The Lion in Russia (11 page)

“Do I get a vote on that?” she whispered her
body automatically responding to the proximity to his.

“But I know better than to trust you,” he
said as he pushed her back down into the chair and turned to charge
toward the ornate double doors at the opposite end of the
suite.

She immediately sprang back to her feet.
“Where are you going?” Regardless of the fact that he was being a
right bastard it was her job to protect him. If he was leaving the
house she needed to know.

“To another bedroom. I might have to take you
to Pitr, but I’ll be damned if I’ll have you in my bed.”

***

The next morning Vries sat at the dining room
table, picking listlessly at a pastry while sipping her morning
espresso. Having not slept well the previous night, she felt even
crappier than she had when she went to bed. Leo must have had an
even worse time of it as he hadn’t even come down yet. It was half
past nine and he was usually up no later than seven. The events of
the previous evening replayed through her mind as though on a
continuous loop. She’d tried repeatedly to contact Deringer, but he
hadn’t answered his cell, nor had he responded to emails she’d sent
to several of his email addresses. She was starting to get
seriously worried about him.

Turning to rise from the table, she looked up
in astonishment when Pasha came bustling into the room. The other
woman was dressed melodramatically in all black; a black cashmere
turtleneck and impossibly skinny cigarette pants were a perfect
foil for her long blond hair. Artificially colored, of course.
Vries knew Pasha had a standing appointment with a colorist every
Wednesday. In actuality Pasha’s hair was almost totally gray, but
the colorist did an excellent job and it swept down her back nearly
to her waist.

“Oh my Vries, I didn’t expect to see you
here,” she said rushing over to Vries’s side. She paused to give
her a brief kiss, enveloping Vries with the aroma of La Luz, the
House of Girasol’s signature fragrance.

Just then the housekeeper returned to the
dining room and Pasha requested a cup of tea. “I don’t know how you
get away with pastry in the morning, of course I am ten years older
and carbohydrates are deadly for me.”

“For me too,” Vries said.

“Where is Lyov? Usually he’s up and about
very early.”

“I think he’s still upstairs, we had a rather
exciting night,” Vries said.

“Oh?” Pasha raised a perfectly arched
brow.

“Not that type of excitement. I’ll leave it
to Leo to tell you if he’s so inclined.”

Pasha nodded. “How very discreet of you,
love, but he tells me everything. He even told me he planned to ask
you out, but that you were worried about our relationship.”

Vries smiled. None of this was relevant
anymore as she was pretty sure Leo had lost all romantic interest
in her, but again, she didn’t think it was her place to be sharing
the man’s business with his ex-wife even if he apparently had no
hesitancy in doing so.

“It’s not a big deal...”

“Exactly,” Pasha cut her off. “Lyova and I
were never in love. And certainly are not in love now. ”

Well that brought Vries up short. She’d known
the divorce was amicable, but it had never occurred to her that
they were never in love. Then why on earth had they gotten married?
Her puzzlement must have shown on her face as Pasha rushed on to
explain.

“You have to understand the times we were
living in. I was poor. Poor in a way you as an American could never
understand,” the other woman said, her accent thickening with
emotion. Pasha often faked a heavier accent, especially in business
dealings. It kept the people she dealt with off-balance. But Vries
was pretty sure this was authentic. Vries studied her face closely.
Pasha was in her mid-forties, but managed to look barely thirty.
Vries didn’t think she’d had a lift and her features were too
expressive for Botox; either she had amazing genes, a helluva
surgeon or she’d found the Fountain of Youth. Vries had tried Botox
and found it impossible to use. As a model she needed to be able to
move her face, but if Pasha had found someone this good with
fillers Vries wanted to know his name immediately. She realized the
other woman had stopped talking.

“We have poverty in America,” Vries said.

“Yes, yes, of course you do, I’ve seen
60
Minutes
. What you don’t have is the desolation, the utter
hopelessness that was there when I was growing up,” Pasha said.

Vries didn’t interrupt again, though she knew
what Pasha said was untrue, it was not an uncommon belief amongst
the Eastern Europeans she’d met.

