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What kind of party girl would be seen in glasses as she read the Times?
Kaz put down the report he’d been pretending to read.
“What are you doing?”
His tone was harsh. She looked up and stared at him.
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
“I got you a bunch of magazines.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t read the ones you requested.”
“Give me a break, Ms. Rostov. The Times?”
Her gaze was cool and steady. “The euro is down against the dollar. Perhaps it’s just as well that Sardovia didn’t give up the zlot for the euro.”
Kaz blinked. “Excuse me?”
“I said—”
“I heard what you said. And I don’t know what it is you’re trying to pull, but it won’t work.”
“I agree.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that the individual who actually administers this fund might be interested in what’s happening to the euro, but we both know that person is not you.”
“Are you crazy? Of course it’s me.”
“Yes, so you would like the king and the people to think, but—”
“Who filled you with such nonsense? Your father?”
“I am aware of life’s realities.”
“You are aware of the cushy life you lead. What could you possibly know about international currency?”
Katie glared at her guard. Her captor. The man who would deliver her into a lifetime of servitude. Why play games? She had kept the media from knowing anything about her beyond the lies, the façade she had created as self-protection, but what did that matter now? What did it matter what anyone thought about her, especially this man?
“I find economics interesting. I studied it in school.”
He laughed.
“I’m glad that amuses you.”
“Let me get this straight. You want me to believe that you have a degree in eco?”
“No. That’s incorrect.”
Kaz snorted. “Yeah. I’ll bet it is.”
“My degree is in sociology, but I took several courses in finance.”
“You. The daughter of a thug named Gregor Rostov.”
“Why would you, of all people, call my father a thug?”
