Chapter 21

NADIA SIPPED THE excellent Frascati, a dry Italian white, Sari had said. More than a few sips might not be a bad idea, to black out the turmoil whirling a bruise-black tornado inside her.

The housekeeper had just set a silver tray with canapés and the drinks on the cocktail table. On her way out the door, she announced that dinner, ratatouille, was in the oven.

“Thank you, Bianca,” Sarika called to her.

The woman wished them both a good evening.

Their damask-covered wing chairs huddled together in a sunlit corner of Sari’s living room. The cushy earth-toned seats ought to soothe her fractured nerves, so why didn’t they? Oh, yes, the cinnamon color reminded her of the taste of Matt’s mouth on hers. Her stomach tightened, and she set down her wine. Dammit, when would the blasted man stop invading her thoughts?

“To answer your question, no, you can’t talk me out of going through with my impersonation. But how did they persuade you to go along with my scheme?”

Her friend laughed, more of a half-hearted chuckle. “They didn’t. Simon Byrne simply told me and asked if I’d lend you clothing. For what it’s worth, I said you were bonkers and called the whole lot of them idiots.”

High-handed jerks would be more accurate. Nadia nodded toward the bone-china tea service beside the wine bottle. “You’re not joining me?”

Her friend shook her head, but winced at the movement. She looked her cool and elegant self in a violet silk top and purple designer jeans, despite bandages and a metal walker that waited beside her like a skinny-legged service dog. “Pain pills, antibiotics, so no alcohol.” She stirred a spoonful of sugar into her cup.

“You can’t know how sorry I am this happened to you.” Only yesterday had Nadia learned the exact nature of the wounds Sari suffered. Bruises everywhere. Deep lacerations on her legs and more cuts on her left arm. A concussion from the impact on the balcony’s stone floor. “And poor Pascale…” Her voice faltered, but she forged on. “If I hadn’t hired those men—”

“Rubbish! Not a blinking thing of it was your doing. Sandor Cardona would’ve found another way to attack me. A car bomb. A sniper. I’d have died, and you and Matt would not have been there to sort out the mess. So enough groveling. Stefan drove me to visit Pascale’s family yesterday. I’ve arranged for them to accompany her casket home.”

Nadia nodded, unable to express her regrets further. Under escort, she too had visited the family. She was certain the royal family would provide more than transportation for the grieving family.

Her smile poignant, Sari lifted one shoulder in a shrug of dismissal. “And you moving my chair by the balcony window saved my life. The chair blocked most of the debris.”

“That’s what Matt said.” Nadia heaved a sigh, remembering. Dammit.

“Something has happened between you and Matt,” Sari said, one sculpted eyebrow raised. She held her cup and waited, the smile on her face indicating her satisfaction that she’d leaped into the opening Nadia provided by mentioning Matt.

Nadia’s distress must show on her face. She’d never been able to hide her emotions from her friend. “Modena Security would’ve shot us. He saved my life. We were on the run for nearly three days. Isn’t that enough?”

“Not half.” Sari leaned forward. “We’ve known each other since we were children. What are you not telling me? You know I’ll not stop.”

Nadia curled her lips inward and stared at her empty hands. Why not? Perhaps she’d feel better after ripping out the aching stone that was her heart. Then she could focus on what she’d face tomorrow. “I don’t want to ruin your friendship with Matt.”

Sari’s smile was indulgent as she lifted her teacup to her lips. “I can handle a few harsh truths, and he’s a big boy.”

Indeed he was. Nadia’s face grew warm. So did other, lower parts. She took a fortifying swallow of her wine. “Then I hope you’re comfortable, because this will take a while. It began five years ago when DARK was investigating my father.” She cradled the goblet in both hands and kept her gaze on the crimson contents as she related her sorry tale. Sari asked a few questions and murmured understanding or sympathy occasionally, but otherwise made no comments. Nadia finished with her discovery that he’d recorded her call to her dad. She looked up. “He spied on me. So you see why I can’t trust him.”

“I see why you were reluctant to become involved with him this time and why you’re angry now. What I see in Matt is an honorable man whose agency is extremely important to him, and not merely as a job. He believes in the mission of DARK, in protecting this country.”

