Ana stood in her dressing room, staring in the mirror at her third choice of dresses for the evening. There was nothing wrong with any of the gowns she’d tried on so far, but none of them seemed special enough for her first foray back into Dallas society since the averted bombing at the museum benefit she’d attended over a month ago.
You’re acting like a silly schoolgirl. No one is going to talk to you, socialize with you no matter what you wear.
It was true. Her connection to Mikhail made her a pariah at these events which meant she usually shied away from attending. She didn’t get the hypocrisy that allowed the museum to gratefully accept the generous donations of the Mancuso family, only to act like her gift of three times that amount were tainted funds. Mikhail made fun of her for trying to fit in, but then again he’d never had any class and didn’t care for anyone who did. One of the many reasons they’d never got along.
She reached for the Dior. She’d only worn it once before and the shimmery flow of the midnight blue gown had left a trail of breathless admirers. The other patrons might not talk to her or socialize with her, but they wouldn’t be able to avoid looking at her and she could live with that small consolation.
Tonight’s benefit was for the opera, and she’d taken advantage of the fact Mikhail was still out of town to arrange for a car service to take her to the bright red hall on the edge of downtown, not wanting one of Mikhail’s henchmen to escort her to the event since he’d either scare the other patrons or report her every action to Mikhail. Or both.
Not that she had anything nefarious planned for the evening, but the idea of being monitored would rob the night of pleasure, and she needed a little pleasure right now. Her mind still whirred with the memory of Neal in her private room at Sanctuary. There’d been that moment when they’d almost kissed and the heat of the encounter seared them both. She hadn’t imagined that. Or had she?
Damn. Now was not the time to start mistrusting her instincts. Her relationship with Neal was strictly business. It had to be or her plans wouldn’t work. And they had to work because she couldn’t stand to think the rest of her life would be nothing more than watching Mikhail indulge his every pleasure at her expense.
She managed to avoid any staff on her way downstairs, and she breathed a sigh of relief that Katia didn’t show up as she often did when Mikhail was out of town. The driver was waiting by the servant entrance as she’d requested and he didn’t bother her with small talk on the way downtown, which set a good tone for the rest of the evening. But when he started to pull up in front of the Winspear, she interrupted the silence. “Let’s go around the building. It’s a beautiful night and I’d like to see the park.”
He shot her a curious look in the rearview mirror but proceeded to steer the car away from the many others queued up for the valet stand and drove around to the back of the building which faced the large park that covered the thoroughfare running through downtown. She didn’t blame him for questioning her choice. In tall heels and a long gown, traipsing around wasn’t ideal, but it would save her from the photographers gathered at the entrance to the opera hall, hoping to catch celebrity sightings. All she needed was Mikhail seeing her photo in the paper, accusing her of trying to step out on him, show him up by participating in society events he considered a waste of time and beneath him.
But she’d left a rich life, full of friends and functions, to fulfill the bargain her family had made to keep their fortunes going, and she’d be damned if he robbed her of this too. Generous donations bought her entrance to events like this one where she could at least pretend to be someone other than the wife of a mobster even if it was only for an evening at a time.
She made her way around the building and entered through one of the side doors. Waiters walked through the lobby, carrying trays of drinks and she took the first one offered, forcing herself to sip slowly. The opera tonight was Carmen, and she planned to stay for the entire three-hour production—a perfect way to avoid her cavernous, empty home and the life she’d grown to despise.
“Crab puff pastry?”
She looked up at the server, holding his tray toward her. She started to decline, but the morsels looked heavenly, and she’d skipped dinner. If she didn’t eat something the champagne was going to go right to her head. She reached for a napkin and scooped up one of the bite-sized puffs.
“You should take more than one,” the waiter said. “They’re really good.”
She bit into the one in her hand and nearly moaned with pleasure. He was right and she obliged by taking another. He moved on and she watched him go, half wishing she could steal his tray full of goodness, call the car service, and curl up in her suite at home with a bottle of Dom and these snacks. Maybe being alone wasn’t so bad.
The moment the thought appeared so did a familiar face from across the room, and Ana sucked in a breath. Neal was wearing a tuxedo which was show-stopping enough, but with her towering height she outshone everyone else in the room. She stood completely still as if any movement might cause Neal to disappear like she’d been nothing more than an apparition, but when Neal’s eyes met hers and she smiled, Ana knew her worries were misplaced.
But then another figure appeared beside her and Ana’s mood went dark. Siobhan Collins was back and she wasn’t smiling. What would that mean for her arrangement with Neal? If Siobhan was back to assume control of the Mancuso business, was Neal about to be relegated back to the role of bodyguard? Would she have any say about how things were managed, or was her moment of being in charge over for good?