Pasha continued, “I was modeling and going to
school to be a pharmacist, but it was very hard. I was actually
considering becoming a mail-order bride when I met Lyov at a disco.
My friends told me he was rich and I set my sights on him.”

“Okay, you didn’t love him, but how do you
know he didn’t love you?” Vries said.

“Oh, Lyova was just getting accustomed to
being a wealthy man. He was like a kid in a candy shop, you say? He
bought fast cars. Lots of houses. Beautiful woman. He collected me,
like a painting or a crystal vase. And I let him. Fortunately we
got along well. He discovered I have a brain under all this
hair.”

Vries frowned. “So why the divorce?”

Pasha shrugged. “We grew up,” she said
simply. “The relationship was empty. There was no love. No passion.
I found passion with Girasol. I love it more than I could love any
man. I despaired Lyova finding anything that obsessed him more than
making money, then he met you. It was obvious from the very
beginning that you would be his grand passion.”

Vries shook her head. This discussion was
almost surreal. “It feels so strange to be having this conversation
with his ex-wife.”

“I tell you we are like--”

“Brother and sister.” Vries briefly closed
her eyes, really tired of hearing them say that. “I know. You two
really need to file that phrase under Not Helping. It just sounds
creepy.”

“I’m sorry, but it is the truth.”

Vries took another sip of her coffee. “Okay,”
she said with a sigh.

“What is wrong with you? You are not yourself
this morning. Are you sad because Lyov is leaving? He is a
businessman and he will be back soon. He travels constantly, but
then so do you.”

“No, that’s not it. Besides he’s taking me
with him.”

“He is? That’s excellent. When he told me he
was going to Pitr I was worried, you know.”

“Why?” Vries asked wondering just how much
information Leo had shared with Pasha.

“I thought he was saying goodbye. How you
say, a farewell tour? Pitr is our home and I know Lyov believes he
will be arrested after the trial. I believe Putilin wants him
dead.”

Vries blinked. Then blinked again, astounded
by the other woman’s astute observation and the fact that Leo
really did tell his ex-wife everything. Vries wasn’t sure how she
felt about that. Actually she did know. Fortunately she and Pasha
had become fast friends almost from their first meeting, so it
wasn’t as awful as it could have been. Plus she seemed to have
Leo’s best interests at heart.

“Why do you think that?”

“Think what?”

“That Putilin wants Leo dead.”

“Because Putilin isn’t an idiot. Those other
men don’t have the type of power Lyov does. Putting him in prison
will only give those wanting to overthrow the president a focus.
Ideally Lyov will just disappear.”

“If you know this why didn’t you try to talk
him out of returning to Russia?”

Pasha rolled her bright blue eyes. “Have you
ever tried to talk him out of anything? Perhaps your relationship
is too young...”

Vries quickly shook her head. “No. I get your
point.” Leo didn’t push worth a damn.

“Anyway, but if he’s taking you, perhaps I’m
just worried over nothing.”

Vries made a sound of assent, unwilling to
share that the relationship was over and she was forcing Leo to
take her with him. After all, the relationship was still her best
cover.

“Oh my goodness,” Pasha said. “You won’t have
anything appropriate for winter in St. Petersburg! You will need
coats and furs and boots.”

“Pasha, the last thing I need is more
clothes. I have whole Girasol lines I haven’t even worn yet,
besides I’ve survived winter before,” Vries said.

“There is nothing like a Russian winter. Look
what it did to Napoleon,” Pasha said shaking her head.

“That was Moscow, not Pitr. Leave it to you
Pasha to find a way to spend more of my money.”

Vries whirled around as Leo entered the room.
Eating him with her eyes she took in every facet of his appearance.
He looked as exhausted as she felt which was no mean feat. The
lines of his face were drawn and his complexion was gray. His light
eyes stood out vividly against the dark circles under them.

For several breathless seconds he returned
her look, staring as though he was as helpless to look away as she.
“She’s right, you know. You will need appropriate winter
clothing.”

