Her Russian Hero (International Romance Series) (32 page)

She described how two reporters
photographed them as they came out of her room and how Sergei got incensed and
ran after them forgetting about the restaurant and the money.

“A big fight took place in the
lobby. Five guards attacked the Major General at the same time. He is an
incredible hero,” she affirmed with as much pride as a true Belarusian-born.
“He knocked them all down. But Roussov called for the police and more
reinforcements. He kept on goading Sergei. Could you believe Colonel Roussov
had the guts to thank me for helping him put Sergei away?” She slapped her hand
on her thigh.

The Minister of Defense sprang up
from his chair. His colleague from the environment chuckled then cleared his
throat. The Vice-President remained unmoved but his eyebrows shot up.

Cecile shrugged. “Sergei punched
him. I’m sure you would you have done the same, gentlemen.”

She clenched her fingers and
waited. She’d finished her tale, the whole truth and—almost—nothing but the
truth. Now she needed to conclude and influence their decision. “Gentlemen, the
pictures taken last night could be detrimental for everybody. Please, stop the
press before these pictures get published. Clear the Major General who is
innocent of all this mess.”

She turned her head toward the
Vice-President but could read no expression on the harsh lines that surrounded
his mouth and underlined his eyes. He considered her for a moment. “Fedorin
couldn’t hire a better lawyer.”

She started to smile.

“Too bad you did not apply this
good reasoning before you destroyed the
Major
Generalle
.”

“Sir, please…”

“Miss Lornier, I will ask
Minister Letovin to see you out. The Mister of Defense and I need to discuss
the situation.” His tone brooked no argument.

The Minister of Environment stood
and held her arm. “Dr. Lornier allow me to accompany you to our Vice-President’s
limousine.”

“Miss Lornier.” The
Vice-President’s voice rang ominous in the silence. She pivoted toward him, a
question in her eyes. “Justice will be done…at all levels.”

The Minister of Environment led
her out of the mansion and bowed over her hand. “I hope things will not be as
bad as we expect them to be,” he said with kindness.

She shuddered at the strange
encouragement and slid into the backseat of the limousine. The driver started
the engine. “
Hotel Nievol
?”

“
Niet, circa
. The red
church.”

He turned his head toward the
backseat. “
Circa
?” he asked as if he couldn’t believe his ears.

“
Da, da. Circa
. Now. Go,”
she insisted.

Looking ill-at-ease, the man
nodded and drove. While riding with Tania, Cecile had often admired the four
round towers delineating the corners of the medieval cathedral. Sergei had
described it as the jewel of Minsk. Now was a good time to visit it. The
tranquil serenity of the empty church would still the churning of her heart and
restore peace to her tormented mind.

The limousine stopped at the
curb. Cecile hopped out and rushed toward the church. She pulled open the heavy
sculpted door. Remembering her French grandma’s pertinent advice to make a wish
when visiting a church for the first time, she halted before crossing the
threshold. Her eyes tightly shut, she murmured her most wistful desire through
gritted teeth and resolutely stepped inside.

Inside the huge church shrouded
in dimness, the scent of burnt candlewicks and melted wax wafted toward her.
Cecile turned her head to the right. Against a blue lapis column, a large
painting of the Virgin and Child, illuminated by a multitude of candles peeking
from a metallic box, beckoned for her attention. Cecile deciphered the Russian
letters and name, Our Lady of Kazakhstan, as she fumbled in her purse for some
money. She dropped her donation into the slit of a small wooden box and lit a
candle, whispering, “For his safety…and our happiness.” She wiped the tears
welling in her eyes. “If it’s still possible.”

A couple of chandeliers, dangling
from bronze chains, projected hazy rays. As she strolled along the central
aisle, her heels clicked on the marble floor. The echo reverberated in the
silent cathedral, matching the pounding of her heartbeats. Raising her head,
she surveyed the cupola hovering behind the altar, and the dome that
disappeared high above in the darkness.

She sniffled. The darkness in her
heart was pitch-black, with no rays of hope to lighten her despair. Her gaze
lingered over the colorful side walls. Against the hot-pink background, a
symphony of glittering gold, sparkling silver and turquoise-blue mosaics
depicted scenes from the Bible. But Cecile’s amazement at the splendor
surrounding her couldn’t distract her from her emotional distress. She’d lost
her hero.

