by Alexia Adams
“Yes, yes.” The prince nodded, and his gaze once more returned to Kat’s chest before his right-hand man approached and directed His Royal Highness to another dignitary across the room.
Before Wolfe could thank her for such a clever promotion of his skills, Boris, the Russian minister of culture, approached. His gaze yo-yoed between Kat’s chest and her face. “I can see why you did not want to leave her in London. Are you enjoying your visit to Russia, Miss Smith?”
“Very much. It’s a fascinating country. The people even more so. I’m just sorry our visit is so short. We’ll have to come back for longer next time, won’t we, Remington?” Her American accent was a bit shaky, having spent the majority of the past two days speaking Russian. But Boris didn’t seem to notice.
“Yes, of course, darling,” Wolfe replied. “I think a two-week visit may be called for.” Kat smiled at him, and he pulled her closer. Could he bring her back for longer to visit her sister? He’d thought that after she found the saboteur they’d part. But there was no reason they couldn’t stay in touch, and maybe have a holiday or two together. The thought made it slightly easier to breathe. They didn’t have to say good-bye; just see you later.
Until Kat found a man able to give her the love she deserved and the babies she craved. The steel band around his chest tightened again.
“Ladies and gentlemen.” The prince’s chief adviser tapped a spoon against his glass of sparkling rose water. “His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Zayed al Hassan bin Adjmani, thanks you for coming this evening and would like to invite you to now view the jewelry submitted by the contesting designers. This way please.”
With a dramatic flair, two attendants flung open the double doors at the end of the ballroom.
This was it. His big moment.
Kat slid her hand into his and squeezed. “Did you want me to stand by your collection so people can see the sapphire?”
“No, I made a second one for display there.” Besides, he wanted her by his side.
Kat put her other hand on his arm, and they entered the room with the rest of the guests and jewelers. The collections were displayed in alphabetical order, which meant his were last. Hopefully, they’d also be the most memorable.
The crowd split and he led Kat to the first table, the French company’s display. They were already the appointed jewelers to several European royal families. And in keeping with that pedigree, their submitted pieces were very traditional—beautiful, but conservative.
Next up was the Russian designer’s submission. They, too, had kept with their house’s signature style, and rather than submit jewelry, they had created objects d’art incorporating the gemstones. It was a calculated risk as the crown prince’s five wives were rumored to be very competitive. Producing objects rather than jewelry would eliminate any fighting for particular items. Kat, however, seemed unimpressed.
She actually made a face when she saw the items designed by the American house. They were very bold and innovative, and he could admire their cutting-edge design, but they didn’t look elegant or even comfortable to wear.
The Greek jewelers were over-the-top fussy. It was as if they tried to fit as many jewels as possible into each piece. The Italian house was probably his greatest competition. Their designs were beautiful, and they’d chosen to highlight different stones than Wolfe, so it was difficult to make an accurate comparison.
None of the pieces bore any resemblance to the fake designs he’d uploaded on to his system. So it didn’t seem that his competitors had a hand in the sabotage of his software.
When they finally arrived at his display, Kat’s indrawn breath was audible. He only hoped others had the same reaction. “Wolfe, they’re gorgeous.” When her eyes met his, though, there was an odd light in them. The same as when she’d said good-bye to Valentina.
Then her gaze slid over his shoulder and all the blood drained from her face. Her hand shook in his and she tucked herself closer to him.
“Kat?” He turned slightly to see what had frightened her while shielding her with his body. All he could see were people milling about, chatting about the various displays in their native tongues.
When he glanced back at her, she was so pale he put an arm around her shoulders and searched the room for a chair where she could sit. He spotted one in the corner and was about to move toward it when a big hand landed on his shoulder.
Kat’s gaze flew to his. “I’m so sorry,” she said.
Wolfe’s muscles tensed, ready to battle the world for his woman.
…
Her heart pounded so loud the buzz of chatter in the room disappeared entirely. Her gaze darted, searching for an escape that wouldn’t take her near Nikita. If she could just back out… Then her former boyfriend put a large hand on Wolfe’s shoulder, and the time to run was gone.
She’d tried to get out of attending the party, worried this might happen. But Wolfe had done so much for her and he’d really wanted her at his side. She hadn’t had the heart to refuse his request, especially when he asked her to wear his beautiful creation. So when she’d first arrived in the ballroom, she’d quickly checked for any of her old crew. This was exactly the type of event they’d work—full of rich foreigners distracted by shiny objects. But she hadn’t seen anyone she recognized. Of course, it had been five years; they’d undoubtedly changed personnel in that time.
Now everything they’d both worked for was about to blow up, unless she could stop Nikita from exposing her cover. Could she play on their past relationship and any lingering feelings he might have for her? Not that he’d ever truly loved her. He’d never made her feel like Wolfe did—beautiful, smart, important to him. In fact, after discovering her curvy body and enjoying it himself, he’d then tried to talk her into working both sides of the game—stealing the personal devices and stripping them of information. He’d wanted to pimp her out. That’s when she knew she’d had to get away. Thank God, Liam had found her before she’d had to take any other drastic action.