Ana suspected the latter would be true. She tore her gaze from Neal and grabbed another glass of champagne from a passing waiter. She should find her seat, but it would look odd to leave the reception before the executive director for the opera had a chance to give his spiel to try to talk them all into opening their checkbooks and offering generous donations. If she wanted to fit in, she’d stay put. Her brain commenced a tiny tug-of-war between want and need and making something harder than it had to be. She wasn’t very far into it when Neal started walking toward her, flanked by Siobhan and another woman who looked slightly familiar. This was not how she’d planned to see Neal again, but she had a feeling all her well-laid plans were about to unravel. She tipped the glass of champagne to finish it off, set it down on one of the tables scattered throughout the room, and fortified herself to meet her rivals, because no matter what arrangement she’d worked out with Neal, ultimately, they were adversaries, and she’d do well to remember it.
* * *
Neal pulled the sedan up to the valet stand at the Winspear and turned back to her two passengers, Siobhan and Royal, who were deep in the middle of a whispered conversation. “We’re here.”
Siobhan met her eyes and motioned to the building. “Guess this is as good a time as any to make a grand reentry. Let’s go. Both of you.”
Neal could see Royal hesitate and she could hardly blame her since no doubt the FBI was on the lookout for her since she’d abandoned her job to flee the country with Siobhan. For her own part, she didn’t get why Siobhan insisted that she’d don a tux and show up for this or any event where the entire elite of Dallas society would show up to see and be seen. She’d accompanied Siobhan to plenty of functions, but she’d spent her time on the fringes, not mixing and mingling. She had absolutely nothing in common with any of these people which didn’t bode well for fitting in.
“I’d like to go on record again that this seems like a bad idea,” she said. “I don’t have a clue what to say to any of these people, and Royal here is very likely to be arrested by the end of the night.”
Siobhan rolled her eyes, leading Neal to believe Royal had raised exactly the same point. “You’re perfectly capable of making small talk, which is all most of this crowd can manage, and Royal is not going to be arrested, although it’s refreshing to see you care so much about her fate. Royal didn’t do anything wrong other than quit her job. If they come after her, she’s going to become a high-profile whistleblower and I’ll have her booked on every major network to tell her story by tomorrow morning.” She gave them both a hard stare. “I’m tired of being in hiding, and I’m not going to live in fear of what may happen. Don Carlo was a major sponsor of this event and I’m here to represent him as his daughter, and I want you both with me. Is that clear?”
Neal shot a look at Royal, the only one of them who had a choice in the matter, but Royal merely shrugged like the decision was completely out of her hands.
“Okay, I’m in.” Neal left the keys in the ignition and stepped out of the car. She took the card from the valet and shoved it in her pocket. She started toward Siobhan’s door, but one of the valets already had it open and had extended a hand to help her out of the car. Another demonstration of why her presence here wasn’t necessary. With Siobhan and Royal back in town, she had no role in the family, and she’d been waiting since last night for the news her assistance was no longer necessary. But so far, all she’d gotten was a ride home from the club and a request, make that demand, to pick them both up for tonight’s event. Oh, and a direct order to wear a tuxedo, which had been the most dreaded part of her day since finding a tux that fit her tall frame on short notice had been a challenge at best.
The lobby was packed with well-dressed patrons, and Neal stepped to the side of the crowd to size up the room. There were metal detectors at the entrances to the auditorium, but not at the main doors. She quickly spotted a few undercover cops or private security—hard to tell which—who circled through the crowd, constantly on alert. She looked over at Royal who was following her line of sight and gave her a subtle nod. She might not trust Royal, but she begrudgingly admitted she would rather have someone with her instincts as a friend instead of an enemy.
She followed Royal’s gaze to see Siobhan snag three glasses of champagne from a passing waiter. She held them in one hand and slid her other around Royal’s waist and led her over to where Neal was standing.
“Here,” Siobhan said as she handed over one of the flutes. “You look like you could use a drink.”
Neal took the glass, but only managed a sip before she spotted Ana standing across the room. She choked on the drink and set it on a nearby tray.
“What is it?” Siobhan asked, turning toward Ana.
“Don’t look,” Neal croaked. She cleared her throat. “Ana Petrov is here. What is she doing here?” The rhetorical question was meant to be silent, but she’d lost control at the sight of Ana in another devastatingly gorgeous dress. Another piece of vintage couture? Probably.
“Did you tell her you were coming tonight?” Siobhan asked.
“What are you talking about?”
“You think I don’t know that you were in her private suite at the club last night?” Siobhan sighed. “You of all people should know better than to underestimate me. It wasn’t a coincidence that we were exactly where you needed us to be when you stumbled out of Anastasia’s room.”
