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“No. Ah—he’s—ah downstairs at reception. He said he’s here for his breakfast with Isabelle.”
Harley breathed a rush of relief, chastising herself. She never panicked. Ever. But the thought of the world without Aleksei…she couldn’t go there.
Isabelle stood abruptly, her face composed into a calm mask of her station. She was every inch the ambassador, her grief hidden. “Harley, go to the kitchen and set something up immediately. Hurry. We don’t know who’s watching. Tell them it was a communication error.”
Harley bolted out of the room and made a beeline for dining services. She relayed Isabelle’s request and the staff moved into action. She supervised as they brought a table into the atrium and set it with a small vase and flowers, utensils, and a coffee pot. She was sliding in the chairs when Isabelle and Aleksei walked into the room. The atrium was Isabelle’s private area for her meetings. She found that the greenery put people at ease. It was routinely checked for bugs.
She swore she could feel him when he entered the room. She looked up and their eyes collided. She felt suddenly and shamefully breathless, remembering that hard body and those soft lips. Aleksei was dressed in an elegant double-breasted gray silk suit with a light blue shirt and a gray tie. So handsome, yet rough around the edges, like a panther who had been domesticated, always with a shadow of his hidden self nearby, the air of danger lingering around him. His Russian lineage was strong in his face, and she snapped out of it.
He was still the Russian ambassador.
Still the enemy. But what a gorgeous enemy.
He crossed the room to her, closing the space between them to little more than a deep breath. His lashes drifted down, thick and black. “Miss Quill,” he said, his voice dark and smoky like his eyes. He took her hand and kissed the back, his lips lingering. Her pulse jumped.
She backed up a few steps, breathing deep of the sweet, dew-damp scents of the garden—flowers and sweet olive and boxwood—green, vibrant scents of life. As if she could scrub away the feeling of despair that clung to her, she rubbed her bare arms, a chill pebbling her flesh with goose bumps.
He waited until Isabelle was seated, his gaze flicking to Gator. “Your shadow looks like he wants to rip my head off,” he said.
“He’s as upset as we all are.”
Aleksei swore in Russian and rose abruptly, pacing, his eyes cold, his face set in a stony mask. He impatiently unbuttoned his suit coat, running his hands through his hair. “My warning—”
“Was too late,” Gator bit out.
He came back to the table. His face was set. “There is only one choice left.” He took a breath. Harley could feel the tension, brittle in the air around him, snapping with electricity. “I have solid and irrefutable proof that Leonid, Uri, and Anya Olenska with the collusion of AAL and a government official high in the Kremlin conspired to murder your ambassador and his family. I will turn this information over to you on one condition.”
“This government official?” Isabelle asked as Harley stood there in disbelief.
Aleksei’s face contorted in shame and anger, his gray eyes dark and stormy. “He’s my father, the Minister of Foreign Affairs.”
Isabelle took a hard breath and turned to look at Gator. His mouth tightened. “Son of a bitch,” he said, low and menacing.
“The condition?” Isabelle asked, her voice hard.
“You get my mother and sister out of Moscow, and I’ll give you everything I have.” Harley’s gut clenched. His gaze flicked up to her then back to Isabelle. “I know you wanted to turn me, Isabelle, but I’m not interested in becoming a spy for you against Russia.”
“What is it you want?” Isabelle said, her voice strained.
“I want out completely. I can no longer serve a government bent on evil. I want to defect to the United States. I’m asking for asylum.”
8
From a young ageAleksei had been taught that he was Russian royalty of sorts. That his dad was a mover and shaker in the Kremlin. As he got older, he saw his father for exactly what he was—an unpleasant and evil man. His father had been a minor player when the Soviet Union fell ten years before Aleksei’s birth and broke up into independent states. As a result of the fall, his father was bitter about how the politics had been handled, on a world stage no less, and opposed to democratization. He seethed deep inside at the changes. He grew to hate the United States for their part in destroying the very fabric of communism and actively looked for ways to undermine the Americans.
“Excuse me for a moment.”
Aleksei watched as Isabelle left the room with Gator. The SEAL didn’t trust him, and Aleksei couldn’t blame him. But Isabelle did. He sighed softly. Isabelle had always been on his side, and she was the reason he’d re-evaluated everything.
Back then, full of himself, a womanizer, indulgent, and spoiled, she’d taught him what being a man was all about and how he had a responsibility to live up to his potential, something no one in his family had ever forced him to face.
He loved her. Their relationship had been volatile and passionate, but ultimately, she had made it clear that she couldn’t be with him permanently because she was going into public service, seeking an ambassadorship. For the first time in his life, he discovered humility and gratitude, and how he had been wasting his life. She had opened his eyes to so much, but he would always be grateful for his introduction to Abraham Lincoln.
Then there was Harley. All he could do was look at her. She was so beautiful. She’d knocked him senseless the first time he’d seen her, and he’d never really recovered—her dark, silky hair, the shape of her eyebrows, the delicate planes of her face, the clear, sun-shot gray of her eyes. Her mouth. God, what she could do to him with her mouth.
He couldn’t think about her without getting aroused, without remembering how she’d been beneath him last night, how his heart had been engaged all those months ago in DC. He tried to get rid of the feeling, knowing that compromising a CIA agent would result in her arrest and incarceration for treason. But no matter how much he worked at forgetting, she was a glow on his heart. Last night was painful and wonderful. But even then, he’d kept his secrets.
He’d thought losing a future with Isabelle would leave him bereft without her, without her counsel and, more importantly, without her friendship. But he’d underestimated her, and throughout the years, they had become very close friends under the radar.
