The Prince's Gamble Page 6

  Tatiana popped out of her chair and rushed to the young man’s side. She slipped her hand into his and playfully tugged him a little farther into the room. “Sasha, this is Kevin Matson.”

  Alexander rose, and everyone waited for the young man to move. With another little tug from Tatiana, he straightened his back, gaining another inch in height, and charged forward. When he reached the table, he stuck out his hand with determination.

  “Prince Alexander. I’ve heard a great deal about you.” He winced when the prince gripped his hand. Kathleen hid a smile.

  “All good, I hope? And please, call me Alexander,” the prince replied, and made a point of glancing her way. A barb? Or a reminder? Then he added, “Kathleen. Would you mind moving so Tatiana and Kevin may sit together?”

  Very clever.

  Since the staff had yet to serve her anything, she would be hard pressed to refuse his request. Besides, she could handle him, she told herself. Even if the mere sound of her name on his lips brought all kinds of heat through her body… Unfortunately, not even their altercation this morning had dimmed that primal reaction. Though, truth to tell, it was hard to stay angry at him when she knew in her heart he was right and she was wrong. She had prejudged and condemned him, and hadn’t bothered to check her facts.

  She took the seat between him and Jim.

  Alexander gave a signal and the dining room staff efficiently went to work, pouring coffee and tea from a large, ornate samovar on the wet bar. Taking orders for whatever each of the guests desired for breakfast.

  Alexander’s choices were disgustingly healthy, which probably explained his amazing physique. Yogurt and fruit. Egg whites with lox and a smattering of caviar.

  The only thing their meals had in common was the tea they both seemed to favor.

  While Tatiana mimicked her brother’s choices, both Kevin and Jim were like her, favoring a more traditional American choice of eggs, bacon, pancakes, and toast.

  As soon as their orders were taken and beverages provided, Alexander faced the young couple and peppered Kevin with questions. “What are you studying at the university, Kevin?”

  Kevin glanced at Tatiana anxiously for a moment, but as he had before, found inner courage and faced the prince. “I’m a business major. A five year program since I plan to get my MBA as well.”

  “You can’t go wrong with a business degree,” Alexander offered cordially. “What about your parents? What do they do? Siblings?”

  “Sasha,” Tatiana chided, and laid her hand over Kevin’s in a show of support.

  “No, it’s okay, Tatiana,” Kevin urged and quickly rattled off a family history. Nothing out of the ordinary, but likewise nothing Kathleen suspected a prince might find outstanding in his sister’s suitor. Kevin’s mother was a teacher. Father a police officer. Two younger siblings still in school.

  “Solid professions. Did Tatiana tell you our mother was a teacher before she married our father?” Alexander was trying to put the young man at ease, which earned him brownie points with both Kathleen and his sister.

  “No, I didn’t mention it,” Tatiana piped in.

  “What about your father? What was he before?” Kevin asked, his gaze darting between the two siblings, who both chuckled in unison.

  “Father was always a prince,” Tatiana answered.

  “Your father inherited the family businesses, didn’t he?” Kathleen interjected, hoping to elicit more information than what was in her files.

  “He did. Some agricultural enterprises as well as oil and gas holdings. Real estate. Then he decided to diversify into the casino and hotel business.” he said as the wait staff arrived with their meals.

  “You mean you decided, don’t you, Sasha? You’re the one who’s made the casino and hotels such a success,” his sister said with pride.

  That hint of color tinted his cheeks once again, reminding Kathleen that for all his regal lineage, he was a flesh and blood man with very human emotions.

  “Thank you, Tatochka.” He looked down at the plate in front of him for a brief second. That his sibling could ruffle his iron composure with her praise touched Kathleen’s heart. Maybe she really had misjudged him.

  She shook herself out of it. “Why expand into such a different business?” she asked. The other real estate holdings the Ivanov family held, such as the ill-fated warehouse, were business-type locations and far removed from the gaming and hotel properties.

  With a negligent shrug that was becoming all too familiar, Alexander forked up some of his eggs, lox and caviar, but paused with the food halfway to his mouth. “Freedom,” he answered without hesitation.

  Something she took for granted, and had all her life. His family, however, had somehow survived the Russian Revolution and escaped the oppression of a Communist regime. Even with the recent changes in Russia—heck, because of those changes—his royal lineage brought to bear burdens an average person did not have, or probably couldn’t even comprehend. A different answer than he’d given her yesterday to a similar question—that he’d started his small empire to ensure Tatiana’s future—but the meaning wasn’t all that different.

  “Alexander is big on making his own destiny,” Tatiana said, possibly revealing more than her brother cared to at that moment.

  But Kathleen hadn’t needed the explanation. She understood the prince far better than he thought.

  Which scared the crap out of her.

  “Enough about me,” Alexander said, command ringing in his voice.

  “And modest as well,” Tatiana teased, obviously delighting in making her older sibling uncomfortable before heeding his request. “Anyway. Kevin and I were studying for our economics class. We have a big test midweek,” she said.

