5 Deal Killer by Vicki Doudera

they watched the petite woman and her bulky friend depart. “What was that all about?”
    “I’m not exactly sure. Natalia wants to forget about the threatening letter and doesn’t seem the least bit concerned for her safety. She’s willing to put her investigative paper—and presumably a new career—on the back burner, too.” Darby paused. “I don’t know what’s going on, Miles, but if I had to guess, I’d say Natalia’s in love.”
    Miles grinned. “Ah! You think she’s met a prince, and he’s swept her right off her feet. In other words, a bloke kind of like me, is that it?”
    Darby reached up and kissed him. “Let’s hope Natalia’s that lucky.”

six
    Friday afternoons in New York were full of anticipation. The weekend, with all of its promise, lay before the hordes of business-suited office workers like a treasure chest of possibility. Stiletto-wearing women longed for the comfort of forty-eight hours in flat shoes, and nannies, such as Gina Trovata, looked forward to a weekend free of diapers, oatmeal, and fraternal fighting.
    Small wonder she found herself astonished when she volunteered to take a Saturday morning shift.
    “Just the little boys,” Sherry pleaded. “The big guys have tee-ball tryouts, and Penn’s got to work.”
    “I’ll be here.”
    “Great. He’s going to have to stop these crazy weekend hours if we’re going to have any semblance of a family life, but you know Penn—his work is like a drug. And after all, it is tax season.”
    Gina nodded. There were times she suspected that Penn stayed away for more reasons than just work, but she kept those suspicions to herself. Instead she smiled fondly at Trevor, reached down to hug him. “We had a good time in the park today, didn’t we Trevvie?” He gave a sloppy grin before scooting off to find his older brothers.
    Sherry kept an eye on his progress. “Does he seem as if he’s doing any better?”
    Gina answered quickly. “Definitely.” Trevor was taking his time in learning to walk, a development which greatly worried his Type A mother.
    A sigh. “I hope so.” She brightened. “I’ve ordered in Chinese. Want to stay for dinner?”
    “No, thanks.” Gina gathered up her vintage Dolce and Gabbana. If she hurried she would just make the crosstown bus. “See you at eight.”
    The lobby bustled with activity as Gina worked her way through the executives returning home from work. She gave Ramon a wave, and when he called out, “Have a good weekend,” told him to do the same. Stopping to explain that she’d be back in the morning to put in more time might mean waiting twenty minutes for another bus.
    A couple pushed by her, talking animatedly. The young woman looked familiar, and Gina took in her petite frame and two-tone hair while racking her brain for the name. Then it came to her: this was the Russian heiress with the murdered fiancée. Natalia Kazakova . The man with her was tall, sandy-haired, and good-looking in an angular sort of way. His gaze was directed toward Natalia, and yet Gina noticed that he seemed to be scoping out the lobby by looking over, rather than directly at, her. Gina smirked. He obviously didn’t realize he was already with the richest person in the room.
    Where’s the bodyguard? Gina asked herself. Not like he’s usually hard to spot or anything. A moment later she saw the big, bulky man enter the building, his demeanor alert, a discreet seven or eight steps between his client and himself.
    The bodyguard gave Gina a nod of recognition as they passed. He’s good , she thought. After all, I only met Natalia the one time .
    She left the building, emerging into the late afternoon sunshine and throngs of purposefully striding people. The mood felt light, as it should on a Friday in spring, but Gina was remembering a very different scene, months earlier, when she’d first met Natalia. It was back in the fall—October, she realized—just before Halloween. In fact, it was the holiday (if