Admiration flashed in him, although the emotion was so brief, she might’ve been mistaken.“I’ll contact you as soon as we learn anything.”
“Thank you.It doesn’t matter how late the hour.”Edwina rose before turning to Ivan and Gregory.“Was there anything I’ve missed?”
“Payment?”Ivan asked.
Mr.Roscoe sent Edwina a sly glance that had her spine straightening.“No payment.Instead, I want Edwina to work for me.”
“Me?”
“Yes, with training, you’ll make an excellent addition to my team.”
“I’m studying music,” Edwina said.“I’ve dreamed of it ever since I was a child.”
Roscoe slowly nodded, his golden gaze lingering.“I’d be willing to employ you on a part-time basis.”
“I’ll consider it,” Edwina said.
Ivan groaned.“Mikhail won’t agree.”
“We’ll have a discussion.”Edwina glared at Ivan before turning her ire on Gregory when he released an almost silent snigger.“Just as soon as we rescue his arse from Smirnoff.”
Once they arrived back at Mikhail’s home, she, Ivan, and Gregory went into planning mode.
“What is the best way to obtain a copy of Smirnoff’s house plans?Are they on public record?Who would have a copy?”she asked.
“My cousin works for Smirnoff’s architect,” Gregory said.“He told me he designed the house.He was proud of his work and miffed for not receiving credit.”
“Will he help us?”Edwina asked.
“I think so,” Gregory said.“The management likes to cut corners, and Rome disapproves.He’s biding his time while he searches for a better job.”
“Right, that’s your task,” Edwina said.“We need to speak with someone on Smirnoff’s staff, someone we can trust to give us accurate information and perhaps confirm Mikhail is at the estate.”
Ivan frowned.“I don’t know of anyone offhand, but I’ll put out feelers.”
“Perfect.”Edwina booted up the laptop Ivan had procured for her.She had no contacts but was skilled with computers and discovering information.If there was anything useful to find online, she’d uncover it soon enough.
18
Mikhailsleptfitfully,hisgut writhing with a warning of incoming danger.Nothing eventuated, and his low-level adrenaline had no way of dispersing, leaving him restless and edgy.He’d excused himself early from dinner, the atmosphere at the table thick enough to slice with a knife.Pavel, his brother-in-law, had glowered for the entire meal while Bridget jumped every time he’d paid the slightest attention to her.The others at the dinner table—relatives of varying degrees—had gawked throughout until he’d quivered with awareness and not in a healthy way.It was a rare specimen in a jar sensation, and he’d loathed every second.
His father-in-law showed off his perfect teeth and made Mikhail inwardly twitch.The others had smiled too, but not with the same wattage.Mikhail didn’t need to be a mind reader to understand that whacked dynamics filled this family.
His family now.
He’d eaten his roast beef slowly, surreptitiously waiting for everyone else to eat each food type before he consumed his plate’s contents.He took the same care with the water and the glass of red wine a server had poured for him because every instinct inside him cried danger.Mikhail spoke when spoken to and listened, gathering information to make sense of later.Instead, his mind muddled even more and drifted.
A woman’s face flitted through his thoughts.She wore a teasing come-hither smile, and seduction radiated in every slow flutter of her hands and sway of her hips.Every fiber of his being told him he was familiar with this woman, yet he couldn’t place her face.Did he have a mistress or a girlfriend on the side?The mystery woman evoked a profound reaction in him, emphasizing the brokenness of his marriage—the strangeness of his relationship with Bridget.Questions ate at him throughout his meal.
“How are the birthday preparations going?”Smirnoff asked his daughter.“Do you require more help?”
He’d asked Mikhail to call him Konstantine, and that jovial request had filled Mikhail with wariness.He distrusted this man.Something about Smirnoff screamed at him to run.But his head throbbed, and the lump on his skull was still sensitive, the persistent pain clouding his ability to reason clearly.The imaginary tiger—because who pictured a tiger all the time—lurked at the forefront of his mind with the woman, fretful and bristling with foreboding as if he’d become prey instead of a hunter on the prowl.
Smirnoff’s daughter fiddled with the ring on her left hand—the one he’d supposedly given her and didn’t recall.His quick glance took in the massive stone, and he barely held back his sneer of disgust.An obscenely large diamond, it was in-your-face massive.It was the ostentatious ring a gold digger would love to show off, flaunting its exquisite gleam and sparkle.The jewelry didn’t fit his fiancée, who seemed nice enough—quiet and biddable, well-behaved and polite, trained for social situations, and a credit to her parents.
The mystery woman popped into his mind again.This time her animated features radiated attitude and temper.Interest filled him as he prodded his memory while the tiger issued a low purr.The man beside him jolted, sending him a wide-eyed glance and edging away.Hell, not as quiet as he’d assumed.Mikhail silently chided the strange tiger.His senses were working, but a strange disconnect blindsided him, and that made him ultra-cautious.
“Everything is on schedule, Papa.”Bridget’s voice held a quiver, a tic of nerves, drawing Mikhail from his musing.This woman didn’t fit his vision of a wife.The feistier woman drifting into his memories brought more comfort and a trace of lust and wistfulness.He didn’t want an amiable wife.He wanted one who stood shoulder-to-shoulder with him and fought at his side.One who loved him yet wasn’t afraid to tell him when he was behaving like an overbearing dick.And for someone with a hole where his memories should be, he had many wants.
