As I head down the staircase I can hear them in the Great Hall. Stefan compliments Robin’s rosy cheeks, says something about how nice it is to see life returning to the castle, that she must have brought the spring with her. Robin giggles—actuallygiggles—and I can picture her blushing faintly, ducking her head with pleased embarrassment.
My jaw tightens as I descend the stairs and enter the Hall. “Uncle Stefan. How lovely to see you.”
“I’ve been eager to see you,” he replies, turning to embrace me. In our own language, he adds, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t be here for the interment. Dimitri sends his condolences, of course.”
“Of course.”
“I’ll go down and pay my respects tomorrow, but I wanted to see you first.”
“That’s very kind of you,” I reply stiffly, and then add, “and Robin knows about it all, by the way, so you may speak freely about my father in her presence.”
He pulls back to look into my face, then glances over at Robin, and I see surprise in his eyes. “Is that so?” he asks. “Well, perhaps it’s good that you had someone here to comfort you.”
Yes. That’s all it was, this lapse of judgment. Tavern lunches and picnics and sleeping with my arms around another—just a need for comfort.
“I’ll let you rest before dinner,” I tell him in English, and then say quickly, as Robin sends me a hopeful look, “I have work to get on with in the meantime.”
I embrace Stefan again and then I try not to look like I’m hurrying away.
I wish I didn’t feel like such a coward.
At dinner, Stefan holds court with stories of Zoltan Novak—reminiscing about my father’s commanding presence, his sense of duty, his devotion to the Consortium’s legacy. Robin listens intently, occasionally meeting Stefan’s eyes across the table, nodding politely at his tales of the great man who shaped our family empire after the fall of the Soviet Union.
“He had such vision,” Stefan says, carving into his roast duck. “Such dedication to preserving what our grandfather built, while expanding with so many new opportunities. Everything he did was for the family, for the future.”
“He sounds like a remarkable man,” Robin offers softly.
“He was.” Stefan’s expression grows wistful. “I do wish I could have been here with you, Eva, when you interred his ashes.But as I said, I’d like to pay my respects tomorrow. Visit his memorial, maybe speak to some of the locals who remember him, if they were as fond of him as Robin says.”
Robin’s contribution to the conversation tonight was to talk glowingly of the villagers’ love for my father. Her face brightens now. “I’d be delighted to walk down with you, if you’d like. I know some of the villagers now, and they have such wonderful stories about the Novak family’s generosity over the years.”
Stefan’s smile deepens, taking on an almost paternal quality. “That would be wonderful, my dear. Thank you.”
I stab my fork into my duck a little harder than necessary, the silver scraping against porcelain. The easy way they connect, the natural warmth between them—it doesn’t feelfair.
Robin hasn’t been so at ease with me since…
Well, since Paris.
After dinner, Stefan and I retreat to my study for brandy and the real conversation. The fire crackles as we settle into the armchairs in front of it, and he swirls the brandy with approval in his crystal snifter.
“You’ve always been your father’s daughter, Eva,” he says softly, studying me over the rim of his glass. “But perhaps it’s time to remember what that means.”
The words carry an edge despite his gentle tone. “And what does it mean, exactly?”
“Duty before personal desire. The Consortium before individual wants.” Stefan’s eyes, so like my father’s, fix on mine with uncomfortable intensity. “Strength and focus.”
I sip my brandy as I consider my reply. “I assume this is leading somewhere specific.”
“There’s unrest in the Consortium,” Stefan says bluntly. “Whispers of discontent that even your recent European trips haven’t quelled. Some of the older families are questioning your priorities.”
“My priorities?” My voice drops to that dangerous tone that usually sends men twice Stefan’s size scrambling for cover.
“You’re spending so much time in America, and I can’t blame them for wonderingwhy. They think you’re forgetting the old alliances.” Stefan leans forward, his expression earnest. “The business requires your full attention now more than ever, Eva.”
“The businesshasmy full attention.”
“Does it?” Stefan’s voice softens with something like sympathy. “I can tell that’s not true.” He pauses, studying my face with the same analytical expression my father used to employ. “You cannot take your eyes off the American girl when she’s in the room. And when she’s not, you unconsciously look for her.”
