That makes me look at him. “You’re bringing Teddy in on this?”
“Of course. He’s trustworthy.”
“Does my father know?”
“Tatiana,” I hear my father from across the room. We both turn to look just as he’s walking over. He leans into me, touching the small of my back as he kisses my cheek gently. “You look lovely.” He then steps back and looks at my outfit. “Fashionably late, I see. Come on. Dinner’s starting. Viktor? Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
“Yes, sir,” he says. Then politely, he nods to me and says, “Nice to see you again, Tatiana.”
I watch him leave. There goes my safety net. My father leads me out of the living room and into the dining room where everyone’s already getting seated around our enormous dinner table. I take my spot on my father’s left side. As I sit, I notice Yanov has pulled my father aside and just under the din of conversation around us, I hear him say,“...matter to discuss after dinner.”Then even lower, he says something else, but his lips form my name.Tatiana.
I look away as they both turn back to the table. Shit… Yanov is such a frickin’ tattletale.
But wait… then that means I’m probably right. He wouldn’t go to my father about my snooping if he wasn’t ready to provide proof. So, he does have the journal on or around him somehow. I just need to find it before he talks to my father.
All through dinner,I’ve been scheming, trying to figure some way to get to that journal before Yanov has a chance to tell my father I’d been snooping.
At the same time, I’m doing my best to keep up with the conversations around me. I’m not required to speak or weigh in on any of these discussions, and in fact, it’s usually better if I don’t unless directly addressed.
I’m skilled at this kind of social thing. A lifetime of being my father’s ornament has taught me that for all intents and purposes, I’m invisible unless someone means to use a conversation with me to appease or interest my father in some way.
He’s Pakhan, after all. I’m just his daughter.
“Dinner was delightful,” I hear someone say in Russian. “Is there dessert?”
“You’re too fat for dessert,” someone else responds, and the table erupts into laughter. I smile politely and glance down at my nearly empty plate.
“Tatiana,” my father says, “would you mind checking on Louisa? Let her know we’d like the desert course.”
“Yes, sir,” I say. I get up and immediately, I feel eyes on me. They’re trying not to look, trying to ignore me as I brush past them. I can feel them failing miserably.
Louisa stands at the counter lined with plates and plates of cake slices. “Almost done,” she says. “Just another minute or so.”
I just sigh and thank her, but I don’t leave. I really need a break from being in that room.
I go to the sliding door and out to the patio. The night air smells sweet as a cool breeze rushes past me. Scents from my father’s garden. Or rather, mymother’sgarden. As Nikita once told me, she’s the one who planted all those flowers in the first place.
Yanov talking to my father is a problem. Best-case scenario, I’ll be shoved back into my gilded cage. Only this time, I don’t think he’ll allow me out again until he’s decided where to ship me off for my own good. I could end up in a convent somewhere in Siberia before dawn comes.
I’ve got to find that journal. And now that I know Yanov’s plan, it’s more than likely somewhere close by…
Like his car.Oh, my God. Of course!He’s got a glove compartment with a lock on it in his car. It’s the perfect place to keep something close by and secure at the same time.
I walk back into the room as Louisa starts to walk to the dining room door with a tray of cakes. “Louisa?” She pauses, looking up at me expectantly. “Could you let my father know I went to the bathroom and I’ll be right back?”
She nods and leans, tray of cakes balanced on her arm. I’m only going to have a few minutes before my father starts to wonder where I’ve gone to. I need to act fast.
I rush off to the parlor, my heels clacking against the marble floors. When I get there, his coat is still hanging among the others. I search the pocket that has his car keys in it.
As I rush back through the halls toward the foyer, my heart is thumping hard in my chest. If a single person sees me, walks through the living room… sticks their head out… I’m so fucked.
I reach the door and with sweaty palms. I open it and rush out to the front steps. There are a dozen cars lined up in the circle drive, all pretty close to the same models, all black luxury cars.God, do they all shop at the same dealership?
I press the unlock button on the key fob, and the car at the end of the drive beeps, the blinkers and headlights signaling me through the dimness around me. I rush down the steps and practically run to the car.
The moment I open the passenger’s side door, I’m hit with the smell of Yanov’s cologne mixed with the leather scent of his seats. I slide in and close the door, hunkering down to keep myself hidden just in case.
The lock gleams at me in the darkness as I press the key button on the key fob. The car key flips out unceremoniously.Okay. Here goes nothing.
