“I have a solution to your problem,” he said to add weight.
She let out an incredulous laugh. “You have a solution. Does that mean you can arrange for me to win the lottery?”
“In a manner of speaking,” he came back. His response managed to erase the mocking expression from her features. “However, I’d prefer it if we were seated to discuss it. Shall we start over again?”
Caught on the horns of a dilemma, she didn’t advance or retreat. She needed help. He intended to give it to her.
“Before we go any further, let me introduce myself. My name is Lucca Umberto Schiaparelli Vittorio V.”
CHAPTER TWO
ALEX studied the black-haired male who’d been interrogating her all this time. The second he’d walked in to Mr. Defore’s office wearing a light gray, hand-tailored silk suit that molded his powerful frame to perfection, he’d no more looked, talked or acted like a security guard than fly!
He was too well bred, too sophisticated. His faintly accented English had polish. Combined with his aristocratic bearing, she hadn’t been able to put him in any kind of a slot. There was much more to him than the fact that he was a tall, darkly handsome, olive-skinned Italian—in truth, the most attractive man she’d ever met in her life.
Now that she knew who he was, she realized she’d seen pictures of him flashed across the screen. She’d never paid much attention for the very fact that her mother had always gone for the larger-than-life types, just like Lucca. Anyone the media had hyped Alex chose to ignore.
In the flesh, the crown prince of Castelmare defied the normal adjectives one would apply to a good-looking man. There weren’t enough in the English language to do justice to his charisma.
With the Ligurian diamond on display, it was no coincidence he was here in New York. Undoubtedly he’d brought the famous stone to the States via the monarchy’s private plane.
This was her unlucky day. No man or woman had ever seen her this vulnerable before.
“You lied to me,” she accused him hotly.
“If you mean I didn’t correct your assumption that I was a security guard, then I have to plead guilty.”
“Does the royal Riviera playboy make it a regular practice to impersonate the hired help?” His dark eyes with their jet-black lashes suddenly took on a strange glitter that lent heat to her growing anger. “Or was it on a whim you decided to amuse yourself by toying with Kathryn Carlisle’s daughter while she poured out her guts? Either way, congratulations. You’ve made my humiliation doubly complete.”
Burning with rage, she turned on her heel and fled to the next room, but she was stopped at the outer door by an unsmiling, robust, Italian secret-service type planted there.
Naturally the prince wouldn’t make a move without all his bets being covered. She shut the door in the bodyguard’s face and wheeled around. Her nemesis lounged against the doorjamb of Mr. Defore’s office with his strong arms folded, insolently at ease.
More infuriated than ever, she said, “Am I to assume you’re the lottery, as long as I provide certain services? Would it give you some kind of perverted rush to claim you slept with Kathryn Carlisle’s daughter?” An angry laugh escaped as she shook her head. “You must be hard up for new thrills to consider handing over twelve million dollars to me, but unlike my mother, my body’s not for sale at any price!”
Undaunted he said, “I’m glad to hear it. Lovely as your body is, I’m not asking for it. However, I am in need of something else you could give me that would solve the most serious problem of my life…and yours. Come back in and sit down while we talk about it. This could take a while.”
“I can’t imagine being able to offer anything that would solve your problem…whatever it is.”
“You’d be surprised,” came the cryptic comment. “Give me half an hour of your time.”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I have to be at the airport later today and don’t have time to spare.”
He gazed at her intently. “Not even if the result of our meeting might mean clearing your mother’s debts once and for all? When I heard you cry out earlier that this was a matter of life and death, it sounded like you meant it.”
Alex studied him without averting her eyes. “I did.”
She heard his deep intake of breath. “What if I told you I have a situation that’s a matter of life and death for me, too. Would that make a difference to you?”
What was she supposed to say to such a question? Something in his tone led her to believe he might be telling the truth. Incredible how he’d turned things around so she felt guilty if she didn’t at least listen to what he had to say.
“I’ll give you five minutes.”
“Thank you. Come back inside the other room.”
Against her better judgment she did his bidding and retraced her steps. As she sat down, he spoke in Italian to someone on the phone before he took his place across from her. Then he typed something on the computer and printed it out.
Handing it to her, he said, “Your mother was married to royalty, did you know that?”
“Mother was married to four men with supposed titles, but in time those claims turned out to be false. Everything about her life was a sham.”
He eyed her narrowly. “Except that your father was the real thing.”
“You mean, a Las Vegas racketeer.”
“Rumors have a lot to answer for, particularly when they’re founded in jealousy and greed. Read what’s on the paper. You should find the information of the greatest interest.”
Alex looked down:
After the October Revolution of 1917 all classes of the Russian nobility were legally abolished. Many members of the Russian nobility who fled Russia after the Bolshevik Revolution played a significant role in the white emigré communities that settled in Europe, in North America and in other parts of the world.
In the 1920s and 1930s, several Russian nobility associations were established outside Russia, including groups in France, Belgium and the United States. By 1938, the Russian Nobility Association in New York was founded. Since the collapse of the Soviet Union, there has been a growing interest among Russians in the role the Russian nobility played in their historical and cultural development.
Membership is exclusively reserved to persons who are listed in the nobility archives. Those titled members are recorded below with their former titles, genealogies and photos available.
Alex scanned the list until her gaze fell on the name Grigory. She gasped softly when she saw the last name on the Grigory royal family tree. It read “Prince Oleg Rostokof Grigory, son of Prince Nicholas Grigory and Princess Vladmila Rostokof, born in New York, 1958, now living in Las Vegas, Nevada.”
Her heart clapped like thunder as she looked at a picture of her handsome, dark blond father, who couldn’t be more than eighteen in this picture. The strong physical resemblance between daughter
