“Well, maybe you won’t have to do any more interviews,” I suggested with saccharine sweetness.
“Most unlikely,” Olga sneered. “This is the wedding of the century. The press are insatiable.”
“Then you’re still planning on being part of the wedding party? I’m so glad.” I tried to sound both sincere and chirpy. I’m not sure how successful I was at it.
Olga gave me a very unfriendly look over the rim of her water glass. “My father has reminded me that it is a great honor and my duty to be part of the wedding.” Ah, duty. But was it her duty to celebrate it, or destroy it?
“Natasha?” I made it a question.
“I will not let fear control me. We have skilled guards to protect us. These…”—she paused, searching for the right word in English—“villains will not succeed.”
“Oh good. I’m so pleased. I was afraid I was going to have to talk the two of you into going through with it, but apparently you’re already on board.” I was smiling so hard my face was starting to hurt.
We were interrupted by the waiters bringing in the soup and salad course. For me, consommé and a bowl of applesauce. I waited until the waiters left before continuing. “The two of you probably know that my cousin has put me in charge of getting the bridesmaids’ dresses.”
They didn’t answer, just stared at me. Natasha’s face was expressionless. Olga’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. She didn’t like that news. Not a bit. I think she believed she could work her way around Adriana. I wasn’t so sure about that, but I did know that she knew she wouldn’t get around me.
“I’ve brought a computer with me. After we finish dinner, you can look at the dresses I’m considering and we can make a final decision.”
After that, dinner was strained. There wasn’t much in the way of conversation. Really, what was there to say? So I concentrated on enjoying my food, which really was excellent, and hoped Gilda Levy wasn’t getting too bored, waiting for the other women to speak.
When the last of the dessert plates were cleared away, I pulled out my netbook and hit the keys to begin the holographic fashion show that Dawna, Gilda, and I had worked so hard on this afternoon.
There were a lot of dresses. Thirty in all, selected from the websites of various designers and high-end bridal shops. We’d arranged it so not one of the images showed where the gown came from. I wanted the selection to be made on merit, not name. Every dress was pretty, demure, and designed to look good with a jacket. I’d insisted on that, because even during the wedding I intended to be armed. A few of the dresses were knee length, most were floor length. There was silk and satin aplenty, beading and lace. Every one of them was available in purple, a color I was sticking with because (a) it looked good on all three of us; and (b) Adriana had approved it.
“No.” Olga slammed her palm onto the table, making the remaining silverware clatter. She glared at me. “None of these will do. Absolutely not.”
“I like the third one quite a bit,” Natasha said with a quiet firmness that surprised me.
Olga didn’t glare at the other woman; she was too shocked. She turned to her, wide-eyed, and spoke in rapid Ruslandic, which my hidden friend helpfully translated.
“What are you doing? We agreed!”
“Perhaps I’ve changed my mind. Adriana has done nothing to harm us and we owe this one our lives. Are you not woman enough to admit that perhaps the men were wrong?”
“Idiot. Those men were not shooting at us. It was the sirens they were trying to kill. It’s been all over the news.”
“A stray bullet can be as deadly as an aimed one. Think of the woman who waited on us in that shop. She was not a target, but she was killed just the same. Her only crime was having little taste.”
“Adriana is controlling our king with her siren abilities.”
“Perhaps my father believes that. I do not. The king wears a charm, just as we do.” Natasha wasn’t budging on this. Her eyes had begun to flash with real anger and her chin was thrust forward aggressively.
“Your father…” Olga was apparently trying to play her trump card. It didn’t work.
“Is wrong. He has not met the princess. Either of them.”
Well, well, well. Wasn’t that just fascinating? Still, if I didn’t say something, and quickly, they might get suspicious. So I widened my eyes in mock innocence and said with a smile, “I liked the third one, too.” It was even the truth. The dress was simple purple silk with a sweetheart neckline and ruching at the side. It flowed in a beautiful A-line down to a floor-length hem. It was simple, elegant, and would look good on all three of us. “Olga, you’re outvoted. Dress number three it is.”
“I refuse. I will not wear that.” She didn’t slam her palm on the table this time. Instead, she rose to her feet in a huff that I could tell was mostly hot air.
I merely shrugged at her display. “Fine. No problem. It’s a shame you’ll miss out on being part of the wedding of the century. But hey, I’m sure your father will understand you foregoing your duty when you explain that it’s because you didn’t like the dress.”
She turned on me in real fury. “You wouldn’t dare!”
My smile was more than a little bit predatory, but for the first time this evening I wasn’t faking it at all. I’m pretty sure my teeth showed. “Oh, but I would. Now, are you in or out?”
“I will be speaking to the king about your insolence,” she announced before turning on her heel and flouncing out with her guards hurrying to catch up.
“Go for it,” I called. “He already knows I’m insolent.” If she heard, she ignored me.
17
It was late. I was tired. Dealing with difficult people wears me out more than just about anything else. I also didn’t want to go home until the secret service types had gone over the estate with a fine-toothed comb. Call me crazy, but staying somewhere nice and anonymous, where no one would know where to look for me, sounded like a really nice idea. So I told Gilda, Isaac, and Dawna, via my jewelry, thanks, have a good night and see you in the morning, said the words to end the spell, and rented myself a suite at a nearby hotel that I’d used for clients more than once. Griffiths contacted his superiors, who sent reinforcements to stand guard until morning. I made a couple of calls to let my friends know I was okay, sent an e-mail arranging for the dresses to be delivered to Isaac’s shop, filled out my breakfast order and hung it on the door of the suite, stripped, and fell into bed.
I slept well, better than I had in quite a while. No nightmares, not the recent ones, not any of the old standbys that recur when I am stressed. Let’s hear it for utter exhaustion! I woke feeling rested, which was a nice change of pace. After a long, luxurious bath and a room-service breakfast, I brushed my teeth, put on more new clothes that were examples of Isaac’s tailoring skills, and was actually looking forward to the new day.
My optimism lasted all of ten minutes—until I called the office. I had three messages from Laka. The first let me know first, that Okalani was with her and safe, and second, that she, Laka, was very grateful. The next two were increasingly frantic. Her daughter had bolted. Had I heard anything?
I swore long and hard. Damn it to hell. Couldn’t the kid just stay put for twenty-four damned hours? I’d talked to Rizzoli. He was going through channels. I had no doubt that everybody on our side wanted the information Okalani had and would be more than willing to deal with the kid to get it. But damn it, we were dealing with multiple agencies from multiple countries. That takes time.