  The conversation turned back to the young couple’s classes, with her and Jim chiming in only occasionally. She was more interested in sitting back and watching the interaction between brother and sister. She wanted to know who the real man was behind the princely façade Alexander presented to the world. Was he truly as nice as he seemed? Could she really stop thinking of him as the bad guy, as he had asked of her earlier that morning?

  The meal passed quickly with the exuberance of the young couple and Alexander’s easy sociability. He was even more relaxed now than he had been at last night’s gathering with his staff and sister.

  The plates had barely been cleared when Tatiana glanced at her watch and jumped to her feet.

  “Kevin and I have to get going. We promised to be back for a study group meeting.”

  Kevin rose more slowly. “If you’ll excuse us, sir.”

  He was earning points with his politeness. Alexander nodded and also stood, but motioned for her and Jim to remain seated. “Let me show you out.”

  …

  Alexander followed the young couple as they walked to the door, wanting a word with his sister before she left. He didn’t want any misunderstandings between them. He grabbed hold of her hand. As politely as he could, he asked Kevin, “Would you give us a second?”

  The young man nodded and stepped a few feet down the hall. In soft tones, Alexander said, “You know I only want what’s best for you, Tatochka.”

  “I know, Sasha. Kevin is a nice guy.” She sneaked a peek out of the corner of her eye at her young man.

  That remained to be seen, he thought, since he had no doubt Kevin was more than just a study partner. “Maybe next weekend the two of you will spend a little more time with me?”

  His sister’s gaze skipped over his features, gauging if he was truly serious, but seeing that he was, she dipped her head in agreement. “Okay.”

  “I’ll see you both for Friday night dinner, then.” He hugged her hard, unafraid to show Tatiana just how much he cared about her..

  She returned his embrace with equal fervor, but then surprised him by rising on tiptoes and whispering in his ear, “Don’t glare so much at Kathleen and maybe you have a chance with her.”

  Stunned into silence, he failed to reply as she dashed
away to her boyfriend, grabbed hold of his hand, and almost skipped down the hallway.

  He shook his head and chuckled belatedly at his sister’s exuberance. But then again, that freedom of spirit was what he had hoped for her when he had pressed to open this casino. In Europe their royal ties would have bound his sister to an assortment of duties and constant scrutiny from the tabloids. There was, as he had said earlier, far more freedom here in America.

  For better, and for worse, it seemed…

  He had to remind himself this was exactly what he’d wanted for Tatiana—the ability to determine her own fate. Without interference from anyone, including him.

  Or maybe not so much, anyway.

  Closing the door to the dining room, he met his majordomo’s inquiring gaze. “Could you please clear the dining room, Ben?”

  With discreet commands, Ben had the staff take away their plates and leave behind a carafe of coffee and the samovar with hot water for tea before securing the staff door to provide the privacy Alexander had requested.

  He returned to the table. “Thank you for indulging me with your time, Kathleen. I know how valuable it is.”

  A reluctant smile skipped across Kathleen’s full lips. “Not a problem, Sasha. It was quite enlightening.”

  In a good way, he hoped. He smiled back, pleased at her use of his nickname, even if she was teasing him. He still wasn’t exactly sure why he wished so badly for Kathleen to stop viewing him as an uptight, pampered aristocrat, and a possible suspect. But he did. He hoped the nickname was a good sign.

  He directed his attention to his security chief before he made a fool of himself and did something really stupid. Like telling her what he was feeling. Or leaning over and kissing her.

  He cleared his throat to control that urge. “What do you have for us this morning, Jim?”

  …

  Kathleen watched the enigmatic emotions play on the prince’s face and wondered what he was thinking. It was impossible to guess. Not that it mattered.

  Jim handed her another thumb drive and folder, and provided Alexander with a similar one. “We’ve got details on some of the whales who have deposited large markers over the last few months as well as some more photos.”

  Alexander opened the file and failed to control the recoil of his body at the image that greeted him. His shock was impossible to miss.

  Instinctively, she laid her hand over his as it tensed beside the folder. “Alexander?”

  “Russian prison tattoos. See his arms and hands.” An unnatural deadness filled his eyes and voice.

  She gave an involuntary shiver as she opened the folder and studied the grainy image that had so captured Alexander’s attention. It was a man, sitting at a table in the restaurant.

  “As you suggested, sir, we were able to get an image from the casino floor camera. Unfortunately, the angle was not good enough to get a face.”

  “But it’s enough to know we’re dealing with someone who most probably has mob connections,” Alexander replied in that same lifeless cadence.

  Kathleen spared only a quick glance at Jim, but the security chief’s eyes as he met hers communicated volumes.

  Heeding his silent request not to pry, she said, “I’ll send this on to my people. Our specialists may be able to find out more.” She gave her own report at Alexander’s curt nod. “From the materials you provided, there is no doubt there is money laundering going on at Russian Nights. There have been an excessive number of exchanges by female escorts of cash for chips and vice versa. Those escorts also arranged for transfers of some of the money to several banks with private accounts in the Cayman Islands. Thanks to their secrecy laws, we can’t find out whose accounts, but there’s little doubt someone is trying to hide the money. Luckily the activity is recent. Possibly only in the past two weeks.”

