Of course. I was passing on the information they wanted me to.

No. I mean the *real* spying. The information my mother gave to Conrad. Things that make you a traitor and, if it came out, would destroy Reuben’s political ambitions.

Dots appeared and disappeared. A minute passed with no reply. She tried another tactic.

You paid the man pretending to be my cousin to lure me here. Did you know Reuben used the information he gave you to try to stop me from coming?

Take the helicopter. I will tell the pilot to bring you to the villa so we can talk. Alone.

Chapter Fifty-One

Reuben snatched the phone from her hand. He read the messages, then dropped it on the floor and slammed his heel down on the glass screen. “Don’t think you can play me against our father, baby sister. You don’t know him like I do.”

She had to swallow her fear. She didn’t need the phone. She had the pendant camera. She wasn’t alone. His every word and action were being watched and recorded.

“It seems to me you should want me to go to Luka, because if I stay here, I’ll tell Grigory exactly what Benny did last week.”

His eyes widened and his face drained of color. “You know nothing.”

“Which one of you has set his sights on the presidency? Was the mercenary who led the coup that failed last week working for you? Was it supposed to be a double whammy—weaken the president while strengthening your power among the ruling class? The coup didn’t even need to succeed—you just needed to show people are willing to stand up to him.”

His face had turned a ruddy red.

“Does Grigory know you intend to seize power over him? This nonsense with me marrying Aleksandr, is that meant to give him motive to support you over himself? His son, brother-in-law to the new Russian president, guaranteeing him a seat of power for the next decade or two?”

“You don’t think I’d make a good president, sister?”

“It’s possible anyone would be better than the current one, but no, I don’t think you’re the replacement the world needs. For starters, you lack experience.”

“Oh, but baby sister, there you’re wrong. Like our father before me, I have long held a covert role in the FSB. I was handpicked by Yeltsin in the last year of his presidency.”

Reuben was FSB? She should have guessed. He’d been controlling everything. Even pushing Andre to the point that he unraveled and came after her. “Did Cousin Andre know what you are?”

“No. He had no idea he was working for me.”

“Is he alive?”

“I’ll take you to him so you can see.”

That didn’t sound good. “Pass, thanks. What does Luka think of your plans to become president?”

“He is pleased I am rebuilding our power after he nearly destroyed us, sharing far more than he was supposed to with Conrad.”

She rather suspected their mother was to blame for that. The villa in Malta was made for intelligence gathering—secret hallways, vents that carried conversations. Kira remembered playing “telephone” with Reuben—and probably Clara—through those vents.

She’d bet Mom had done her own intelligence gathering and had delivered the real information to Conrad. It’s probably why her dad had been able to arrange for hers and Kira’s extraction from the household.

Had Luka discovered her spying? “You said earlier Mom was sick in the weeks before we went out on the boat. What was wrong with her?”

“How would I know? She didn’t let us see her.”

Had she been hiding bruises because Luka caught her?

She shook her head. That could be sorted out later. She needed to see if she could get more from Reuben while he was feeling confessional. He was certain he had Kira cornered, no idea others were listening.

A tête-à-tête with his powerless sister in Grigory’s art gallery. In his mind, she was utterly alone. Even her boyfriend couldn’t be trusted. He was probably busy having sex with a maid.

“What, exactly, are you planning, Reuben? Why was Benny sent to Virginia? It wasn’t because I was there. You said he’s been there for a year or so. That’s long before you learned I was alive—assuming you saw my name and face on the news in December.”

He gave a slight nod.

“Why send Benny after me when you did? You could have waited until I was here and taken me out quietly.”

“What makes you think I sent Benny after you?”

“Of course he was after me. He called my name.”

His nostrils flared, and he allowed a small smile. His voice dropped to just above a whisper. “He got close, then. So. Fucking. Close.”

“Yes. I wonder what Grigory will do when I tell him you sacrificed your well-placed mole in a botched attempt to kill me?”

“He wasn’t supposed to kill you. He was supposed to grab you. Quietly. Set you up to take the fall.”

Kira’s heart pounded so hard, she felt dizzy. He’d said it. Admitted there was a plan in place. “Take the fall for what?”

“It would have been perfect. Mama’s precious girl, a traitor. A killer. Face all over the news again, but better.”

“What are you and Grigory planning?”

He leaned close and whispered. “You’ll find out. Tomorrow.”

Kira eyed the arched doorway over his shoulder.

Reuben shifted, cutting off her line of sight. “Hoping for a rescue? Laskin won’t intervene. We made a deal.”

“Rand is here.”

“He’s too busy getting a blow job from the maid.”

She no longer knew how to play this. Pretend to believe him? What would get her out of this room? “I need to go. Papa is expecting me.” She took a step to the side, the only clear path to the door.

Reuben lunged, his hands circling her throat. Before he could squeeze, she kneed him in the balls and shoved him back, then twisted toward the open archway. All she had to do was get away from Reuben. The house was huge. She could hide until Rand found her.

Hands grappled at the back of her sundress as she dodged around a pillar that held the large Murano glass vase. His fingers caught a wide shoulder strap, and he yanked her back. She grasped at the vase, failing to grab it, but succeeding in knocking it off the pedestal. The sickening sound of shattering art caused a momentary freeze, but she recovered wits and priorities in less than a heartbeat and twisted, attacking Reuben with sharp nails and kicking feet.

He tossed her down, and she landed on the shards of the antique vase. A fresh break even in old glass was as sharp as obsidian, as demonstrated by the pain that sliced along the backs of her thighs. She plucked a piece from the floor and swung it toward her brother’s face.