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“As if I would leave the love of my life, the man of my dreams, and pain in my very generous ass.”
Before the conversation can devolve, I clear my throat. “Lina told me that she left Russia twenty-five years ago in a cargo plane in the dead of night with suitcases filled with cash and jewelry.”
“That suggests someone helped them,” Alexey comments.
“She didn’t ask me to dig into the mystery and has no desire to discover what they were running from, but—”
“Your intuition is buzzing, and you can’t let it go,” Alexey finishes.
“Yes.” I set the cup down on a small table. “What are the terms of the will? How will they determine if the right woman comes forward?”
“DNA,” Gianna answers. “The oligarch left a sample with his attorney, and whoever makes a claim against the estate must be tested.”
“How many people will make an attempt on her life before that happens?”
“Dozens and dozens,” Gianna answers before sipping her coffee. “Papa Tarasov left his beloved daughter his bank accounts in the Caymans as well as the contents of a safety deposit box. Is that five dollars or five hundred million? No one knows or cares because the real estate holdings are substantial enough to put her life in danger.”
“This woman needs a fierce protector because right now, she’s chum in a school of sharks,” Alexey comments before studying his phone.
“If you can get a sample of Lina’s hair, I can run it against the Tarasov’s DNA.” She slides her finger over a monitor. “I copied the will as well as the government records on the family so it should be a snap.”
“Thanks for the offer, but I’ll pass for now. Lina wants to live in obscurity, so I don’t need to put her into a spotlight she has no interest in.”
“Chivalrous. I’d expect nothing less.” She slides a picture out. “I dug into all the known relatives because the information is never locked in the most obvious box and discovered that Anastasia’s grandmother has been keeping tabs.”
“So the Tarasovs have known where the mother and daughter landed all along.” I scrape my hand over my neck. “Somehow, that information must’ve come to light. How else would the suitors know where to begin looking.”
“I came to the same conclusion,” Gianna answers as she holds out a picture. “I hacked into the agency the grandmother used and found a photo taken six months ago.”
I take it and feel my heart drop through my stomach. “Shit.”
“Is it the seamstress?”
Nodding, I stare at the image and wonder exactly how complicated my life is about to become.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Lina
No matter how prepared you think you are, it’s never enough.
The envelope on the table feels radioactive, yet I can’t help from touching the name on the corner. Olga Tarasov. My grandmother. Someone I didn’t know existed until an hour ago.
Is this the woman that smelled like peppermint? Drawn into the past, I sift through pictures in my memory bank and wish I could tell the difference between real memories and fabricated ones.
“Ugh.” I shake out my hands and look around my room. “There will be time for that later. Right now, make some choices.”
A sharp knock against the door makes my heart stop. “Shit.” I step over a pile of clothes and creep toward the front door. “They couldn’t be here already.”
Another impatient knock.Definitely not opening that.
I walk backward slowly and pray that whoever it is can’t hear my footsteps against the wood floor.
“Lina. Open the door. It’s Yuri.”
“Damn it.” Pressing my hands against my stomach, I suck in a breath.
“I’m not leaving.”
