“Your mother was our cousin. We are related.”
“Just what I needed this week, more family,” she muttered in English.
Marko kept his face immobile, though he thought it an odd thing for her to say. He continued to speak in Russian. “We brought our elderly aunt with us. She wants to meet you.”
Beside him, Viktor cleared his throat and bobbed his head toward that back door. A man had emerged, dark-haired, muscled, with a determined look suggesting no one should mess with him. He wore dark jeans, a black T-shirt and a rather black scowl as he approached.
Marko approved. It didn’t surprise him in the least when the man sidled up next to Iris, though the way she stiffened in response intrigued him.
“What’s up?” the man asked her in English.
“They say they’re cousins of mine from Russia,” she answered quietly before turning back to Marko. “Please, bring your aunt by. I would love to meet her.”
“She is frail, old. We have a suite here at the hotel. If you would come up for an hour-”
Iris shook her head. “I couldn’t leave the shop.”
He touched her hand on the counter. “These could be her final days.” God help him, if Tatiana ever found out he’d suggested that, even as a ruse, she’d give him hell.
The man pulled Marko’s hand away from Iris’s fingers. “The lady said nyet, pal.”
Viktor raised an amused brow, and Marko restrained himself from kicking his brother. Goaded, he dropped all pretense and the Russian language. “And who gave you permission to speak for the lady?”
Both Iris and her male friend became more alert. “You speak English?” Iris asked.
“Call security,” the man said.
“That would be a mistake.” Marko straightened his tie. “We mean you no harm. I swear I’m here because Irina was my cousin. And now Aunt Tatiana is upstairs, and she wants to meet you.”
“Tatiana?” Iris said in a small voice. Her pale brown eyes widened in what appeared to be awe. Apparently, she’d heard tales of Tatiana.
“Iris, you don’t know this guy. This could all be a ploy. Call security and have their passports verified.”
“You may do so,” Marko said. “But I think you will regret calling extra attention to us or why we are here. We followed your father after he visited us in St. Petersburg.”
“Cosmo visited you?” the man asked. He didn’t seem surprised that Cosmo had flown to Russia.
Viktor chose that moment to intervene. “It is best that we speak some place more private. Cosmo Fortune has taken something of great value from our aunt. We’ve come to reclaim it.”
Iris exchanged a look with her protector who in turn looked across the counter at Marko and his brother.
“I’m coming with her.”
Iris hated to admit she was grateful to have Mickey accompany her up the elevator as she faced another unknown. A cop. God, what had she done? She stole a quick glance at him. Weren’t there rules or something that prevented him from sleeping with witnesses or suspects or whatever she was? Her face warmed with the memory of how she’d thrown herself at him. Well, the first time. The second time, he’d definitely been the seducer.
God help her, it didn’t matter whether he was a thief or a cop. Either way, she liked him. She liked herself with him. Which was poetic justice, because with their track record, they didn’t have any future. With determination, she pushed Mickey Kincaid out of her thoughts.
Instead she contemplated the two mostly silent men who swore they were her relatives. Both in their late fifties with broad chests, Marko had a ruddy complexion while Viktor was pale as snow. First sisters, now cousins. But she couldn’t blame Cosmo for this lack of contact with her Russian relatives. Her mom must have made that choice-or at least agreed to it.
For the first time, it occurred to her that though her mother had always been present, she’d held herself at a cool distance. Cosmo, for all his disappearing acts, had praised her schoolwork and encouraged her creative endeavors. He would engage completely in her adolescent life for the few days he stuck around, then he’d be off on another adventure, leaving no clue as to where he’d gone.
No wonder she had trouble adjusting to the notion of all these new relatives appearing so suddenly in her life. How long were any of them going to stick around?
She followed the Gorseyev brothers into the Bellagio’s grandest suite. The expansive living room with its blue carpet and cherry furniture ended in large windows that framed the glorious view of the Strip.
Seated on a floral chintz sofa, Tatiana Gorseyev held court in her pink bouclé suit and high-collared white blouse. Iris doubted the woman was even five feet tall, and she was thin enough that an eagle could probably carry her off and feed her to its young.
“Come here, child, let me look at you. I won’t bite.”
Stepping forward, Iris was forcibly reminded of Red Riding Hood’s grandmother, a woman who looked passive and frail as she beckoned one forward, but was really a wolf in disguise. Upon closer inspection, Tatiana exuded a powerful presence undisguised by age, wrinkles or the heavy scent of roses.
Iris leaned down so her aunt could kiss one cheek and then the other.
Tatiana’s cool fingers lingered on her face. “So like your mother, I would have recognized you anywhere. Forgive me for not coming to see you sooner.”
“That’s all right. I didn’t even know-” She’d been about to say “you were alive,” but in truth, she’d thought her mother’s aunt simply didn’t care about her American-born great-niece.
Tatiana let the unfinished sentence hang as she trained a faded but hawkish eye on Mickey. “And who are you?”
“Michael Kincaid.”
She gave him a single approving nod before lifting a brow at Iris. “Your father said you were engaged.”
“Oh, I, er, that is-”
“No need to blush, my dear. You’ve chosen well for yourself. Young and virile.” She looked to Mickey again. “Cosmo said you were a lawyer or a politician or something.”
“I work in law, yes.” Mickey glanced down at his boots.
Iris stared. Had Mickey just avoided lying? He, who crafted stories with the agility of the devil’s own silver tongue, had he just told her great-aunt something that sounded like the truth? Not the whole truth and nothing but the truth, but that was for the best. Hi, Aunt Tatiana, so nice to meet you after all these years, and no, this isn’t my fiancé, this is the man I slept with last night before I broke up with my stable, sensible, reliable, dull fiancé.
No, that wasn’t going to play well with her new relatives. They’d think she was no better than her alley cat father. While that might be true, it was also demeaning.
So, while Mickey hadn’t lied, he’d left a general impression that he was her fiancé, but she’d let that slide. For now.
“Marko,” Tatiana barked. “Order a tea tray with cakes.”
“Don’t you think you should have lunch first? Maybe a sandwich?”
“I don’t want a sandwich!” She pounded her cane on the floor. “I want tea and cakes.”
Marko cast an apologetic glance at Iris. “The time change and jet lag has made her more irritable than normal.”
“I am never irritable. I’m hungry, and I want tea and cakes.”
Viktor quietly lifted a telephone handset to make the call.
“Aunt Tatiana, maybe you should lie down and rest until the tea arrives,” Marko suggested.
“Don’t be an ass. I’m not some imbecile who must sleep every five minutes. Iris needs to understand the legacy. Fetch the necklace.”
This time, Marko looked over at Mickey. “I’m not sure that’s wise.”
Tatiana’s voice lowered in volume, but her intensity commanded the room. “Do not question me.”
“Yes, aunt.” He fled into one of the adjoining bedrooms.
Tatiana patted the cushion beside her. “Sit with me, Iris. Please, both of you, sit.”