Charade (11 page)

The man was visibly unimpressed. “Surrender your handbag and coat to my soldiers so that they may be searched with the rest of your belongings.”

“Okay.” She handed her purse to one of the guards, then took off her black cashmere coat and proffered it, as well.

The contemptuous man eyed what was left, namely Sasha’s boots, black skirt and gray silk blouse. She was pretty sure he intended to frisk her. The question was
,
would she allow it? He didn’t seem interested in her sexually, but still, the thought of his hands on her bare legs was downright creepy. Why couldn’t she have worn jeans or slacks?

“Surrender your boots.”

She moistened her lips,
then
nodded, trying not to show how relieved she was that he hadn’t tried to remove them himself. Moving to one of the ornate wooden benches that lined the arched hallway, she sat down, unzipped each boot, and handed them over. Then she stood and said coolly, “That’s as far as I go, sir. You can pat me down in a civilized manner if you must, but don’t even
think
about anything else.”

“Nothing else will be necessary,” a new voice assured her, and she turned to stare into a pair of confident black eyes belonging to a tall, well-built man in a dark green uniform. His broad chest was covered with glittering medals, but he didn’t need them to tell her he was a born leader.

Vlados Zelasko—she recognized his chiseled features from his photos.
President.
Dictator.
Supreme Commander of the Realm.

Generalissimo.

“You did not expect to be searched?” he asked coolly.

She wanted to give a witty reply—something about having left her Uzi in her other boots—but her mouth was too dry, so she just locked gazes with him and said nothing.

“You are angry?”

Try terrified,
she suggested silently, wondering where he was headed with this line of questioning. Did he think it mollified her? Or maybe he was mocking her. It didn’t really matter. She had no response for either.

“Speak,” he commanded.

“What is there to say? You gave your word to my father that I would be protected. Not manhandled and insulted.”

“What man has handled you? What insult has been made?”

“What protection has been offered?” she retorted. “Your sister invited me. If you don’t want me here—”

“You will come with me,” he interrupted, turning away from her and striding down the long, stone hallway.

He didn’t glance backward, and she knew exactly why not. He was sure that she would follow. That she wouldn’t dare disobey.

And he was absolutely right.

Zelasko led her to a small sitting room with no windows,
then
he motioned to a red velvet settee. “Be comfortable.”

“Thanks.” She sat, crossing her legs at the ankles, conscious of her stocking feet.

“So.”
He appraised her openly. “You are here.”

Sasha nodded.

“But before here, you were in Rome. Why is that?”

She cleared her throat,
then
reminded him, “I’m Italian.”

“You are American.”

“Italian-American.
And my father has a network of colleagues in Rome . He’s passionate about my safety. So am I,” she added with a wry smile.

Zelasko seemed unamused. “Why are you here?”

“Like I said, your sister invited me. But I’m also representing my father, Franco Bracciali, at the conference.”

“No other reason?”

She hesitated,
then
flashed a warmer smile.
“The truth?
I want to go to the ball. It’s the last of its kind.
Dignitaries from four continents.
Gowns.
Jewels.
Flash.
It’s what I live for.”

“And yet you had no interest in it until this week.”

Sasha winced. “That’s not true. I had plenty of interest. It’s just—” she spread her hands in front of herself expressively “—I didn’t want to ask my father for a favor. I don’t expect you to understand why, but—”

“You were estranged from him?” Zelasko arched an eyebrow. “That is the correct word?”

“Yes. That’s the perfect word. We were estranged.”

“And now you are not? That is convenient,” he drawled. “Tell me why you are so nervous.” Before Sasha could respond he added bluntly, “Tell me about this Athena Academy that you attended.”

Oh no.

Rising slowly to her feet, she forced herself to glare into his dark eyes. “I’m nervous because of the way your men treated me. And now you! A famous dictator who can have me thrown into a dungeon any time he wants. I’m at your mercy, General Zelasko. That’s not something I’m used to. Where I come from, no one would dare interrogate me this way.”