“I know that. His colleagues are his friends, his family. His only family.” Suddenly aware of how tightly she gripped the goblet, she set it down.

“I see you do know. So why then do you suppose he “spied” on you, as you put it?”

Nadia’s chest tightened. They’d worked together after fleeing the embassy, and he seemed to trust her, even left her alone to join him. Then at the hotel, he comforted her and they made love. She came up with only one reason for the spying. Even thinking that word now brought bile up her throat. “DARK ordered him to.”

“Exactly. He argued that you were trustworthy, but in the end, complied. Tell me again what he did when the bomb exploded and Security fired on you.”

Silence weighted the air between them.

Nadia met her regal gaze. “He got me out of the building and we fled.”

Every inch her island country’s trade negotiator, the princess held her head straighter. “And did he not then break every rule and every regulation — regs, as he would say — to go on the run with you, to protect you from Security and the FBI, from the rebels, from interrogation?”

“Yes, yes, yes, he did all that. He risked everything. But he lied to me about recording my call to Dad. He’d sworn he didn’t come on to me to spy on me, and…” She couldn’t continue without another drink of wine to cool her throat. As she drank, an incongruity niggled at her brain. “Sari, how do you know about Matt’s orders and what happened?”

“From another rule breaker, of course.” She waved away the protest on Nadia’s face. “Why do you think Matt played the recording?”

Nadia didn’t know the answer, so said nothing.

Sari sipped her tea and waited.

Nadia pressed the heels of her hands to her tired eyes. DARK had ordered Matt to spy on her in spite of his protests. He knew from everything she’d done that she was trustworthy. But Harris and some others did not. “To prove my honesty, my loyalty?”

“Spot on. This morning, he pushed for more protection for you. And didn’t he also try to stop you from risking your life? He’s hurting as much if not more than you are.”

Matt stretched out at his desk, booted feet propped on an open drawer, head back on his laced fingers, eyelids half shut. He blew out a breath and rolled his shoulders, the muscles cramping from his show of relaxation. His arms ached with the urge to punch something.

Across the room, Cole Stratton conferred with Thorne and the other officer whose name escaped him about their roles tomorrow. They would stand a little behind Nadia on the dais, on either side, a prime vantage point for spotting trouble. Ready to hustle her away. They were already added to the official guest list as recent big donors the princess had invited. The set-up seemed workable.

And yet it could still all go to shit. If Nadia got… hurt, it would be Brussels all over again. His mind flashed on the mangled bodies of Nashota and Malik. He wouldn’t let that happen to Nadia.

A few minutes later, the two officers filed out. Thorne sketched him a salute and Matt returned it.

Stratton was keying in something, probably a report on the meeting.

Matt dropped his feet to the floor, rose and crossed the room. “Thorne isn’t the right guy for this, Cole.”

Stratton stopped typing and folded his hands on the desk. “And you know this how?”

“He’s too new. He doesn’t know everybody. He might mistake one of ours for a goon. He hasn’t been around long enough to be down with how we operate.”

“Thorne’s a professional, came to us from the U.S. Marshal Service. And he’s up to speed. That it?” Stratton’s expression said he knew it fucking wasn’t it.

Matt clenched his fists behind his back. Going for nice and reasonable. “Look, you can still reconsider. Why not assign me to be on the dais with Nadia? She’s angry with me, sure, but she knows damned well I’ll protect her. She—”

“Nice try, but forget it. I got no worries about Thorne, and neither does the director. You, I’m not so sure about. And Nadia’s lightyears more than angry. She would put a bullet in you herself if somebody gave her a gun.”

Matt scrambled for more reasons, but Stratton held up a hand. “Give it up. I understand how you feel.” He looked away for a moment, a muscle ticking in his jaw like he was remembering pain. “I was there once, a long time ago, only I was the one betrayed. Yeah, I know you’re not at fault. You were doing your job.”

“Hell, thanks for that anyway.” He wasn’t finished yet. He’d be there, watching, with the other officers, and he’d fucking take down Cardona or whoever his shooter was. He turned to go.

“In fact, it’s probably better if you’re not even at the ribbon cutting.” Stratton’s words spun Matt back around. “I’m assigning you to the team picking up Alina Greco.”