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Or maybe she did. She doubted any of the shrewd and observant Kingston men had missed the closeness between her and Darius.
Whatever the ladies knew, they had good taste. The dark skinny jeans fitted Mia perfectly, as did the thin sweater top in a flattering shade of pale turquoise. She loved the heavy black boots, also in her size.
She brushed her damp hair into its usual bob, but because she’d showered and washed her hair often in the past two days, the black color was starting to fade, revealing more of the natural strawberry blonde she thought was boring.
She didn’t have mascara or lip gloss with her either, so Nikolai would just have to take her as she was. That man could be more observant and outspoken than was comfortable.
Except when she entered the sitting room, there were three men there, not two. The third man was standing in front of the window. He wore sunglasses, his back to the room as he looked out at the brightness of the day. Mia didn’t recognize him as being one of the Kingston brothers.
“Nikolai,” she greeted the Russian, but her wary gaze remained on the third man as he slowly turned to face her.
“Oh my God…!” His face paled as he took an involuntary step back to lean against the window.
Mia looked questioningly at Darius, but his shrug said he had no idea what was happening either. They both turned to look at Nikolai.
He grimaced. “Let me first say that the situation with Anthony Bart has been settled satisfactorily for everyone concerned.”
“Is he still alive?” Darius prompted dryly.
“Very much so, unfortunately.” Nikolai grimaced. “But with his money returned to him, he has agreed to take no further interest in the Fletcher situation.”
“Good,” Mia accepted distractedly, still very much aware of the man standing near the windows staring at her.
“As for the rest…” Nikolai snorted. “For once in my life, I admit to having no idea where to start.”
“With what?” Darius demanded even as he moved protectively to Mia’s side.
The Russian turned to the third man. “Did you bring the photograph with you as I asked?”
The other man seemed incapable of speech and unable to stop staring at Mia as he reached into the breast pocket of his jacket to remove a photograph. His hand shook as he gave it to Nikolai.
“As I thought.” Nikolai glanced down at it before giving a nod of satisfaction. “Not that the photograph is necessary, but I thought Mia might need to see something more…tangible.”
“Mia has absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” she assured him irritably, feeling really uncomfortable under the intense scrutiny of the third man.
“Look at this.” Nikolai handed her the photograph at the same time that he reached into his breast pocket and took out a slip of paper. “The photograph is visual evidence, but this is official confirmation.” He placed the slip of paper in her other hand.
Mia looked down at the colored photograph. The man was obviously a much younger version of the one standing near the windows, his dark hair showing none of the gray it had now. The woman at his side was slender, with strawberry-blonde hair, her face dominated by bright blue eyes. In her arms, she held a sleeping baby, possibly about three months old.
Mia turned from the photograph to read the slip of paper in her other hand.
Then she read it again.
And again.
The words remained the same, no matter how many times she read it. Each time, it still said that the DNA sample for Rufus Wynter was a 99% paternal match to that of Mia Smith.
She glanced at Nikolai. “How…?”
“You might recall I removed a strand of your hair from your shoulder three days ago,” he reminded. “I kept it. Without his knowledge, I did the same to Rufus the following day.”
Mia looked across at the man standing in front of the window. “You’re Rufus Wynter?”
“Yes.”
“The same Rufus Wynter who compiled a file on me and gave it to Darius?”
“Yes.”
