Her Russian Hero (International Romance Series) (30 page)

* * * * *

Sergei Fedorin propped his booted
feet on the desk, his hand still holding the phone receiver he just dropped
into its cradle. A muscle flicked angrily in his jaw. The selfish oaf had
refused to receive him and hear his side of the story. Typical of the Minister
of Defense who was always on the side of the highest-ranking lobbyist. Right
now his ex-father-in-law had the ear of a close friend of the President. If
Sergei couldn’t talk to his boss, how could he defend himself against Roussov’s
accusations?

He recognized Roussov’s careful
plan. To think he’d made it easier for him with an envelope of dollars in his
pocket. If his mind had been clear and not muddled by his anger about Cecile’s
picture with Roussov, he’d never have started such a stupid fight. All that
mess, because he wanted to save Cecile a trip to the restaurant, because he
wanted to make sure she wouldn’t evade his questions again.

She’d been so beautiful with her
hair pulled up, revealing a slim alabaster neck. Hovering so close to her, his lips
had yearned to rain thousands of kisses on her slender throat and down to the
scooped neckline of the blouse. More than once, he had itched to snatch her up
in his arms and carry her off to her room. But he couldn’t. She was the hostess
and the heroine of the party.

Cecilya, the secret fiancée he
loved so much.

How he longed to throttle her
pretty neck. She’d lied to him, consorting with his worst enemy, while melting
in Sergei’s arms and ensnaring him with kisses. In that awful picture, she was
practically sitting in Roussov’s lap, a big smile on her lips. He wasn’t
jealous of Roussov. He realized the snake must have trapped her into meeting
him but Sergei felt betrayed by her silence and her lies. He loosened his tie
to breathe better.

Sergei was sure the dinner had to
do with the permit. Why did she deal with that son of a
dourak
? Why
didn’t she come to him and tell him she needed help to get the equipment? He
could have used his authority to get the permit.

The press would publish the
damning pictures that would ruin his reputation and cost him his position as
Major
Generalle
.

 How could he ever trust her
again?

* * * * *

Both the U.S. Ambassador and the
Minister of Environment had promised to talk to the Vice-President. Cecile
needed to knock on two more doors. In fact, it was Tania who rang the bell at
the Vice-President’s house, a white villa in a secluded residential area, where
a guard stood at attention, next to the front door.

The stunning figure, molded in an
apricot suit with a fox boa looped around her neck, could graciously adorn the
cover of a Vogue magazine. She glided on three-inch heels over the icy
sidewalk. Tania, her chauffeur’s cap tilted on her forehead, rushed to open the
door. Her client contorted right and left to heave her tightly clad body onto
the backseat.

Tania yanked open the front door.
“Dr. Lornier,” she asked in a respectful tone. “May I suggest you move to the
backseat next to Natalia Galinova, our Second Lady.”

Cecile didn’t waste a second to
sit in the back. The gorgeous redhead with almond-shaped eyes smiled at her.

“Mrs. Galinova, I’m honored to
meet you. I am Cecile Lornier.” Cecile used the polite jargon she had perfected
since coming to Minsk.

“Oh
Sissyl
, yes, I have
heard so much about you.
Moy drouk
, you know, my friends, they say you
enhance the woman’s cause. You toasted the wives, yesterday. I wish I could
have been at the reception.”

“Oh yes. Too bad you couldn’t
come. We had a wonderful reception,” Cecile said, while digging her nails into
her palm.
Patience, Cecile
. She had to proceed slowly and surely.

Natalia sighed and pouted. “My
husband does not like to go to any fun places. At home, I receive only
political men. I try to make the boring dinners fun. I knew your reception
would be fun… He would not let me go alone anywhere, except shopping with Tania
or tea with my lady friends.” The baby-blue eyes twinkled. “Without Tania, I
would be a prisoner in my beautiful house.”

Cecile listened carefully, nodded
in understanding and smiled with empathy, afraid to make her request too soon
and alienate the pretty doll. Time was of the essence for Sergei but any wrong
move or word could jeopardize her mission. Gathering her last shred of
patience, she complimented Natalia on her elegant outfit and humbly admitted
she could use some advice in the field of fashion.