“I need to speak with your…companion.” Nikita addressed Wolfe, but his eyes never left Kat’s face.
Wolfe’s free hand fisted, and Kat stepped between the two men before this went sideways. Nikita had never been slow to use violence. The crown prince was known to be a man who abhorred fighting. Any skirmish, no matter who started it, would destroy Wolfe’s chances of winning the royal commission.
“Nikita, what a surprise to see you here.” She begged him with her eyes not to make a scene, or shout that she was an impostor and not the American girlfriend of the British designer.
“Katya,” he said, his voice low.
“Remington, will you excuse us for a minute?” She kissed him lightly on the cheek. “I’ll be right back,” she added when he didn’t release her hand. Slowly Wolfe’s fingers uncurled from hers, but she could read the reluctance in his eyes.
Bozhe moi, she prayed this would all work out.
Nikita put his hand on her back and directed her into the first ballroom. It was being switched from reception area to dining. Each table to hold eight guests. Would she be back for dinner, or would Wolfe be eating alone?
By the time Nikita stopped, they were on the small balcony overlooking the river. In the distance, cars honked and people strolled along the promenade unknowing and uncaring that her life was about to implode.
“What do you want, Nikita?” Although she could move away from him, she stayed close so they couldn’t be overheard. She also kept the conversation in English, so any staff who might be listening would either not understand or think it a clandestine meeting between two foreigners.
“How can you ask? Katya, I’ve never forgotten you. It kept me awake for months, wondering where you went. I searched for you—”
“Cut the crap. You never loved me. You wanted me to seduce other men to steal their stuff. What kind of boyfriend asks the woman he allegedly loves to do that?”
“It was business. Sometimes you have to separate business and pleasure.”
“Well, I’m no longer any of your business. Or pleasure.”
“You are my business. Are you working this party?”
“Absolutely not. I’m Kat Smith, and I’m here as the guest of Remington Wolfe, the British designer.”
His eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe you. As head of security for the hotel—”
“Since when does the fox get put in charge of the hen house? Don’t they know who you are?”
Nikita’s mouth tightened into a firm line, but his shrug was nonchalant. “Do you think you are the only one who can reinvent yourself? After you left, our team fell apart. No one could pull the info off the devices as quickly as you. So I made a new identity and took this job.”
“And you’re telling me you’re legitimately head of security here? This isn’t another con?”
“Who better to secure a place than someone who knows all the tricks to infiltrate it?” Nikita had always been supremely confident. She could picture him talking his way into a position he had no right to hold.
She put a hand on his chest, hoping to reach anything that was left of his feelings for her. “I’m legit, too. I’m a cyber security expert now.”
His eyes said he didn’t believe her. “You took a risk coming back here, Katya. If the Federal Security Bureau discovers that Pantera is back in the country…”
She went rigid, forcing her muscles to absorb the shiver that ran down her spine. Show no weakness. Except it wasn’t only herself in jeopardy. If it became known that Wolfe had brought an elite hacker into an event filled with foreign dignitaries, it wouldn’t go well for him, either. She should have told him the whole truth when she had the chance. Or at least stayed away from the party. “What are you going to do?”
“For now, keep an eye on you.” Nikita’s blue eyes ran up and down her body. “You’re even more beautiful than five years ago. Come back to me. I can keep you safe.”
“Like you did before? Thanks, but I’ll take my chances on my own.”
He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, and her hand automatically checked he hadn’t lifted the sapphire earrings Wolfe had asked her to wear. “You’ve done well for yourself.”
“Everything I’m wearing I bought with money I earned, not stole.”
“Even these gems?” Nikita went to touch her again, but she blocked his hand with her arm.
“This jewelry is part of Wolfe’s entry to the competition and will be returned to him after tonight.”
“I gave you a ring once.”
“And I gave it right back when I discovered it was a tool to control me.”
He raised her hand in his and kissed the finger bearing a sapphire and diamond ring. “Who controls you now, Pantera?”
“No one controls me. I’m with Wolfe because I want to be. He treats me well.”
“He’s a lucky man.”
“Yes, I am.” Wolfe’s deep voice was edged with anger.
She removed her hand from Nikita and shifted to Wolfe’s side. “If you’ll excuse us, Nikita. We have a party to attend.” Without waiting for his response, she returned to the display room with Wolfe. He steered her over to a quiet corner, away from the jewels, which people were still fawning over. Mostly his designs, she noticed. She couldn’t ruin this for him after all the effort he’d put in.
“What was that about?” Wolfe whispered into her ear, disguising the question in a loving embrace.
“Just someone I used to know, surprised to see me here.”
“Was it a surprise?”
“Yes, and not a pleasant one.”
Wolfe glanced over her shoulder and his eyes narrowed, tension hardening his muscles. “Is that your ex-boyfriend? The one who wanted to pimp you out?”
Her heart beat so hard she was surprised the jewel at her breast didn’t vibrate. “It doesn’t matter. He’s history. I’m here with you.”
“What was it he called you? Pantera? What does that mean?”
