The Russian Seduction (36 page)

“Goddamn it,” he gritted, fists knotting at his side. “You know as well as I do this is no place to linger. We’ll return to the hotel and talk things through—”

“Show me your fucking SVR identification, you bastard!” The ugly words tore her throat, and furiously she swiped a hand across her stinging eyes. “So we both know it’s over.”

On some level, she supposed she should be gratified that the unshakable captain fumbled while breaking out his wallet. One of those flat, brass-cornered passport cases the Russians used to hold their documents. When he flipped it open and extended it wordlessly, she could hardly read the card through her brimming tears.

But she could make out enough to confirm that yeah, it was an SVR identification card, with his name and a black-and-white photo of his stern features laminated onto it. Date of expiry about a year from now. Date of issue only a month ago, right before she’d met him.

“Alexis, listen to me.” He ground out the words with forced control as he shoved the thing back in his pocket. But he’d lapsed into Russian—a sure sign that he was disconcerted. “It’s true that they gave me the assignment, but I told them I refused to take it—”

“Nice try, captain. But your excuses are too little, too late.” Now it was her turn to fumble through her clutch, past her lipstick and the damn wire, to find the envelope she’d folded into it.

“Given your facility with languages,” she said, with an aching throat, “you’re undoubtedly familiar with the old maxim that a picture is worth a thousand words. In this case, it’s the literal truth.”

She shoved the incriminating photos of the two of them in the sack into his startled hand. “Goodbye, Captain Kostenko.”

While he frowned at the envelope, she got her ass out of there, through the emergency exit to the Consulate vehicle that was thankfully idling there—before all hell broke loose.

Before Victor could think up any more good lies to con her. Before she overrode all her instincts and years of experience with the Russians and convinced herself to believe him.

She could never override the sickening realization that she’d fallen in love with a lie, a legend the Russians had engineered solely for her seduction.

A man who didn’t exist—and never would.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“Alexis, I wish you would allow yourself a bit more time to think this over.”

Standing in a sea of packing debris, Stuart Malvaux watched unhappily as Alexis transferred a pile of glossy art books from her living room bookshelf into a shipping crate. Behind him, the gas fire flickered cheerily, casting its glow over the cream pile carpet and bland beige walls of her Embassy townhouse.

“You’ve made this decision terribly quickly,” the Ambassador pressed when she didn’t respond. “Ten years of hard work to make Minister-Counselor at one of our largest and highest-profile embassies. A position any Foreign Service Officer would kill for, and one you richly deserve. Do you really want to throw away your achievements and your ambitions with barely three weeks’ notice?”

Doggedly, Alexis stacked a box of political biographies—her father’s books, which she’d kept for sentimental reasons, but somehow never gotten around to reading. Another subtle sign that she’d been on the wrong career track.

“Those were my father’s ambitions, not mine,” she said firmly, keeping her eyes on her work. Because she also knew if she met her old friend’s sympathetic amber eyes, she’d never manage to keep it together. “I know this all seems rather sudden. But this decision has been in the works for a long time, even if I wasn’t prepared to acknowledge my unhappiness until now. I did stay on through the presidential visit, as promised.”

“Don’t understate your contribution, Alexis. This was a historical first-ever visit between President Cartwright and her hard-line Russian counterpart, on the brink of an international crisis. Ultimately, the summit was successful due largely to your efforts.

“The fact that she was able to confront the Russians,” he pointed out, “and that they knew we weren’t merely speculating about their intentions for Ukraine—these were arguably the critical factors in the Russian pullout. Without overstating the case, I’ve given Washington my assessment that it was your efforts most of all that preserved the fledgling democracy of a key U.S. ally under threat.”

“You’re very generous, sir. But you know as well as I do that we were extraordinarily lucky. I made one catastrophic error after another in my efforts to resolve the issue.”

Grimly, Alexis concentrated on taping her box closed. Anytime she let her thoughts stray to that disastrous night in St. Petersburg—the night she’d finally smartened up and dumped Victor Kostenko—she ended up an emotional wreck.

Damn it, she’d
known
he’d been lying to her about his work, his background, and most of all his reasons for pursuing her. But she still loved the guy she’d thought he was, the carefully crafted legend who didn’t even exist. And how stupid was
that
?

She cleared her throat and swallowed past the aching lump. “You heard the Defense Attaché’s closeout briefing yesterday. Before they withdrew, the Russians towed what was left of the
Lenin
into 10,000 feet of water and let her sink. They most likely eased off the pressure on Ukraine simply because they know that, at that depth, we’ll never get to the boat or its nuclear payload.”

“I suppose that’s one possible interpretation,” Stu murmured, his voice so rich with sympathy that she almost started crying again. “Regardless of the Russians’ motives, you did one hell of a job, Alexis—and at considerable personal cost. You can rest assured that I’ve informed the Secretary personally of your substantial contribution. You should expect a letter of commendation from him for your efforts.”

“Thanks,” she said huskily, head bowed over the packing crate for an unnecessarily long moment. “And I truly do appreciate the Meritorious Honor Award. Even though some will always question…”

“Whether you received it because your name happens to be Castle?” he finished for her. “Do you honestly believe I’d have tolerated a mediocre officer in your pivotal post, at this Embassy and during this critical juncture in the U.S.-Russian relationship, solely for a dead man’s sake? I respected your father as one hell of a diplomat, Alexis. But I consider you his equal.”

