Page 3 of Weeping Roses
“I have never met her.”
“Well, that makes two of us.”
I smile softly and if he’s surprised, he certainly hides it well because all he says is, “I wonder if I may take an hour of your time.”
“Why?” I’m curious and he smiles, but it doesn’t reassure me. If anything, it scares the shit out of me and I say, quickly, “It’s not really a good time. I mean, my aunt, well–” I point to the grave.
“It’s her funeral and all that. I should, well, go home to grieve, um, for the next six months at least.”
“It wasn’t a request.”
“Excuse me.”
I stare at him in horror and glance around, realizing that everyone has left because of the pissing rain, leaving me with a terrorist, or at least he could be.
“Please, follow me.”
“No!” I shake my head. “My car is over there, and I’ll get a parking ticket if I’m not out of here soon.”
He raises his hand and the man by the car heads over and he says in a husky voice, “Keys.”
“I’m sorry.” I swallow hard.
“Hand him your keys. He will follow us.”
“I’m not handing over my keys. Are you crazy?”
“Miss Scott-Stanley.” His voice holds an authority I’m not used to hearing, and he says firmly, “You have nothing to fear. I merely have a few questions that you may be able to answer. You are in no danger, but your aunt may have the answer to something my family need and when I have what I require, I will leave you to mourn her death in peace.”
There’s that part of me that is so scared I should be crying terrified tears of fear, but I have always been a fan of mystery, and this one is personal.
I have so many questions myself and nobody to ask, so my curiosity gets the better of me and I nod with a resigned shrug.
“Okay. If you insist. I can spare you one hour of my time. There’s a pub not far from here where we can dry out and raise a glass to my aunt.”
He says nothing and holds out his hand for the keys and as I hand them to him, there is something telling me I have just made an incredibly terrible, life destroying mistake.
CHAPTER 2
VALENTIN
Pollyanna Scott-Stanley is a nice surprise. When I volunteered to seek her out, it was purely because I was here on business anyway. I’m positive I’ll have the answers I need after a few well-directed questions, and we can put the mystery of who killed our father to bed and deal with the person responsible in the cold, callous way we’ve perfected over the years.
Yes, mess with the Romanov family and you will regret even thinking about it and this woman holds the key to the vital information we need.
This makes her a person of considerable interest to me, and my family, and I was right to advise her that she has no choice. They never do when it concerns our wishes, and she had better hope the information I seek is mine by the end of the day, or she will suffer my company for a great deal longer than she may be comfortable with.
Artem holds the passenger door open, and I wait for her to enter the car and as I slide in after her, the droplets of rain splash onto the black leather seats like the tears of the damned.
As the car moves off, I lean back in my seat and say deeply, “You say that you never knew your aunt.”
“Did I?” I’m surprised at the bitter edge to her voice and then she sighs. “She was a stranger to us. I’m not sure why, but she drifted away from the family and there was no love lost between my father and her.”
“They were siblings?” I am mildly interested, and she nods. “Blood ties you to people you would otherwise prefer to forget.”
She sighs heavily. “Listen, don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t always like that. Dad told me they were closer as children, but he never really approved of my aunt’s choices when she became an adult.”
“Did he mention what those choices were?”