She glanced around, had anyone heard him say that name? She should have listened to her instincts and stayed away from this party. Now her past was colliding with her present, about to obliterate her future. “It’s just a nickname, panther. It means nothing. Please don’t use it. It reminds me of him.”
His gaze swept the room once more before returning to her face. “Do you want to leave?”
From the corner of her eye she saw Nikita return. He moved to the far wall, and she could feel his gaze on her more often than not. He wasn’t convinced she’d gone straight. But if she left now, he’d be sure to follow and she couldn’t risk another run-in with him that someone might overhear. “No. I won’t let him intimidate me. I’m with the greatest jewelry designer the world has seen in centuries. I’m not going to hide.”
She grabbed a glass of champagne off a tray and set about charming anyone who came near. Within half an hour, she and Wolfe were surrounded, and Nikita was nowhere in sight. But her nerves were stretched to the limit, and when someone dropped a glass on the wooden floor, she jumped. The call to dinner came as a welcome relief. At least she could sit and no one would notice her knees knocking together.
As Wolfe helped push in her chair, he leaned down. “Your ex-boyfriend hasn’t taken his eyes off you all evening. Is there something I should know?”
She swallowed. “No.”
He didn’t look convinced.
The server placed the first course before her but her appetite was gone. She wanted to look around to see if Nikita still had her under surveillance but didn’t want him to think she was anxious. Did she even need to worry? Could he turn her in without implicating himself? All she was guilty of at the moment was entering the country under a false identity. And it would be his word against Wolfe’s. Would anyone really believe Nikita? But every fake identity had its weakness and she wasn’t ready to test hers to the scrutiny of a zealous government official.
She pushed the salad around her plate, pretending to eat. The couple to her right were Russian but didn’t speak much English and she didn’t dare speak Russian with them. To Wolfe’s left were two men from France. Wolfe was conversing with them in French, not one of her better languages. The couple at the opposite side of the table were German but spoke excellent English. After discussing the competition and whether or not people had been to Moscow before, conversation waned.
Wolfe had a fake smile on his face, but she was probably the only one who noticed. Like she noticed his hand fisted under the table between courses, and the fact that for the first time since they became lovers, he made no attempt to touch her, even casually. When her napkin slipped off her lap, she had to retrieve it herself. He must have realized the precarious position she’d put him in.
Toward the end of dinner, the speeches began, and several times Kat had to clutch the seat of the chair to keep from running away. She stretched to try and get some blood flow into her leg and noticed Nikita staring at her. Another man came up to him and spoke in his ear. Her ex-boyfriend’s smile got larger but he never took his eyes from her. His interest in her was becoming too obvious. She had to get away before the inevitable fallout claimed Wolfe.
“Remy.” She deliberately used the name she called him during their intimate moments, hoping to remind him of their connection, “I’m going to the ladies’ room. Do you want me to come back or wait for you in our suite?”
She held her breath waiting for his answer.
“I’ll see you upstairs.”
His eyes were the cold gray of the Neva River before it iced up in winter.
Time to rebuild the firewall around her heart.
Chapter Thirteen
Wolfe yanked off his tie the second the lift doors shut. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall. His evening of triumph had turned into a waking nightmare.
He’d asked and discovered that Kat’s ex-boyfriend was actually the hotel’s head of security. If he were really a criminal gang leader, would he be in charge of securing a hotel full of foreign dign
itaries? Had anything Kat told him been the truth? Or was his paranoia acting up again?
But worse than the circle of questions twisting his gut in knots was the constant replay of the scene he’d interrupted on the balcony of his woman with her hand on another man’s chest while the bastard caressed her cheek.
Now he didn’t know what to believe. Could he still trust Kat? It wasn’t his computer systems at risk, it was his heart. Because as casual as he’d meant to keep their relationship, it had gone way beyond that.
The lift doors opened and he trudged his way to their suite. Would Kat even be there, or had she packed up and left already? He shoved his hand in his pocket and ran his fingers over the hard bicolored sapphire and matching earring set. Kat had slipped them off before leaving the dinner table. Was it her way of saying good-bye?
He pushed the key card into the slot and braced himself for an empty room. Instead, Kat perched on the sofa, wearing a blue silk robe over her navy corset. But the seductive smile she normally greeted him with was replaced by cool detachment. She’d retreated into herself again, a defensive mode he recognized.
“Are you still feeling poorly?” he asked aloud, in case their room really was bugged. He’d explained her early departure by saying that she’d had lunch from a food cart in Gorky Park and it hadn’t agreed with her.
“A bit better. I’m sorry I missed the dancing, though. Maybe we can have a private party now?”
He nodded, and she pressed play on a small stereo. Elvis Presley began to sing “Can’t Help Falling In Love.” Had she chosen that song on purpose?
She wrapped her arms around his waist and tucked her head under his chin. But her body was stiff, and her movements stilted. Still, she felt so damn good. He’d forgive her almost anything to keep her there.
“They’ve been through our room while we were downstairs,” she whispered as they swayed together. There wasn’t much space for dancing, but as he didn’t figure that was the point of the exercise, it didn’t really matter.
