“The idea of marriage no longer chafed. I was his wife in every other way. Why not give me that status legally? My religious upbringing liked the idea. My mother would be so pleased. It bothered me that he allowed his son to decide, instead of me. And for Grigory and his son, it is all about the money. His son, Aleksandr, is his sole heir. Like Reuben. One man, billions and billions of rubles and euros. Aleksandr has no wish to share with a stepmother. Especially not a brown stepmother.” She shook her head. “Russians.”

She scanned Kira from head to toe. “Men like Grigory usually have mistresses your age. Younger, really. I never thought he would turn out to be like the others, but his interest in you…it bothers me. I’ve seen his texts with Reuben. He was asking about you before he spotted you on Friday.”

“I assure you, I have no interest in Grigory or his money.”

“No, but he is interested in yours.”

“Mine? I’m an art historian. Practically broke. Besides, I have a boyfriend.”

“A very new boyfriend who just so happens to have shown up in Malta right before you find out you could inherit billions. Maybe he saw one of your mother’s portraits and worked it out for himself. He’s interested in art and was specifically looking into paintings in Malta. Grigory might not be the only one who owns a portrait.”

Kira wished they’d thought of that scenario. It had merit.

“Well, he’ll be disappointed because I don’t want Luka’s money any more than I want Grigory’s.”

“You say that now, but ideals change. Look at me. I was supposed to be his fun. I bust my ass to make enough money on my own so that I’ll never need him if—when—he dumps me. If he married me, I could make my art for the love of creating again.”

“It’s okay to make art for the money.” It was one of her pet peeves to hear people say that any kind of creative work should be done for love and not profit.

“Yes. I know. But my heart is with the smaller pieces. The giant glass sculptures—they take a toll to create, but sell for ten times what the smaller pieces go for.”

That, Kira understood. But she wasn’t here to play therapist to an oligarch’s mistress. “Listen, I’m here to learn about my parents. All of them. And my brother. I have a boyfriend, and nothing could make me want to inherit billions of Russian blood money, unless I could end world hunger with it. I don’t want anything from Grigory other than to know about my family. What would I want with a man twice my age?”

“With money, you can buy young men to keep you happy.”

“My mom had Luka’s wealth and gave it up to be with my dad. That’s pretty telling as far as the joys of wealth.”

“She stole you away in the early days of the collapse. Luka had power and money, but nothing like what he has now.”

“Are you trying to convince me to want Grigory? Because I promise you, that’s not going to happen.”

“No. I just think you haven’t really considered your situation. If not Grigory, there will be others. Luka is extremely powerful, and Reuben wants to be even more so. Alignment with them through you…you’re about to be the most sought-after Russian heiress since women started claiming to be Anastasia.”

“That sounds…horrible.”

“Marry your himbo to avoid being sold by your brother.”

Kira choked on a laugh, but the last part of Juliette’s statement was sobering. “No one is selling me. I’m not a Kulik. I’m a Hanson.”

“They don’t see it that way.”

“It doesn’t matter how they see it. I can return to the US tomorrow.”

“And with their EU passports, they could easily follow you.”

That was highly unlikely now that the Kuliks were on a watch list due to their association with Laskin, but Juliette couldn’t know anything about that. She stared at Rand through the window and smiled. “Maybe I should marry the himbo, then.”

Nothing about his body language revealed he’d heard, but he was wearing sunglasses and she could imagine his eyes narrowing with promised retribution.

“Make him sign a prenup.”

Kira rose from her seat and pitched her empty cup and plastic spoon into the trash. “Poor guy looks like he’s melting faster than his cone. Let’s go to your gallery and see if you’ve got anything gorgeous and expensive I can convince him to buy. It will be a good way to find out exactly how deep his pockets are.”

The artwork on display at Laskin’s gallery was almost all glass and included inexpensive traditional Gozo glass designs along with pricier works by Juliette and other Maltese glass artists.

Rand made a show of interest in a flower bouquet sculpture that Kira assured him was a bargain at ten thousand euros.

It was a lovely piece, and if the money wouldn’t also pay a cut to a man who’d used his wealth to ambush and murder unarmed SEALs on American soil, he would have considered actually buying it as a gift for Kira, who clearly loved the piece.

It was probably good that there was no way he’d give Laskin a dime of his money, because it was far too soon to be considering such an extravagant gift.

But damn, the way Kira’s eyes lit when she looked at art that pleased her was mesmerizing. He’d do better to use that ten grand to take her to Italy or France.

His cell phone rang right on schedule, and he slipped away from Kira and Juliette to take the call. He stepped outside to avoid the gallery cameras, which likely didn’t have sound but might allow for lip reading. 

He stood in the shade of an awning three doors down, watching the street for Laskin, who was on his way to meet them. Sure enough, a large SUV turned onto the busy street and stopped in front of the gallery.

Rand tucked away his phone and approached the gallery entrance just as Grigory Laskin climbed out of the rear seat.

Rand was deep in character, but still it took everything in him to smile at and again shake hands with the man who’d orchestrated the deaths of the other three SEALs on Teague Collins’s Fire Team. Chris Flyte had been AOIC of the full team, and he’d been a specific target of the op.

Rand had nothing to do with that training, nor had he been part of the failed rescue of Laskin’s daughter, which was why he could give his name and shake his hand without fear, but that didn’t make his role easy.

He wasn’t a covert operator, and he’d had no idea what he was stepping into when he asked to be allowed to go to Malta. But now that he was in it, he would do everything he could to prevent another attack on his base. Even smile at Laskin and greet him like a friend. He was Kira’s sketchy new boyfriend, and he wanted something from the wealthy Russian.

“It’s good to meet you again. I was sorry we had to run off yesterday, but Kira wasn’t feeling well.”

The oligarch gave Rand a sharp look, but didn’t comment on the excuse.

They stepped into the gallery. Kira and Juliette were chatting in the corner. Laskin’s gaze landed on the two women, his expression unreadable. “Are you hoping to start a bidding war between Reuben and myself? Reuben to pay you to take Kira back to the US and me to pay you to take Kira off your hands?”

“Kira is not mine to sell. Nor is she Kulik’s.”

“But you will take my money.”

He said nothing. Only a fool would admit anything up front, and he might come across as a himbo to Juliette, but Kira wouldn’t be with him if he was an obvious dolt.

Kira and Juliette approached. Laskin kissed his mistress on the cheek while Kira tucked herself against Rand. She didn’t bother with shaking hands or even smiling at Laskin. Unlike his character, she didn’t have an agenda when it came to the billionaire, except to find out about her father.

As if on cue, she said, “Juliette tells me your art collection is quite magnificent. Did my father assist you with any of your purchases?”

“It depends on which father you mean.”

“I believe I’ve made it clear I want nothing from the Kuliks. I certainly don’t consider him my father.”

“Whether you consider him your father or not, biology is fact.”