When I return to the house, I avoid the most direct route back to my room, laying as low as possible to avoid running into Dimitri. The doorbell rings, and I duck behind a column for the perfect vantage point I need to see the person entering. Or as Austin described when he outlined his plan to me, the operative.
God, this just might work.
Alexei answers, and immediately escorts the tall, leggy blonde to Dimitri’s bedroom. Her five-inch stilettos clack on the marble stairs as her body sways seductively for maybe no one’s pleasure but her own. I make no apologies when my eyes roll, though my gratitude gives me a twinge of guilt.
She’s well made up, but not overly showy except for her perfectly plump lips that are painted a dark cherry red. Her conversation with Alexei is in Russian, and he chuckles lightly. A whimsical trait I’ve never seen in the man.
Observant, she sees me and meets my gaze for barely a moment, but long enough that I catch her confident wink. Otherwise, she gives no indication that she’s seen me.
The sigh of relief that pours from my open lips is automatic, and I tiptoe my way up those same stairs, eager for the gilded prison I just escaped.
In the suite I’ve been held in, I shut the door, careful to keep it unlocked, but before I can relax too much, I hear someone behind me clear their voice. Startled, I whirl around, struggling to catch my breath.
A man dressed entirely in black greets me with a warm smile and a handsome face that seems, I don’t know, uncharacteristic for his outfit. Noticing the white of his collar and the long cross dangling from his neck, I address him as best I can.
“Father? Is there something I can do for you?”
He steps forward, offering me a seat on one of the elegant vintage chairs while he takes the one next to it. I sit, not entirely sure why he’s here. I mean, undoubtedly, he’s here to officiate the wedding. But why is this man in my room, unless Dimitri has the audacity to force a confession upon me?
From an invisible pocket hidden along the front of his robe, he pulls out a small unmarked cylinder. He keeps it in his palm but presses it until it clicks. Displaying it to me, he speaks with a charming faint accent, a far cry from the thick Russian accent of Dimitri and his staff.
“We can speak freely now, but we need to sit this way to keep anyone watching from reading our lips.”
Cautious, I ask, “What would we need to speak freely about, Father?” I don’t know if this is a trick or a trap, and my overwhelming need to trust this man is swatted away by my mind.
Trust no one.
The knowing smile that fills his expression manages to lift the suffocating concerns that constrict me. “We have a few mutual friends. I don’t know Austin, but he seems nice. Coop, I’m getting to know, despite his smart attempts to steer clear of the spotlight. But the real reason I’m here is Margot.”
“Margot?” I blurt out my confusion in a string of choppy questions, needing answers to every one of them. “How? What? Margot’s involved? Is there anyone at all not keeping secrets from me?”
His face grows more handsome as he tugs the collar from his neck, and his smile is absolutely disarming. “Let’s just say that Margot was worried about you. And I realize Austin is part of Mav’s party, but if there’s one thing I love to do, it’s crash a party. But I want to know what you want. Hear it from your own lips. Tell me, my child,” he says with an air of mischief. “If you had one wish, what would it be?”