Neal’s gut clenched. “You followed me.”
“Not for the reason you think, but yes, we did.”
“How long have you been back?”
“Not long. I was trying to find you to discuss business, but you were engaged in other pursuits.”
Neal paused for a moment to consider her next words. She didn’t like the idea Siobhan and Royal had been spying on her like she couldn’t be trusted. They were the ones who’d left the country and left the family business in disarray while they were God knows where. She’d been tasked with keeping things together and she’d been doing the best she could in the wake of Don Carlo’s death, Dominique’s betrayal, and Siobhan’s abdication. All she’d done in their absence was with a singular purpose—keep the family business together until Siobhan returned, but now she was back and everything, including the bond she’d had with Siobhan for all these years, seemed to be unraveling.
“We have a business arrangement. In case you missed it, we have a bit of a cash flow problem since Dominique took off with most of the family funds. Ana came to me with a proposition, and I accepted. You were gone and you haven’t bothered to communicate other than cryptic messages from your old law school buddy, and I had to make a judgment call. But now you’re back and you can do what you want, and clearly it’s time for me to move on.” She glared at Royal to punctuate her message and took a step toward the door.
“Wait.”
She didn’t turn back, but she didn’t keep walking either, more curious about what Siobhan would have to say than anxious to get away from this place and these people. She didn’t have to wait long.
“I put you in charge.”
Siobhan’s declaration was half accusation and plea. Neal needed to see her face to judge which. She turned and faced her employer. “But you’re here now, so it’s back to you.” She touched her hand to her forehead in a mock salute. “If it’s okay with you, I’ll simply slip back into the shadows.”
She started to walk away again, but this time Siobhan grabbed her arm and stepped into her space.
“It’s not okay,” Siobhan said. “I can’t do this on my own. I need you. I need Michael. We’re the inner circle. We’re the only circle now.”
Neal glanced over at Royal who was trying to pretend like she wasn’t listening to every word.
“Yes, her too,” Siobhan said, reading her mind. “If you trust me, you have to trust her too.”
She didn’t like it, but it wasn’t up to her. She could walk away right now. She had money saved. She could go back to New Orleans, find a place near her sister. It had been years, and it wasn’t likely anyone there would remember her or care any longer about exacting revenge. But what would she do? Her work as a bodyguard for a crime family didn’t easily translate into a position in the outside world. It wasn’t like she had a résumé and references.
“I do trust you, but you don’t need a bodyguard anymore.” She shot another pointed look at Royal.
“You’re right. I don’t need a bodyguard. But I do need a capo I can trust. I am the firstborn child of Don Carlo and Don Carlo has died. Your Don is asking you to serve. What say you?”
The room was teeming with people, staff and guests, all milling around, networking, socializing, eating and drinking, and the buzz of the crowd was a constant hum. The numbing noise was the perfect backdrop to the whirlwind of emotion Neal felt in that moment. She’d never considered becoming a made member of the Mancuso family. She’d been hired for her size, her desperation, and her debt. She’d been nothing but loyal since the day Don Carlo had saved her life, but her reward had been granted long ago and she’d been paid in full.
But now Siobhan, the true heir to the family business was standing in front of her, offering her a life of not only security, but opportunity. Being temporarily in charge was one thing, but being made meant she’d be protected instead of always being the one doing the protection. She’d never want for anything, and she’d always share in the spoils. There was only one answer to Siobhan’s question, no matter what it meant for her future and the deal she’d made with Ana. “Yes. I’m at your service. I always have been.”
“I know.” Siobhan looked around. “I promise we’ll do this more formally later. Tonight is about reconnaissance. You need to use your connection to Ana Petrov to find out what’s going on with Mikhail and Dominique. You’re right—they are working together, but Dominique is staying out of sight, and we need to flush her out. If you can get Ana to divulge what she knows, we might have a chance.”
Neal nodded, but the promise she’d already made to Ana burned in the back of her mind. “And what about what Ana wants?”
“Ana Petrov may act like her motives are pure, but she married Mikhail, which already calls her judgment into question. Whatever she’s told you she wants from you, you can bet there will be strings attached. You should continue to act like you’re going to fulfill your end of any bargain you’ve made, but tread carefully. She’s trouble.”
It was a reasonable warning, but Neal’s first instinct was to protest. To tell Siobhan that Ana wasn’t like that, but she quickly realized she didn’t know that was true. She didn’t know Ana at all other than she’d said she would help and she’d fulfilled that promise by sending cash. Lots of it. A worthy demonstration of her commitment. Surely, that was something. Right?
“Let’s go talk to her,” Neal said. “All three of us.”
