The Prince's Gamble

by Caridad Piñeiro

  At her hesitation, he dragged a hand through his hair, mumbled something in Russian that decidedly had the tone of a curse, then braced his hands on his desk. “You know what’s at stake here, Tatiana. A woman’s life. Nothing is more important than that, so is there anything else you have to say?”

  She shook her head with such force it sent the long, midnight waves shifting from side to side. “Nothing, Alexander. I just don’t want to think she’s involved if something bad is going on.”

  Kathleen believed her. There was no guile in the young woman as far as she could see. But she would have to keep a close eye on her, much as she intended to do with her brother, although his vehemence just now had shocked her. If she didn’t know better, she could actually believe that he truly cared about the hostess.

  “I appreciate you offering us that information, Princess.”

  “Tatiana, please. I’m not as formally uptight as my brother,” she said with a roll of her pretty eyes and a return of some of her earlier playfulness.

  Kathleen controlled the chuckle which threatened to erupt. “I appreciate that, Tatiana. If you can think of anything else, please let me know.” She handed her card to the princess.

  “I guess it’s time to call it a night,” Ivanov said.

  “I guess so,” she replied. But as she left the room, Jim, Tatiana, and Ivanov remained behind. He obviously was not finished with his sister.

  She was certain the prince would be reading her the riot act, and Kathleen pitied the young woman.

  With a grimace, she boarded the elevator and punched the button for the main gaming floor.

  Ivanov struck her as the kind of man you didn’t want to piss off, but in some perverse way, she actually looked forward to doing just that. Maybe because it kept away her other, more unwelcome thoughts about the prince…

  And the unbidden images that kept popping up in her mind at the most inappropriate times. Making her body react in a most inappropriate way.

  Chapter Four

  Kathleen spotted the woman the moment the stylish female sashayed into the lobby.

  Dressed in a black evening gown that showed off every lethal feminine asset, the woman screamed elegance, but Kathleen’s radar had gone off. Maybe it was the not so relaxed way she moved, as if she was uncomfortable with what she wore. Or the nervous way her gaze darted from spot to spot along the casino floor.

  Was she expecting someone to be following her?

  Kathleen did just that, careful to stay out of the woman’s line of sight. She stopped to drop a coin at a slot machine when the woman paused and rose on tiptoes to peer into one of the special areas reserved for the top tier customers in the casino. From the corner of her eye, Kathleen glimpsed movement. Less than a minute later, a middle-aged man joined the woman. He placed his right hand possessively on her waist and twined the fingers of his left hand with hers. The gleaming band of gold on his ring finger and the tell-tale absence on hers might explain why the woman had seemed nervous.

  Since an adulterous husband was not her problem, Kathleen once again resumed her surveillance, keeping a watchful eye, but registered nothing out of the ordinary. For good measure, she even rode the escalator to the start of the hotel rooms for a bird’s eye view of the various casino floors, and then back down to the restaurant level.

  Ivanov had named the restaurant the Winter Palace. The establishment was unmistakably intended for luxury dining, unlike the coffee shop and food court on the main floor. Even at this late hour, the restaurant had an almost full house.

  She positioned herself at a video poker machine, deposited some cash, and slowly played one hand after another while watching the traffic in the restaurant. The information Jim had provided had indicated that Vanessa had been on duty around this time when something or someone had freaked her out. Although it was a long shot, maybe whatever had caused the hostess’s upset would happen again.

  After about an hour, however, fewer and fewer patrons remained in the Winter Palace and those who did weren’t sending off any signals.

  Since there was less activity, it would be a good time to head over and question the staff. Let them know that she was a new member of the security department who would be around, monitoring that things went smoothly. That would allow her to gather the information she needed for the investigation.

  At the hostess podium, she introduced herself to the attractive young woman temporarily handling the position, and then said, “Prince Alexander wanted me to ask some questions about Vanessa. Try and find out why she hasn’t returned to work.”

  The woman shook her head. “I’m usually on the day shift. I’m just filling in.” She glanced back in the direction of the waitresses and pointed out one. “You should ask Nancy. She and Vanessa usually work together.”

  “Thanks,” she said with a nod, and strolled over to the older woman, still scanning the restaurant as she did so, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

  She approached Nancy while she was at a prep area, shoveling pre-made salad onto chilled plates. Nancy looked at her as she approached.

  “Cop?” she asked, surprising her with her astuteness.

  “If being on the security staff counts, I guess I am.”

  Nancy nodded. “You’re here about Vanessa.”

  “You were working with her that night?”

  Nancy spoke while she loaded a serving tray with the salads, salad dressings, butter, and a bread bowl. “I was. Something spooked her about halfway through the shift. I couldn’t tell what, but she was freaked out. I’d never seen Vanessa act like that.”

  “She could take care of herself, generally?”

  With an emphatic nod, Nancy said, “She’s gorgeous, so she had her share of men come on to her. Especially when they were feeling their oats after winning big. But she knew how to handle them. Always classy, too.”

  Nancy swung the tray onto her shoulder and added, “I’ll be back in a second.”

