Kira read her meaning and looked to Rand. She nodded toward the door, asking without words for him to give them a moment.
Rand rose and kissed her forehead before stepping out of the sweet shop.
“He’s certainly good-looking, but are you sure you can trust him?” Juliette said.
Kira maintained the very real dreamy look Rand inspired, knowing it would make her seem foolish in the other woman’s eyes. At this point, she wanted everyone to underestimate her. Even Rand needed to present a condescending front. Kira was a pawn in everybody’s game.
The role worked for her.
“He’s fun. Just what I needed for this trip.” She let out a happy sigh.
“That good?”
“Better.”
Juliette’s gaze turned to the window beyond which Rand stood eating his melting treat. “Hmmm.”
“Hey, now. He’s mine.”
“That kind of thing goes both ways.”
“Grigory? He’s too old for me.”
“Age and billions are great equalizers.”
“I promise you, I have no interest in your…” Words like boyfriend sounded juvenile for couples in their sixties, and she didn’t want to insult Juliette with the wrong term. After an uncomfortable pause, she said, “Partner.”
“I suppose that’s better than being his mistress, but it implies an equality that doesn’t exist in Grigory’s world.”
“Then why are you with him? You don’t need his money.”
Juliette nodded toward the window beyond which Rand stood in the Gozo heat. “Why are you with the himbo?”
Kira let out a sharp laugh. The folks back at Little Creek were going to love that. “I’m on vacation, and he’s good in bed.”
“Well, that’s something. As for me…we would have married after his wife died, but his son hates me.” She looked up at the ceiling. “In the beginning, the last thing I wanted was marriage. I was glad he had a wife and two children. They spent most of their time in Russia. They were his responsibility. I was his fun.”
She shrugged. “But then his daughter died, and his wife and son moved to Gozo full time. She drank to oblivion until one night she drowned in their pool. It might have been an accident. Or it was suicide. I think it was a little of both. But during that time, and every day since, I was no longer his fun. I was his support.
“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.”
