“I’m supposed to live with someone I don’t know?” I hadn’t even had an opportunity to Google Kovalev.

“It’s not as if you’ll step on each other’s toes there,” Sevastyan said. “You’ll stay encamped at his estate until the threat has been eliminated. Unless you decide to make your home there once the danger passes.”

Voluntarily reside with a stranger? At the dingy Soviet compound? “But how long will it take for the danger to pass? A couple of weeks? A couple of months?”

“This is your life for the foreseeable future.”

My lips parted. My fall vacay had just gotten extended—all because of a father I’d never met. “Tell me what Kovalev’s really like.”

One corner of Sevastyan’s lips might’ve lifted. “He’s nothing like you’re expecting him to be.” A little thawing from the Siberian?

“You genuinely like him. It’s more than just, um, organizational loyalty.”

He nodded. “Kovalev’s the best man I’ve ever known. I respect him more than anyone.”

“How did you meet him?”

“In St. Petersburg. By chance,” Sevastyan said, with a twist of his thumb ring.

“Ah, that explains everything.” Closemouthed Russian.

“Ask Kovalev for the story, if you like.”

Maybe I would. “So what will I be expected to do all day, now that you’ve unenrolled and unemployed me?” Already I had much more energy than I was used to. “It’s going to be difficult to go from hard work to hard leisure.”

“You’ll get to know your father. You’ll enjoy the amenities at Berezka.”

“Little birch? Is that the name of his compound?”

“Da.”

We fell silent. The landscape grew wilder, with more trees and larger properties. We passed gate after gate, each more elaborate than the last.

My nerves were getting the best of me. I fussed with my new coat. A fur one. My grandmother’s.

What if I said something stupid or ticked Kovalev off? I didn’t often put my foot in my mouth, but when I did, I tended to go big in that department as well.

What if the man wasn’t even convinced that I was his daughter and this was some kind of test? I only had Sevastyan’s word on everything. Shit. How much could I really trust him—

“Natalie, rest easy.” He leaned forward and took my hands. “He’s a good man.”

Right when I’d decided Sevastyan was a dick, he had to go and be all understanding. A raw moment of insecurity from me. A raw moment of sympathy from him.

Then he frowned. “Your hands are cold.” As I stared down, he took both of mine between his own. To warm them.

Just as I’d imagined my future, faceless guy would.

I blinked up at him. Had that only been last night?

“Weren’t there gloves for you?”

“I didn’t have a chance to look through everything.”

“Don’t be nervous.” With utter confidence, he said, “You will take it all in stride.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you have everything else.” The car decelerated; he dropped my hands, clearing his throat to say, “We’re here.”

Chapter 11

Guard dogs and machine guns. Why was I even surprised?

At the beginning of the driveway, a pair of two-story white stone towers formed an arc over ornate iron gates. Uniformed men were poised in front of the structure, weapons at the ready, dogs snarling.

Our driver rolled down the window and spoke to a guard, who seemed to be trying to get a look at me. I supposed they must be curious about Kovalev’s long-lost daughter.

A motor whirred as the gates opened. When they closed behind us, Sevastyan relaxed a degree, just as he had once we’d gotten into the air. His expression grew a shade less grim.

“Well.” I exhaled a surprised breath. “That was different.”

“The security has been increased for your presence. Kovalev will take no chances. But you shouldn’t be frightened. We won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I’m not frightened, I’ve just never been out of the Corn Belt before. And now this . . .”

“I know, pet.” I caught his glance at my lap, where I was twining my fingers together, and thought he had the impulse to hold my hands again. But he didn’t.

The drive meandered through what looked like a park, with hill after hill of golf course–quality lawn. The sun began to break through lowering clouds.

I wanted to pay attention to everything, to memorize my first experience here, but again I was distracted by Sevastyan.

As we crossed a charming wooden bridge, I noticed he was analyzing me. Determining my reaction to this place?

The trees grew more numerous, dense forests changing colors with the fall. The leaves on the birches and other hardwoods were a riot of burnished orange, russet, and gold—gold like Sevastyan’s eyes.

When we neared a colossal structure beside a lake, I cried, “Is that it?” The walls and columns were ivory, the tiled roof topped with three copper domes, green with patina. “Domes! Oh, it’s gorgeous!” No dingy, Soviet-era monolith here. The lake was so glassy, the building cast a surreal reflection. I was in love, ready to declare myself home—

“That’s the lake folly.” At my raised brows, Sevastyan added, “A quaint place for guests to take tea.”