  The waitress hurried away and plastered a smile on her face as she served her table, but it had been impossible not to sense her worry over her friend. That concern was doubly evident from the frown lines etched around her mouth when she returned.

  “Do you think that it was a person who spooked her? Someone who was here in the restaurant?”

  Nancy nodded. “I think so. She had taken her break and was fine, but then bam.” The waitress emphasized the word by smashing a fist into the palm of her hand. “She was terrified.”

  “Did you notice anything out of place? Anyone new?”

  Nancy shook her head. “Nothing. But it’s a big place and I remember we were busy that night, so I didn’t really have time to think about it much. Maybe I should have.”

  Kathleen understood the guilt. She’d experienced it more than once when things had gone wrong on a case. “Don’t second guess yourself, Nancy. But if you think of anything else, call down to security and have them patch you through to me.”

  With a quick nod, the woman returned to her duties and Kathleen hurried from the restaurant, not wanting to call too much attention to herself.

  After another stroll around that level, the long day and longer night dragged at her as did the noise in the casino. Everywhere she went there were the sounds of the slot machines, the gaming tables, and patrons excitedly sharing either wins or losses. Her throat was scratchy from the cigarette smoke wafting from the limited areas where it was permitted. Even in such small quantities it managed to annoy and make everything smelly. She worked her way to the private elevator, used her key, and rode to the penthouse floor. When she exited, she was surprised to see that although the lights were off in the anteroom to Ivanov’s office, a desk lamp cast soft light on the man himself as he sat at his desk in near darkness.

  He was on the phone, his eyes closed as he spoke. A grimace marred his handsome features for a moment before he impatiently raked his fingers through his hair, tousling the thick ebony waves from their earlier perfect styling.

  The muted
sound of his voice carried into the hallway. “I know, Mrs. Wilson. I’m worried, too, but we have good people working on finding Vanessa.”

  Drawn by the troubled note in his voice and the almost weary slump in his shoulders, she walked forward until she was standing before him. He slowly opened his eyes as he sensed her presence. It was impossible to miss the fatigue and concern that darkened the ice blue of his irises to the slate color of a storm at sea.

  His unknotted tie lay against the pristine white of his shirt, which was finally showing a few wrinkles. He’d undone the first few buttons, displaying an enticing vee of tanned skin, chest hair, and lean muscle.

  “I promise I will call as soon as we know something more.” An unintelligible murmur came from the headset before he finished with, “Don’t lose hope. We’ll find her.”

  When he disconnected, he scrubbed his face with his hands before settling his elbows on the arms of the chair, and lacing his fingers together across his flat midsection. “If you’re wondering, I didn’t ask her about Vanessa’s earlier run-in with the law. I just didn’t think it was the right time.”

  Considering how important his business was to him, it both surprised and pleased her that he hadn’t asked about Vanessa’s juvie record. The question would have certainly heaped more misery on her mother at an already difficult moment. “Hopefully we’ll be able to get more on that in the morning from my office,” she offered.

  He gestured to the visitor’s chair before the desk, inviting her to sit. She demurred. “I really should get going. It’s late and I hadn’t planned to come here.”

  “But since the door was open you figured why not eavesdrop?”

  She couldn’t ignore the bite in his words and battled the rise of her own temper.

  “You looked like you could you use a friend,” she replied in her own defense, although she didn’t know why she really cared about his opinion of her. She told herself he’d done nothing to earn her concern, and yet his actions during dinner and with his sister had shown her a very different man than the one she had been expecting.

  He laughed harshly and shot out of the chair. His long strides ate up the distance to a small bar at one side of his office, where he snagged a decanter and raised it. “Care for some wine?”

  “Thanks, but not while I’m on the job.”

  That acerbic laugh came again before he stalked back over, full glass in hand, and leaned against the edge of the desk, just to the left of her.

  “Are you ever not on the job, Special Agent?”

  His words shouldn’t have stung and yet they did. Since transferring to the FBI office covering Atlantic City, she’d had little freedom for personal pursuits. She’d hoped that in time things would settle down and her New York friends could join her for some fun, but so far it hadn’t happened.

  “If you’re asking if I’m married to my job, the answer is no.”

  “I don’t see a ring, so I guess there’s no Mr. Martinez, but what does your lover think of your long hours?”

  “Lover?” His choice of words threw her and she wondered if it was a language thing. Although Ivanov had been schooled in mostly American institutions, his native languages were French and Russian.

  He leaned toward her, almost as if to kiss her, and in a soft, very sexy whisper, he said, “It would be a shame for a woman as beautiful as you not to have a lover.”

  She blinked. This couldn’t be a come on. There was no way a man like Ivanov would be interested in a woman like her. And although his words brought an unbidden wave of heat and desire, she had no interest in a man like Ivanov, either. Their worlds couldn’t be any farther apart. Not to mention that he was a possible suspect. And especially considering what had happened two years earlier.

  “What about you, Alexander?” she said, almost purring the name in payback. She was being rude and impertinent, since he hadn’t invited her to use his given name, but she figured his remark warranted some kind of payback. “Do you have a lover tucked away somewhere?”