She took a deep breath,
then
continued. “My relationship with my father is none of your business. And why do you care what schools I attended? If you’re worried I can’t design a dress for your sister, think again. It’s my profession and I’m very good at it.”

A slender man stepped from the shadows and asked quietly,
“Prezydente?”

Zelasko waved him away,
then
turned back to Sasha. “Sit down, Miss Bracciali. You are making my men as nervous as they made you.”

She hesitated,
then
returned to her seat.

“It is a school for girls, is it not? I am told it is many hundred miles from your home. Why did you choose it?”

“I didn’t choose Athena Academy, it chose me,” Sasha said with a weary sigh. “It’s by invitation only. They contacted my mother and she thought it would be a good experience for me. She was right.”

“They choose their students based on special abilities, do they not? What is your special ability?”

“I had high test scores, but I think it was my artistic ability that caught their eye.” She cleared her throat again. “Could I get a drink of water? I did a lot of traveling today, and my throat is parched.”

“I am told you enjoy champagne,” he replied,
then
he turned to the man in the shadows. “Nikko?
Szampam, zyb!
”

Nikko clicked his heels and exited the room.

“Thanks.” Sasha smiled. “My most relevant education is from the School of Design, you know. I graduated at the top of my class—”

“I am interested in the Athena Academy only. Tell me about your training there.
Martial arts and firearms, yes?”

“It wasn’t a
military
academy, if that’s what you think. It was a classical blend.
A sound mind in a sound body.
That sort of thing.
I took the regular subjects, plus some additional foreign languages and lots of art classes.”

“I am told that the students form groups named after gods and goddesses. What was the name of your group?”

Sasha arched an eyebrow. “You’re very well-informed,
General
. My group was the Muses.
Because three of us were artists of one type or another.
A dancer, a singer—”

“You enjoyed it?”

“The school?
I adored it,” she admitted wistfully. “It was so different from the world I knew, and even though I felt like an outsider sometimes, I was still grateful for the opportunity. They widened my worldview—made me believe I could be anything I wanted to be. And then they encouraged me to apply to design school, which
really
changed my life forever.” She paused to accept a tall crystal goblet of champagne from a tray Nikko had brought to the room. “Thanks. This looks yummy.”

Zelasko took a glass, too, and offered a quick toast in Kestonian, adding quietly, “Continue.”

“Okay, where was I? Oh right, design school.
Those
were the most important years of my life. If only my mother hadn’t died while I was there, it would have been perfect.”

“She was murdered, was she not?”

Sasha took a sip of champagne,
then
nodded.

“And you suspected your father? So you became estranged? But suddenly, you have forgiven him. That is convenient.”

“So you said before.” She set her glass on a nearby table,
then
gave him a stern look. “I’ll admit it. I wanted to attend this ball so much, it made my heart ache. I even had a picture of you in your uniform tacked to the wall of my bedroom because the articles in my fashion magazines captured my imagination so completely. But my pride wouldn’t let me ask Dad for help. Not until this weekend when we attended the wedding of an old family friend. It brought back so many memories….”

She paused to accentuate the catch in her voice. “I saw the bride dancing with her father—my uncle—and I realized that I couldn’t bear it if Dad and I didn’t find a way to patch things up before
my
wedding day arrived. I knew Dad had to be feeling the same way, too. And suddenly it seemed like the perfect time. Not just because of the ball. But
I’ll admit, that was a factor
.
Because, like I said, this may be my one chance to ever attend such a regal extravaganza.”

Zelasko stared for a moment, and she was sure he was about to hit her with another accusation. But instead, he murmured, “My photograph was on the wall of your bedroom?”

Sasha bit back a smile. “Do you want to see it? It’s in my purse. The one your men took—”

“Nikko!” Zelasko issued a quick order,
then
assured Sasha, “It will be only a minute.”

“Thanks, General.” She licked her lips. “The picture’s pretty wrinkled. I’ve had it for almost two months, and carried it across the ocean with me. So don’t expect much.”

He hesitated,
then
suggested, “You may call me by my given name. It is Vlados.
Or Vlad, if you prefer.”