Reaching the front of the church,
she slid in a pew and knelt. Unable to remember the pious formulae of her
childhood, she begged, “Please, help him and help me.” With renewed confidence,
she vowed to continue her struggle. She would fight to the limit of her
strength and try to salvage their future. A surge of hope shot through her
heart as she rose and strolled back to the door.

She scurried toward the limousine
and climbed in the backseat. “
Hotel Nievol
. Fast,” she ordered.

In her room, she found a message
from Colonel Nicouvitch.

* * * * *

An unusual silence greeted Sergei
at Nicolai’s apartment. “Where are the children?”

“Gone to
Babushka
. Grandma
wanted to see them. Besides, we need some quiet here. Yelena is warming up the
food. Make yourself comfortable, my
Generalle
.”

Sergei removed his jacket and tie
and dropped down onto the sofa. Nicolai poured the vodka in the shot glasses
and handed one to Sergei. “
Na zdorovie
. Everything will be fine.”

They chugged their drinks bottoms
up. Sergei clanked his glass on the table. “Tomorrow, I’m meeting with our
Vice-President. I need to prepare my defense carefully. There should be a way
to prove Roussov’s abuse of his position as Director of National Security.” He
narrowed his eyes, beginning to plot.

Nicolai refilled the glasses.
“Don’t worry, my
Generalle
. A few glasses of vodka will clear your mind.
The solution will just pop up in front of you.”

The bell rang. Nicolai went to
answer the door. Lost in his thoughts, Sergei savored the burning taste of the
alcohol and the quiet of the room.

“Sergei.” The soft voice cut
through his reverie.

He bolted from his place. “What
the hell are you doing here?” A muscle jerked along his jaw. He could feel
darts of fire shooting out of his blazing eyes.

“Sergei, please,” Cecile repeated
in an inaudible voice.

“Nicolai, you scheming traitor.
Come here.”

She stood, pale and slim, frozen
in front of him, not daring to utter another word, like a defendant waiting for
a sentence. The scent of her jasmine perfume enveloped him. He had to brace
himself against the giddy sensation.

Forcing an icy look, he scanned
her with contempt. As he noticed her light brown hair floating on her
shoulders, he swallowed hard. His hand itched to reach out and wrap the silky curls
around his fingers. Sunken in deep shadows, her huge hazel-green eyes attested
to her stress and lack of sleep.

His gaze focused on the pursed
lips and he took a step forward. He breathed heavily, trying to control his
feelings, to curb the urge that propelled him toward her. How could he still
love her?

With a superhuman effort, he
turned away from her and wiped beads of perspiration from his brow. He heard
her sigh.

“Don’t worry. I’m not here to
seduce you,” she said, derision underscoring her words.

Sergei faced her, keeping a stony
mask. She raised her hand and dropped it in a defeated gesture. “Don’t blame
Nicolai. He only asked me to come for a business discussion.”

The colonel stepped forward.
“Sergei, please. Try to be rational. We need to discuss what Cecile has found
out during her meetings with the ministers.”

“What meetings?” The words left
his mouth before he could suppress them. Dumbfounded, he glared at her. Would
she never cease to amaze him?

Nicolai seemed completely at
ease. “Why don’t you both sit down? I’ll help Yelena bring the food. Cecile can
brief us on the result of her lobbying.”

“I don’t think my visits to the
ministers brought positive results.” Cecile handed Sergei a small package. “I
taped this. Before you eat, I’d like you to hear it.”

Sergei removed the wrapping. “A
mini-recorder?”

“Yes and a tape. I hope it will
be useful.”

He switched the player on and
heard Roussov’s voice.

His own former father-in-law, the
man in charge of Belarus National Security, was requesting a bribe from Cecile.

* * * * *

Nestled in the corner of the
sofa, Cecile clasped her hands to prevent them from shaking. She averted her
gaze from her companions. The tape forced her to relive one of the most
stressful moments of her life. In spite of John’s stern injunction not to
divulge the contents of the tape, she’d brought it to Sergei. Hearing Roussov’s
voice nauseated her. She pressed her hand to her stomach, trying to quench the
burning pain of her activated ulcer.