“It might be a good idea,” Royal said, the first words she’d spoken in moments. “The bureau knows almost nothing about her, only her family, and I doubt any agents have had any interaction with her. This is the perfect opportunity to get a jump on the situation. Neal can do most of the talking while we size her up.”
“Fine,” Siobhan said. “Let’s go, but I’m not going to be late for the seating.”
Neal led the way through the crowded reception, her eyes fixed on Ana’s the entire way. Ana looked calm and collected, but Neal caught a slight undercurrent of worry in her glances at Siobhan and Royal and it occurred to her that Ana might try to use Royal’s status as a fugitive for leverage. When they reached Ana’s side, Neal leaned in to whisper, “If you make a fuss, it will be the end of our arrangement.”
“Do I look like the kind of woman that makes fusses?”
Neal smiled, as much for show as because she was amused by Ana’s feisty response. “Anastasia Petrov, I’d like you to meet my friends Siobhan and Royal.”
Ana matched Neal’s smile and held out her hand. “My pleasure. I’m glad you could both make it this evening. I understand you’ve been traveling.”
“A necessary duty,” Siobhan said, clasping Ana’s hand. “And I understand you’d like to have the opportunity to travel as well. Or was it that you’d prefer your husband take a permanent vacation, a wish I’m sure we all share?”
Ana raised her eyebrows ever so slightly in Neal’s direction and Neal lifted her shoulders in response. There wasn’t anything she could do about Siobhan’s comment. Did Ana really think she’d keep secrets from her boss now that Siobhan was back in town?
“My husband has his own life, Siobhan,” Ana said. “But neither one of us has fallen prey to the charms of a federal agent. Do you make a habit of living on the edge or has the death of your Don robbed you of your good sense?”
Shit. Neal instinctively stepped closer to Siobhan as if to protect her from Ana’s cutting words, but when she spotted Royal doing the same, she realized she might be the one who needed protecting for attempting to bring Ana into the fold. She glared at Ana who didn’t appear to be fazed at the exchange.
“You have a funny way of making friends,” Siobhan said. “Maybe you should—”
Her words were cut short by loud laughter coming from behind her. Neal turned to find Mikhail Petrov on her heels. Double shit.
“Are these people bothering you, Anastasia?” he bellowed.
* * *
Ana held in a gasp while Mikhail beckoned to a hulking figure standing nearby. “You would like me to have them escorted out, yes?”
Ana’s mind whirred with questions. How had Mikhail found her this evening and how had he gotten into this ticket-only event? Her suspicions about the former centered on Katia, but it could just as easily have been one of the servants Mikhail paid to spy on her. Still, when she got home, Katia was going to get a grilling. In the meantime, she forced a smile. “Well, hello, Mikhail. I’m so glad to see you made it back early from your trip. Unfortunately, I only have one ticket for tonight’s show.”
“Show? We’re not staying for this. No one in this country can do justice to the greats.” He punctuated his disdain with a rough grab of her arm. She wanted to push him off of her, but she wanted to exit gracefully with her pride intact more, so she smiled indulgently at her boorish husband. “You’re such a nationalist, Mikhail. Don’t you know that’s no longer in fashion?”
His eyes widened and his jaw set. He might be boorish, but he wasn’t stupid. She needed to get him out of here before he realized she was making fun of him in front of the Mancuso contingent. She placed a hand on the arm holding hers, squeezed gently, and prayed Neal could tell she was doing this for show. “But now that you’re home, I think we should go. We have some catching up to do.”
His frown softened and he grunted and motioned for her to follow him, but when he turned to go, Neal stepped into his space. “Move, bitch,” he growled.
“Ana, you don’t have to go.”
“‘Ana, you don’t have to go’,” Mikhail mimicked her with a high-pitch, singsong voice. He laughed and pointed at Neal. “Your new friend is pining for you already, but this one is too tall, too coarse for you.” He looked around the room. “There are many beautiful women here if you want to indulge your guilty pleasures. Women I would much rather watch kiss my wife than this loser.”
Ana could see the fury redden Neal’s face, and she silently willed her not to act on her anger. This wasn’t the time or place, and a public fight would only come back to bite her if and when Mikhail ever met his fate. Siobhan put a hand on Neal’s arm and gave her a nod. That’s right, Siobhan was a lawyer. She understood the predicament. Ana wanted to stay for the opera, but leaving with Mikhail now was her only choice if she wanted a future without him someday. Protecting Neal was a bonus.
She laced her fingers through Mikhail’s and tugged him closer. “Let’s go.”
She saw the self-satisfied grin he gave to Neal and her friends, but she couldn’t bear to look at them herself to see their reaction. She might have lost this battle, but she was here to win the war. Hopefully, Neal understood, but if she didn’t there wasn’t much she could do about it, and the thought filled her with regret.