The Second Lady examined her
thoroughly, with the same quizzical glance Tania had used the first time she
took her shopping and summarized her assessment. “You are quite pretty,
Sissyl
but hmm, excuse me, you do not dress very ladylike.”

She said something in Russian to
Tania who answered in English. “
Da, da
, I told Cecile the same thing.
She needs more feminine clothing. Today, you will have an expert to help you,
Cecile. Natalia used to model.”

“I appreciate your interest so
much.” Cecile nodded.
I’ll buy whatever clothing you suggest. God, I’ll even
spend a fortune on futility as long as you help Sergei.

She had an hour, one single hour,
to build a friendship with the Second Lady and then lay her cards on the table.

In the boutique, Cecile let
Natalia order clothes for her and dutifully tried them. She bought her new
mentor’s choice and paid without bargaining, thus winning the everlasting
gratitude of the boutique’s owner and Natalia’s friendship.

As they left the boutique and
rode back in the van, Cecile grabbed her companion’s hand and smiled coyly.
“Natalia, I don’t know how to thank you. I’m sure Sergei will like my new
clothes. I will tell you my secret but it’s not official yet. The Major General
has asked me to marry him. I accepted and I’ll stay in Minsk.” She waggled her
finger to show her ring.

Natalia clapped her hands and
Tania slammed on the brakes. “Watch out,” Cecile screamed.

“Is it true, Cecile?” Tania
twisted her head and the van slid sidewise.

“For heaven’s sake keep your eyes
on the road and let me talk to Natalia.”

Their driver apologized and
resumed her driving at a slower pace while listening to the backseat
conversation.

Natalia bent to kiss her on the
cheek. “I am so happy for you. Oh
Sissyl
, I am glad you will live in
Minsk. We can be good friends. I will teach you to dress well and you will
teach me to be like you, a strong woman.”

Cecile clasped her hands in her
lap, wondering how to broach her demands.

“Why are you so nervous? I will
help you with the wedding arrangements,” Natalia said with a bright smile.

“Thank you, Natalia. There is
something terrible you can help me fix. Last night some photographers took a picture
of Sergei leaving my room. He got so upset and ended in a big fight with them.
The National Security guards interfered.”

The pretty woman gasped. “They
arrested our Major
Generalle
? Impossible. All Belarus will protest.”

Cecile reached for her hand and
patted it. “No, no. They didn’t arrest him but I got Sergei into big trouble.
Natalia, I was supposed to pay for the reception at the restaurant but I was so
tired. You know how gallant the general is.” She was giving the story a
romantic twist. “He took the envelope containing the money and went to pay for
me. But he got into the fight before he had time to pay. And Roussov found the
money.”

“So what is the problem?” Natalia
narrowed her almond-shaped eyes.

“The money was in dollars,”
Cecile said with a sigh.

“Oh.” Exclamations echoed from
the front and back seats.

Cecile continued to press her
point. “I explained to the National Security Director the money was mine.
Sergei was going to pay the restaurant on my behalf, but the officer wouldn’t
listen.”

“Are you talking about Colonel
Roussov? Of course, he wouldn’t listen. He hates the
Major Generalle
. He
was Sofya’s father. Everyone knows that. Oh I am sorry, maybe you do not know?”

Exasperated by the slow-motion
discussion, Cecile almost shook the manicured hand. “Natalia, I need your help.
Can you talk to your husband? Ask him to help Sergei?”

Chapter Twenty-four

Sergei glanced at his watch. Two
in the afternoon. The Minister of Defense had not returned his call. Sitting
behind his desk, he sighed in frustration.

Unable to cope with the
demoralizing inactivity, he headed down the dark hallway and stomped up the
stairs to the minister’s office. He knocked on the door of the antechamber and
admitted himself. “
Dobroye
deen
, good day, Mikhayel, is our
minister here?”

The officer straightened up and
saluted, “Yes,
Generalle
Fedorin. I will tell him you are here to see
him.”

Sergei raised a hand toward the
secretary. “Don’t bother, Sergeant. I know my way.”

Without giving him the time to protest
or move away from his desk, Fedorin wrenched the door open, entered and closed
it behind him.

“
Dobroye outroh
, Minister
Anatov.”