On the tape, the discussion faded
out. The two officers remained quiet and looked at each other. Cecile ignored
them, pleased that the voice grating on her nerves had been silenced.

“Cecile, why didn’t you give us
this tape right away?” Nicolai asked. “The day after your dinner with Roussov?”

With a pleading frown, she
groaned. “John didn’t want to create a scandal that would reflect on the
American delegation and cause us trouble.”

“You told John about the tape but
you didn’t trust me with it?” The pain in Sergei’s voice ripped through her
heart. He was right. She hadn’t trusted him enough. In fact, since she’d broken
her engagement to Rob, she’d never trusted any man.

She suppressed a quiver and
squeezed her eyes shut to prevent tears from pooling at this inappropriate
moment. “By the way, John told me today our Department of Defense has approved
the new contract.” The news should please him. She glanced at him. He didn’t
answer. It was too late. Too late for any good news. She straightened up. “The
tape is yours. Good night.”

Sergei called, “Cecile.”

She spun around and looked at
him, begging him silently to hold her, to love her, to keep her.

“Thank you for the tape.” Their
gazes locked and he bowed stiffly.

She nodded and left. He hadn’t
asked her to stay. He’d let her go, alone and miserable.

Tears streaming down her cheeks,
Cecile didn’t wait for the elevator. Her vision blurred, she grasped the
banister and proceeded down the stairs like a zombie. She’d done all she could
to redeem herself but it wasn’t enough. Sergei resented her. Sergei didn’t want
her around. She wiped her eyes with the back of her gloved hand and sniffed.

The tape, her only hope, could
save his career but would it bring back his love?

Chapter Twenty-five

Waiting in the antechamber of the
Vice-President’s office, Sergei heard a shuffling of steps and cacophony of
voices a few minutes before the door opened.

“Come in, Fedorin, we need you.”
Sergei recognized the nasal pitch of his boss. What was the Minister of Defense
doing here?

As he strode inside the room,
Sergei suppressed a gasp. The whole government, or the most powerful part of
it, had probably been ordered to join his meeting with the Vice-President. The
Minister of Defense, the Minister of Environment, Colonel Roussov and even Colonel
Nicouvitch were gathered in a circle. The private meeting he’d requested had
brought a full audience. Were they all expected to contribute an opinion?

Sergei surveyed the group with a
guarded expression. “
Dobroye
outroh
. Good morning, gentlemen.”

The Vice-President sat behind his
large cherry wood desk and asked Sergei to take the chair at his right. “This
is a disgrace for the Ministry of Defense and our entire government.” He spread
a bunch of pictures in front of him. “Can you explain, Colonel Roussov?”

The Director of National Security
related Sergei’s fight with the photographers and the guards and the discovery
of the dollars in Sergei’s jacket. Expecting every accusation gushing out of
his former father-in-law’s mouth, Sergei didn’t flinch. He noticed that the
others listened quietly, none of them showing any emotion, as if it was old,
rehashed news.

“Fedorin, I want to hear your
story now.” The VP reclined against the back of his leather seat and folded his
arms.

“It is similar to Roussov’s,” he
answered with supreme indifference. Without specifying the reason, he explained
that some photographers acted with obnoxious indiscretion and he hit them. The
foreign currency was in his jacket because he was on his way to pay the
restaurant on behalf of the American delegation. He carefully kept Cecile’s
name out of the discussion.

“You are not making a good case
for yourself,
Major
Generalle
,” the VP declared. Sergei averted
his curious look.

“I am an officer not a lawyer.”

The Minister of Defense
interfered. “Look at these pictures, Fedorin. They are damning. For the people
of Belarus, you were an honored icon, standing high on a pedestal. If the same
people see them now, they will wonder about the hidden sins of their
Major
Generalle
.”

Roussov glanced at him with
contempt. “The statue with clay feet has been knocked down.”

Sergei returned the look without
betraying an ounce of emotion. He was done being needled and goaded.