She’d known the Ambassador a long time, and he could lie as smoothly as any other government figure when necessary. But she recognized the ring of sincerity in his voice. He really did value her contributions for her own sake, just as he claimed. And she damn well knew she deserved that recognition, despite her mistakes in handling this case. Just as she knew there were others in the old boys’ network at Stat Department whom she’d never convince.

She’d thought this through from every angle, during hour-long soaks in her tub with a bottle of Bordeaux and a sea of scented candles. The only way she’d ever get out from under Wayne Castle’s towering shadow, as she’d finally accepted, was to renounce the diplomatic career she’d never truly wanted. Once she’d made up her mind to accept the risk and make the jump, the decision had been surprisingly liberating. Moreover, it felt
right
.

She just hoped she could trust her instincts this time. Because they hadn’t done the greatest job for her lately. Her train-wreck of a love life being the most glaring example.

Stu was still eyeing her with a furrowed brow. “I do hope, Alexis, that you aren’t feeling pressured to leave by my Deputy Chief of Mission. Because if I had to choose between Geoff Chase and you to guard my back, I’d have no hesitation in seeing him reassigned.”

“I know that.” Now Alexis could meet his concerned gaze without faltering. “We both know he acted inappropriately, using the Embassy security team to pursue his own personal vendetta. And
he
knows it’s cost him his next promotion. With a black mark like that on his record, he can kiss his own ambassadorial ambitions goodbye.”

“Unfortunately, you’re right about that,” the Ambassador admitted. “I’ve no doubt at all that he deeply regrets his actions. So if Geoff is chasing you away—”

“Nothing could be further from the truth, sir,” she said honestly. “Geoff has bent over backward to avoid me since we returned from St. Pete. There’s nothing between us anymore, and I wouldn’t let his presence influence my decision to stay or leave. His wishes were completely irrelevant when I made my choice.”

Briskly she stood and brushed herself off—even managing a smile for her old friend.

“Besides, you haven’t seen a sample of my investigative journalism yet,” she teased. “I’ve already had a couple of stories accepted by the
Moscow Times
, and they’ve expressed an interest in seeing more of my work. Who knows, I might be a future winner of the Pulitzer Prize. Then you can say you knew me when.”

“That wouldn’t surprise me a bit.” He offered a rueful grin. “Of course, as a private citizen, you’d need to leave the Embassy compound in any event. But I can’t understand why this career change of yours requires leaving Moscow altogether.”

“I can’t stay here.” She spoke more sharply than she’d intended, and worked to moderate her tone. Because she had no intention of going into
why
her hasty exit would be leaving skid marks on the tarmac at Sheremetyevo airport.

“I’m planning to spend the next few months on the road,” she finished lightly. “I plan to try my hand at travel writing, submit a few stories via email. I have enough cash in savings to float for a few months, so I won’t starve to death. In fact, I’m looking forward to a few adventures.”

The hell of it was, she’d told Stu the honest truth. She—Wayne Castle’s daughter, the buttoned-tight rising star of the U.S. Foreign Service—had discovered her inner adventure junkie. Now she was breaking all the rules, and wasn’t
that
a piece of irony?

Again the Ambassador’s eyes searched hers, but she found herself struggling to meet his gaze. He probably knew she hadn’t mentioned the core reason why she wouldn’t be sticking around to launch her journalistic career from Moscow. The reason she’d been burning up the Carlson-Wagonlit office to buy a one-way ticket out of Russia tomorrow, and the reason she’d never return.

But she and Stu had known each other a long time. And he’d read her contact report—her confession, as she thought of it—about the full extent of her relationship with Victor Kostenko.

“Say,” the Ambassador said casually, appearing to follow her thoughts. “I heard at MFA yesterday that Captain Kostenko has resigned from his diplomatic post. He’s been briefing his replacement. I thought you might want to know.”

God, just hearing his name made her heart stop beating. Her heart twisted with the pain of remembrance. Painfully she sucked in a ragged breath, and her heartbeat fumbled to catch up, thudding hard and fast.

Eyes burning, she bent to construct another packing box and struggled to regain her composure. She really couldn’t believe that, after everything he’d done, she still felt a pang of concern for the bastard.

He’d knocked a four-star admiral unconscious in her defense, though she’d made a point of confirming that Igor Ivashov had made a full recovery. How much of the incident the admiral recalled after his concussion, she hadn’t been able to discern. If he’d remembered everything and the SVR had chosen to punish Victor for it, that wasn’t her problem anymore. But still…

“Perhaps they’ve reassigned him at the Defense Ministry. That should please him, since he despised his desk job at MFA.” She forced a shrug, but suspected her display of indifference wasn’t terribly convincing. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Victor, it’s that he always lands on his feet.

“Anyway,” she hurried on, “I’m confirmed on an 8 a.m. flight to Bangkok tomorrow. The movers will finish clearing out the townhouse next week, so my replacement can move in promptly.”

“Frankly, that’s the last issue on my mind.” Stu leaned forward to hold the cardboard box while she taped the bottom. “I’d still like to convince you to take a leave of absence, Alexis, while you think this over. With the benefit of distance, you may come to regret your decision.”

“No way,” she said instantly.
Not even tempted to waffle, thank God.
She wanted out of the stifling stranglehold of her father’s legacy no matter what else happened.