Kaz’s and they started toward the doors that led to the throne room.
“Wait,” Kaz said.
“It’s Christmas Eve, Kazimir. A banquet awaits us.”
“I have to see Katie.”
“And you will, but surely—”
“I have to see her now. She’s the most important thing in my life. And she’s going through hell.”
“You are going to be a strong-minded ruler, Grandson,” the king said, smiling as he nodded to the guard who clicked his heels, stepped forward, and flung open the doors to the throne room.
The huge space was crowded with people. Music was playing; servers bore trays of canapés and glasses of champagne. An enormous Christmas tree, aglow with lights, stood in one corner with gifts heaped beneath it.
But all Kaz really saw was Ekaterina.
His Katie.
She was wearing the midnight-blue gown with the narrow red ribbon that she had worn the evening before.
Later, she would tell Kaz that she had refused to put on the gown that had been presented to her. This one last time, she’d been determined to dress as she knew Kaz would remember her.
Kaz. Her lover. The man she loved.
Her face was pale, but when she saw him, her eyes lit.
“Kazimir,” she said softly. “I asked if I could see you one last—”
He went straight through the crowd to her, swept her into his arms and kissed her, kissed her right there, in front of everyone, kissed her and kissed her until she forgot the room, the crowd, even what lay ahead.
She forgot everything but Kaz.
At last, he took his lips from hers.
“Katie? Sweetheart, do you remember that I asked you to trust me?”
Katie nodded. Kaz could see the first glimmer of hope in her eyes.
“I am the heir to the Sardovian throne,” he said softly. “And you are going to marry me.” He paused. “That is, you will marry me if you love me, if you want to spend the rest of your life with me, because I love you, I adore you, I need you now and forever—”
Ekaterina Rostov laughed. She cried. She rose on her toes and pressed her lips to those of the man who would be her husband.
And, of course, they lived happily ever after.
THE END
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The Gift: A Novella Page 7