“I’m sure that what I have will be fine, and
I can buy my own clothes if they’re needed. I can’t wear fur
anyway. I’ve done a PETA campaign,” Vries said.

“Yes I know,” his voice deepening to a near
growl. “As though I could forget you posing nude for anyone who
cared to look. That won’t be happening again.”

Vries gasped, but before she could even
formulate a rebuttal to his high-handedness he continued. “PETA has
never spent winter in Pitr, if they had, they’d be skinning the
little bastards with their teeth. Since you are coming to St.
Petersburg on my behalf it’s only fair that I buy any clothing you
need for you.”

Vries stared at him. Apparently he intended
to maintain the fiction of their relationship. Even so it was
annoying that he would insist on buying clothes for her when they
both knew he didn’t even want her to come with him.

Reluctant to blow their cover story Vries
nodded her assent. “Thank you, I’ll try not to bankrupt you,” she
said with a smirk.

“Good luck with that,” he said with a laugh.
“We might as well do some shopping as it will take a day or so to
get your visa.”

“Only a day or so?” Vries raised a brow.

“My Lyov how things have changed. I remember
when you were able to do such things in hours,” Pasha said.

“Yes, I am now, unfortunately, on the wrong
side of the government.”

“You don’t have to be,” Pasha said with a
pointed look.

“For the sake of my country, yes, I do,” he
said in a tone which brooked no argument, but that didn’t seem to
affect his ex-wife.

Pasha rolled her eyes and made a dramatic
gesture. “That is ridiculous...”

Leo cut her off with a sharp spate of
Russian, which Pasha responded to in kind. They went back and forth
for a long time. Vries’s Russian was gradually improving, but she
could not even hope to follow when they spoke so quickly. Finally
Leo said something that based on his facial expression and gestures
was his final word on the matter. Turning his back to both of them,
he pressed a buzzer in the sideboard to ring for the housekeeper.
When she arrived he requested a Russian breakfast. Pasha said
nothing more and that was the end of the discussion.

Chapter Nine

The steaming hot water pounded down on her
body, bringing relief to the soreness from her hour-long run. Pasha
had departed shortly after breakfast and Leo returned to his study
to take care of some undisclosed business. Vries had taken
advantage of his fully equipped gym and taken a run on his
treadmill. Now she was exhausted. The spicy citrus notes of her
body wash filled the large marble bathroom bringing her to greater
alertness. With her hair secured in braids she stood in the steamy
water and let it soothe away the stress of the past few days. Leo
hadn’t shown even the slightest indicator of relenting in his
belief that she’d basically whored herself for a job. It was so
frustrating, though looking at it from his point of view she could
almost understand, which was the only reason she didn’t simply
waterboard him until he saw the light.

In his position and with background it made
sense; Pasha had married him for money. According to him most of
the women he’d been with had probably done the same, though she
found that hard to believe and couldn’t imagine a less arduous
whoring assignment. Still, he really should have known her better.
For one thing she had her own money, and for another it was hardly
in her character. When Lelia suggested concealing her intent, she
did so not knowing they would start sleeping together. She shook
her head, admitting at least to herself that she’d known from the
beginning she would sleep with Leo and she should’ve come clean
with him from the beginning. Now it was too late. She slammed a
hand against the slick marble tile that made up the shower
enclosure. No way in hell was it too late. Her feelings for him
were still developing, but she had no intention of letting him go.
After going around and around with her thoughts for a while longer,
she deliberately shut that loop down, determined to enjoy her
shower.

Then just like that her solitude was
shattered. A foreign noise, almost imperceptible above the roar of
the falling water alerted her to someone’s presence. Her heart
leapt with hope as for a moment she thought it might be Leo, but
that quickly came to an end as the ensuing silence lasted longer
than it would have if it had been him. It was his house; he
wouldn’t be creeping around. Without pausing for a towel or to shut
off the water Vries grabbed the knife she’d taken into the shower
with her and stepped from under the water and onto the teak mat set
outside the shower. Deringer stood leaning casually against the
double vanity at the other side of the room doing a slow clap.