  Alexander closed the file with restored calm. “I’m glad we were able to catch it so early. What do we do now?” He looked, however, anything but glad.

  “I’d like to bring in a couple more agents for surveillance purposes,” she suggested.

  “We have enough staff here,” Alexander began, but then his voice trailed off as it dawned on him why she wanted her own people.

  “You’re not sure if my employees are clean or, for that matter, if I am. Fair enough.”

  He seemed more weary, or disappointed, rather than angry at her distrust. She wanted to reach out and tell him it wasn’t him she was worried about, that she was just following protocol, but his spine straightened and he cut off anything she might have said.

  “Jim will arrange for your team to have access and any other accommodations you require.” He rose, and grabbed hold of the file.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I have some obligations on the casino floor to which I must attend.”

  The humanity, and even vulnerability, she had seen earlier during breakfast was gone, replaced by princely formality. He had closed himself off. For protection from what was in that file? Or from her…? She sighed, and allowed him his distance.

  At least for now.

  He walked from the room with long, determined strides.

  …

  When the door had closed behind the prince, Kathleen turned toward Jim, who was gathering his materials. “Is there something I should know about Alexander? About that file? Something neither of you is sharing? His negative reaction to the sight of those tattoos was painfully obvious.”

  Jim tapped the edges of his papers on the table to even them out. “The prince’s life is a complicated one. There are things best left private.”

  Unfortunately, as long as she had not definitively ruled out Alexander as a suspect, nothing about his life could remain a closed book. But she could make one promise to the security chief, since he seemed genuinely concerned about his employer.

  “Whatever I learn about Alexander remains with me and my team. I’m not some tabloid reporter eager to sell his scandals to the highest bidder.”

  It seemed she would not have the last word on the subject. “The Ivanov family has not survived this long without safeguarding its secrets.”

  “Then how is it that you seem to know why that photo upset Alexander?” she persisted, needing to understand the dynamics between the two men almost as much as she needed to understand Alexander. There was more history there than she had suspected.

  “I know because I’m his friend. And because I’m his friend, I’ll warn you now. Don’t hurt him.” To signal that their discussion was done, Jim tucked the file under his arm and marched toward the door.

  “Why do you think I can hurt him, Jim?” she called after him, nonplussed.

  Jim paused with his hand on the knob and faced her. “You’re too smart not to see it, even though you’re trying to deny it.”

  He didn’t give her a chance to respond, leaving her alone to ponder his words, as well as Alexander’s uncharacteristic reaction. The photo had struck him hard. She needed to find out why…and how it might impact her investigation.

  That was the bottom line here. Her investigation.

  Nothing else mattered.

  She gathered the materials Jim had provided and hurried to her room. She had a lot to put into action by later tonight.

  Her team had photos of the various escorts who were apparently involved in the laundering. With more people on the ground, they might be able to track some of them down and discover who was giving them the small bills which became chips, and then were once again exchanged for larger bills or transferred to the secret Cayman Island bank accounts.

  If they could catch even one such money exchange, it might lead to some clues as to why Vanessa was missing, or if her disappearance was just a coincidence. Although Kathleen didn’t think so.

  Vanessa had been spooked the night she disappeared. Probably by the man with the Russian mob tattoos, Kathleen figured now. The money laundering fit right in with the kinds of illegal activities in which the mob engaged. White slavery was another, and she hoped for Vanessa’s sake t
hey had decided to make some money by selling her rather than just killing her outright because she had recognized one of them. Kathleen didn’t know what would be the worse fate, but she knew which she’d rather face herself…

  But time was against them. The longer they took to make the connections between the escorts and whoever was providing the dirty money, the lower the odds of finding the missing hostess.

  Aware of that, Kathleen rushed off to get things moving along. By that night she wanted her team on active surveillance of the casino and restaurant. She also planned on having agents back at the office review the man’s tattoos to see if they could provide any information about their possible suspect.

  Finally, she had one last thing to do. She had to reach out to Detective Roman. Maybe he had some knowledge about the Russian mob’s activities in the area.

  Chapter Seven

  The bar where Detective Roman had asked Kathleen to meet him was well off the path beaten by tourists to Atlantic City. The neighborhood was like an over-the-hill actress, painted to try and look new, but beneath that layer the sagging and cracks were hard to miss. The bar was no exception. At one time it had had real windows, but now plywood painted black replaced the glass. She wondered if the damage had occurred during the hurricane and if so, why it hadn’t been repaired after so many months. In the meantime, someone had tried their best to write the name of the establishment in white across one panel, but the paint had faded and smudged into an almost illegible blur.

  Roman leaned against the stained stucco exterior, tossing what looked like caramel-covered popcorn into his mouth.

  She wondered how he managed to keep so trim with all the crap he ate.

  “Detective Roman. Nice place you’ve chosen for lunch,” she said as she approached and inclined her head in greeting.

  He finished off the last of the popcorn, crumpled the bag and flipped it through the open window of a nearby car. His, she assumed. Hoped. Glancing around at the assorted unsavory types loitering nearby, she said, “Aren’t you going to lock it up?”

  He shook his head. “They know it’s my ride. None of them would be foolish enough to snatch it.”