Page 28 of Girl Anonymous

“Why?”

“You have the look of the Daire Romani. And to…” He hesitated.

Now he was being delicate? “To who?”

“You have a striking resemblance to that old portrait of Vlad Tepes.”

Vlad Tepes. Vlad Draculea. Romanian prince of such cruelty and fame he inspired the fictional character Dracula. “I have never impaled anyone.”

“Nor have I, although I cannot promise that in the past some Arundel has not.”

For safety measures, she had changed her appearance, but the complexion, the eyes, the mouth—nothing could be done to disguise them. Not that she should want to. Not that she should need to. But something about knowing that how she looked could result in explosions and gunshots, execution and bloodshed, made her think cutting her distinctive dark red hair was no great sacrifice. Wearing reading glasses she didn’t need was a subtle subterfuge. Attracting no attention had been her goal…and now she had flung herself into the forefront of the blood vendetta by attempting to rescue Mrs. Arundel…and sleeping with Dante Arundel.

She put her hand to her forehead. What she’d done over the past twenty-four hours had been nothing but events in her life…and they would possibly end it. How had a few hours managed to gain such importance?

She looked up to see Dante watching her, his somber expression telling her all too clearly he knew what thoughts possessed her. “What convinced her that I was…the little girl?”

“She had me watch the security video. I remembered you.”

“I remembered you, too.”

“You knew me at once.”

She sighed. It wasn’t something she wanted to admit, but… “Yes. I recognized you. It’s all in my mind in flashes of memory. Except at night, in my dreams, it’s a video. My mother had told me what to do. She had instructed me over and over, but I was…stupid, young. We came into that magnificent room. That man with the mean face laughed at me and I cried. Then I was playing and I glanced up and you were watching. You were frowning. The nice man gave me lemon candies.”

“Our butler, Andere. He was injured in the blast.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” She was. She’d eaten one candy, slipped the rest into her pocket, and that night they were all she and Aunt Yesenia had to eat.

“We did look for you,” Dante assured her.

“I never doubted that.”

“Not to kill you.”

She had nothing remotely civil to say to that.

“The family is legitimate now. The deaths and chaos caused by…your mother convinced my mother it was time. According to Arundel tradition, she should have retired to a convent and worn a widow’s veil to mourn Benoit until the end of her days.”

“Medieval,” Maarja muttered.

He stroked her fingers as if to give her strength. “If she was going to remake the organization in her vision, if she was going seize control from among the contenders, her sight needed to be omniscient, her reach had to be far, and her justice had to be swift and brutal.”

Again her perception of Raine Arundel shimmered and shifted. “Yes. I understand. I think.”

“I have a number I want you to memorize.”

“Number?” Where had that come from?

“A phone number. In case you need me for any reason.”

“Like if someone is trying to kill me?” She really hoped that wasn’t what he meant.

He kissed her fingers. “Or you’re pregnant.”

She also really hoped he didn’t think that. “Listen. If I am, you don’t have to worry about it. If there’s one thing I know from my upbringing, it’s how to raise a child alone. You don’t have to be involved.” She was trying to be reassuring, but found herself pressed into the pillows, a big angry, broad-shouldered man leaning over her.

“Do not even—” he separated the words into individual threats “—think that’s going to happen. My child will have two involved parents who love and guide him or her orthem.”

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