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“I did not say.” Ivan paused, as if finding the question disdainful. He ate a few more spoonfuls of soup. “Alex and I are business partners,” he finally said. His Russian accent saturated his words with a harsh, staccato tone.
Bryce’s gaze bounced between Alex and Ivan. “And what type of industry are you both in?”
Despite the stress of the moment, Kira’s stomach rumbled. Eating gave her something to do with her hands. Etiquette dictated that she not dip her roll and sop up the amazing soup, so she substituted her desire with dainty bites. Was it rude to ask millionaires for a recipe? She stared at her plate to avoid eye contact with Ivan.
Alex handed his empty bowl to the server. “I am an attorney, and Ivan is my private investigator.”
Interesting and potentially true. Kira assumed these men wouldn’t give any information to two strangers that wasn’t shrouded in lies. They may have sent Ivan to scout the statue.
Or kill off the competition.
“But I’m also a patron of the arts.” Ivan turned his attention to Kira. Again. And this irritated her more than nails on a chalkboard. Did he recognize her or not? The uncertainty was killing her.
The scent of the main course hit Kira before she received the plate from the server. Beef stroganoff with potatoes in a cream sauce. Her mouth watered.
Ivan steepled his fingers together in front of him. “What pieces are you interested in?”
“I work for a private collector,” Bryce said. “His name is Levi Solinger. A hedge-fund manager by day, but a gallery owner in his spare time. It’s an exclusive place, and he owns an exquisite collection. Private showings only. I’ve curated Rembrandts, Velázquez, and even a Caravaggio. The rarer the find, the better. Right now he’s going through a bit of a Russian phase, trying to track down some of the prized art pieces that went missing during the war. I’m hoping to score a prime piece and earn a nice commission.”
Name drop completed. If anyone at the table googled Levi Solinger, they’d find a fake profile of the elusive, eccentric billionaire art collector from Manhattan.
Sophia not so discreetly checked her phone, hopefully verifying the bait they’d dangled.
Ivan cleared his throat and locked his laser-focused gaze on Kira. “So, Katrina. Tell me. Since your boss is interested in Russian art, you must have a theory or opinion as to what happened to the mysterious and elusive Amber Room? So many art lovers have speculated, but everyone comes up empty-handed.”
Bryce scoffed. “Well, that’s a loaded question.” He glanced at Kira as if to offer a lifeline in the conversation, but she’d read up on the subject earlier, at least enough to bluff her way through it.
“Yes, it is one of the world’s most elusive treasures,” she said. “It’s a shame that the Nazis dismantled the room and tried to ship it out of the country. Most historians think the treasure sank at sea.”
“I’d like to hear your theory on the missing treasure,” Bryce said, watching Ivan across the table.
Alex scowled. “Ivan and his theories. Such nonsense.”
The man leaned back in his chair and stroked his goatee. “Ah, I just love a good conspiracy theory conversation now and then.”
“Ivan always likes to start a debate,” Alex said with a roll of his eyes. “Just ignore him.”
“Oh, but I’d be interested to hear Mr. Sokolov’s conspiracy theories on the Amber Room.” Kira leaned toward Ivan. “I love a mystery, especially an unsolved one. An entire room of missing treasure, probably worth hundreds of millions of dollars today, just disappeared off the face of the earth. Without a trace. What do you think happened?”
Ivan paused and steepled his fingers in front of his mouth. “Like you said, it probably sank at sea. But the Nazis had packed the treasure in multiple crates. Twenty-seven in total, I believe.”
“I guess it would be hard to keep track of all the crates,” Kira said.
“Yes.” Ivan took a sip of his White Russian—his third, based on Kira’s count. “Imagine, if you will, what would have happened if one crate were sold, or stolen? I’ve heard a few art dealers speculate about secret art galleries, hoarding stolen art in the name of preserving it.”
Bryce scoffed. “Like some sort of vigilante Robin Hood of the art world? Is there proof?”
Ivan smiled. “Mainly rumors and speculation. But if someone were sitting on a repository of missing treasures, it would be the biggest find of the century.” He shot Kira what appeared to be a quick wink. Had anyone else noticed or was she imagining things?
Bryce seemed enthralled by the conversation. “If a stockpile of treasure like that existed, someone would have leaked the information. There would be evidence to indicate a missing crate.”
“You of all people know what a collector will do to secure their private possessions.” Ivan kept his gaze on Kira, and she fought the urge to squirm. He definitely recognized her.
Alex huffed and stood. “Let’s move this discussion of dark tales of the art underworld to the sitting room for some after-dinner drinks. Ivan has many theories that almost never pan out.”
Everyone stood and followed their host to the living room area. Bryce escorted Kira and then asked Alex for directions to the restroom. Their host whispered to the butler to show him the way.
Kira blinked. He picked now to snoop around? She smothered a snort. Probably not a bad idea. Their cover would most likely be blown after this disastrous dinner party, so why not get as much information as he could?