The minister bolted from his
chair. “
Generalle
Fedorin, how dare you?”

Sergei strutted to the desk and
leaned toward his boss, both palms braced on the shining wood. “Minister, you
haven’t returned my calls. You should have expected me to come,” he flared
through clenched teeth. “I wasn’t going to spend my day and evening waiting
like a lamb to be slaughtered while others shredded my reputation.”

His boss slumped back into his
chair and folded his arms. He leveled an icy stare at Sergei. “Fedorin, you
have a lot of nerve to force my door and complain. The
Major Generalle
fighting photographers, beating the Director of National Security, accepting a
foreign bribe and consorting with the American Program Manager. And you claim
others are dirtying your good name?”

Sergei settled in a chair facing
his boss and recovered his usual calm. Dealing with ministers often amounted to
playing diplomatic games with a sober and rational mind.

“Minister Anatov, your reports
are false,” Sergei declared with aplomb.

His boss banged a fist on the
desk. “I saw pictures, Fedorin.”

“Pictures can be deceiving. If
you listen for a minute, I’ll explain.”

The minister balked at his cool
assertiveness. “You were always the most aggressive in the war field. This is
not a war, Fedorin. You cannot hit and win. I have no time for your crap.
Answer my questions. Were you in the American woman’s room last night?” he
bellowed while hunching over his desk.

Sergei shoved his hands in his
pockets and clenched them in tight fists. The blood pounding in his ears, he
itched to hit the man who was muddying his relationship with Cecilya. “Yes, I
was in my fiancée’s room.” The truth could not hurt, even if in his heart, it
wasn’t the truth anymore. He waited for the minister’s response.

A blank expression answered him.
Then his words began to sink in and jerked the minister out of his stupor.
“Your what?”

“My fiancée, sir. I asked Dr.
Cecile Lornier for her hand in marriage. She agreed to marry me and stay in
Minsk. She will become Belarusian and will volunteer at the Belchem Lab.” He
dared the man to find a wrongdoing. “Our engagement is official. I gave her my
mother’s ring two weeks ago.”

The minister lost his voice for a
moment. “Well, well.” He fidgeted with a pencil. “Oh well.” For a second,
Sergei noticed a glint of admiration and envy in his boss’s eyes. “You always
manage to find an answer and a way out,” he mumbled, then seemed to reconsider
and resumed his arrogant stance. “Regardless of this love story, you accepted
foreign money from her and hit several men.”

Sergei forged a quick plan to
deflect the resentment of his superior onto the Director of National Security.
“Minister Anatov, you attended the inauguration and the evening party. You
witnessed Dr. Lornier’s effort. My fiancée was exhausted. She still had to pay
the restaurant. I tried to save her the task and asked her to rest while I paid
for her. Any gallant man, you included, would have done the same for his lady.”
It sounded reasonable to his ears and probably to his boss’s ears. The minister
cleared his throat.

Sergei pressed his point.
“Minister Anatov, like everyone else in this ministry, you’ve heard of Colonel
Roussov’s hatred for me. Don’t let his personal vendetta discredit me and
overshadow your organization.” He was pleading now, knowing damn well his
boss’s patronizing taste.

Sergei followed the relaxing of
the minister’s scowl and its sudden reappearance. “Fedorin, I’ve seen Roussov
this morning. You almost killed your father-in-law. His face is black and blue.
His jaw is swollen and his eye sunken. I promised him justice will be done.”

Time, he needed time. “Yes, sir.
I too want justice. But don’t let a scandal spatter over the Ministry. It will
affect you as much as Roussov and me and each one of your officers. It will
also reflect on your superior, the Vice-President. Stop the press from printing
the misleading pictures that Roussov ordered a dishonest journalist to take.”

His fingers thrumming on the
desk, the minister stared at the wall, a sure sign of concentration. “Damn it,
Fedorin. Why couldn’t you control your temper? My organization has been running
smoothly. I don’t need a scandal to mess it up. I will stop the printing of
these pictures. But I warn you. I’ve started a full investigation.
Dobroye
deen
. Good day,
Generalle
.”

Sergei released a heavy breath.
He’d convinced his boss to stop the printing of the pictures that would damage
his public image but until he turned the table on Roussov, he was still in a
mess.