“Okay, but…” She bit her lip. “I’ve never known a general before. It’s kind of fun calling you that, if you don’t mind.”

She loved the glow of pride and vanity in his eyes, signaling that the interrogation had finally taken a turn for the better. If only she had thought to pull out that crumpled picture right away! Thank God she was enough of a pack rat to have kept the January issue of her design magazine an extra month.

Nikko returned with the purse, and Zelasko took it from him, digging unceremoniously until he found the picture. Then he smiled with satisfaction. “It is a good likeness.”

“You’re just what American girls dream about.
A handsome prince in a faraway land holding a fancy dress ball.
I’m sure I’m not the only one who saved that picture. Of course for me,” she added teasingly, “it was purely for professional reasons.”

Zelasko grinned. “I see you are no longer nervous.”

“The champagne helped,” she quipped. “And it helps to see that my purse is still in one piece.”

He handed it to her, his expression now solemn. “We searched only for weapons. Your privacy was not disturbed. You will find the rest of your luggage in your room. A servant will unpack the cases for you if you wish.”

“Thanks.
And my boots?”

Zelasko glanced at her feet. “My men consider the boots a security risk. They will be returned to you at the termination of your visit.” He paused to give Nikko a quick order,
then
explained, “Colonel Kerenski will find something else for your feet. I am aware that the stone floor is cold.”

“Thanks.”

He stepped closer, staring down into her eyes with warm interest. “You will rest for a while. Then you will dine with me. That is acceptable?”

“It’s an honor,” she murmured despite the warning bells clanging in her brain. She recognized Zelasko’s aroused look all too well. It was the same one Carmine had had when he’d asked her to dance at the wedding. It was never good news, especially for a woman alone in a foreign dictatorship. With the dictator himself, no less!

She was grateful to Nikko for returning quickly with three pairs of sturdy, oxford-esque shoes in varying sizes.

“Oh, good!”
She eyed them critically, wondering if even the largest of them would fit her. “Kestonian women must have small feet,” she murmured, reaching for the most promising candidates.

“Our women are known for that,” Zelasko confirmed.

Unwilling to ask for an even larger pair—wouldn’t that put the reputation of American women into question?—Sasha forced her feet into the biggest shoes,
then
gave a pained smile.

Luckily, Zelasko had been distracted by the ringing of a cell phone in his jacket pocket. Answering in Kestonian, he frowned,
then
barked something unintelligible.

“Maybe I should just go,” Sasha whispered to Nikko, but Zelasko motioned for her to stay.

Then he said, “You may be of assistance with this matter. Be seated again. Please.”

“Okay.” She sank back onto the settee. “How can I help?”

“You recognize the name Shannon Conner?”

Silently imploring her weary brain to keep up with the day’s events, Sasha nodded. “She’s a reporter for ABS news. And she was a student at Athena Academy for a short while. But she left before I got there, so I never met her. Why do you ask?”

“She and her associates with cameras are standing at our border requesting admission. She wishes to give news coverage of the ball.”

Sasha winced. She didn’t know much about Shannon, other than the fact that the reporter had been a consistent thorn in the paw of Athena Academy because of her insistence on trying to ruin the school’s reputation. Still, Shannon had rocketed to fame on the basis of sensationalistic stories and an amazing ability to be in the right place at the right time, newswise.

“My question to you,” Zelasko said, his tone imperious, “is whether I should allow this? She will put my country into the eye of America. I desire such publicity. But can I rely on her to be discreet?”

Shannon Conner in Kestonia?
Sasha had no doubt
that
was a bad idea. But she wasn’t about to trade on Zelasko’s fledgling trust in her opinion, so she told him, “I’m a big fan of Shannon Conner, General. I mean, Vlados.” She flashed a flirtatious smile. “Her stories are the best.
Full of drama and intrigue and innuendo.
Plus, she and I have something in common, because I’ve heard she felt like an outsider at Athena Academy, too.
Poor thing.
I actually admire the fact that she left the school rather than just kowtow to them. She’s been sort of an antihero to me for years.”