  A man as incredibly handsome as the prince must have his pick of women eager to share his bed.

  His eyes brightened to the color of sapphires as his gaze met hers, without guile or pretense. Spreading his arms wide, indicating the whole property, he replied, “This is my mistress. I’ve no time for any other. I made a promise to myself to make a success of it, for the people of Atlantic City and for my family, especially Tatiana.”

  She understood the first part. She’d read the comments he’d made after Hurricane Sandy and the way he had worked on the city’s recovery in the time since. But she wasn’t getting the latter. “What does the casino have to do with your sister?”

  …

  Alexander took a sip of his wine and considered the beautiful but prickly FBI agent over the rim of the glass. He wondered if he could trust her with anything personal. He was even more guarded when it concerned his sister. But he supposed Special Agent Martinez was in the same boat, wondering if she could trust him. The FBI would surely have him pegged as a suspect for the moment, and although that rankled, he understood the reason for it.

  Deciding that trust had to start somewhere, he answered. “My parents are rather traditional. They wanted Tatiana to return home, find a proper husband, and start spitting out the next generation of Ivanovs.”

  She smiled and chuckled. “Based on my first impressions of your sister, Prince Alexander, that is far removed from what she would want.”

  “Alexander, please. Despite what my sister believes,” he said dryly, “I would prefer to dispense with formalities. Is that all right with you, Special Agent Martinez?”

  She inclined her head. “Of course. Call me Kathleen.”

  “Thank you.” Alexander smiled, and took another sip of wine. “As I was saying, Tatiana wanted to stay in the States and earn her degree. Maybe find a job here, and more important, pick her own husband.”

  Kathleen mimicked his earlier gesture, spreading her arms wide and gazing all around his domain. “So this was your way of keeping her here?”

  He threw his head back and laughed out loud. “No one keeps Tatiana. She is as you implied, a free spirit. But, the casino does give her the freedom to go to school nearby, where I can make sure she’s okay. That satisfies my parents for the moment.”

  Kathleen eyed him carefully. “It seems to me that given how much older you are—”

  “Ouch. I guess I should go get my cane.”

  She grinned. He enjoyed how her smile transformed her face, bringing a mischievous gleam to her changeling-colored eyes.

  “Well, you are almost thirty. I bet your parents have been bugging you for the next generation for some time.”

  “Incessantly,” Alexander quickly admitted. “My mother has been trying to match me with one princess or another for years. But like my sister, I’ve grown too American.”

  Kathleen tipped her head. “An odd choice of words. What does that mean to you? Being American?”

  He looked away, almost absentmindedly glanced around his office as he thought about it. After a last sip of wine, he set the glass aside and casually braced his hands on the edge of his desk. “It means that while I honor my heritage and traditions, I want to be valued for who I am and not for my ancestors. It means that I want to be free to make my own choices in life.”

  She nodded thoughtfully. “And to do that, Russian Nights has to continue to be successful. I guess that means you’ll stop at nothing to have this casino turn a profit.”

  His back went rigid, obliterating his earlier relaxed posture. “You make me sound so ruthless.”

  “I’d rather say determined. But I’m just as determined to find out what’s going here, Alexander,” she said, saying his name in a soft, conciliatory tone. But he sensed the steel behind the words. She wouldn’t believe him if he told her so, but he was extremely grateful for that steel. He wanted answers to what was happening in his casino just as badly as she did. It had taken too much to build his business from scratch a
nd then save it after the storm for him to lose it now.

  “I know I’m a suspect,” he said. “I understand why, Kathleen. I just hope that in time you’ll come to trust me.”

  “In time. Maybe,” she offered.

  The look on her face said it would take quite a lot to make her believe he was actually the good guy here. Even more for her to take him off her list of suspects.

  As for anything more personal… Well, he was more used to dealing with flighty, flirty princesses than a woman whose most prized fashion accessory seemed to be the ankle holster for her spare weapon.

  But he was intrigued.

  Oh, yes. He was definitely intrigued.

  Chapter Five

  Kathleen padded past the bed, noting that the big fluffy covers had been turned down in her absence, but she ignored just how comfortable and inviting it looked.

  She still had work to do.

  She yanked her laptop from her briefcase, grabbed the thumb drive from her jacket pocket, and was getting settled at the desk when a discreet knock came at her door.

  Tightening the belt on her robe, she strode to the door and peered through the peephole. A uniformed maid waited there. She opened her door for the woman.

  “Prince Alexander thought you might find these useful,” the maid said and bustled into the room with a lap desk under her arm as well as a room service cart bearing an assortment of cookies, a carafe, a delicate china set, and an ornate silver chest filled with high-end teas.

  The maid placed the lap desk on the king-sized bed and faced Kathleen. “Where would you like your tea, miss?”

  Not wanting to make too much fuss, she said, “By the wing chair is fine.”

  Efficiently, the maid laid out the tea service on a bistro-sized table. Kathleen scrounged through the jacket she had tossed on a chair for a tip, but the maid waved her off.

  “Prince Alexander has taken care of everything.”

  “Thank you,” she offered, and experienced a host of mixed feelings yet again.