The Tsarina's Legacy Read Online Free PDF

under the counter and withdrew a flimsy, coffee-stained newspaper. She opened the paper and tapped a fuzzy picture. “This is you.”
    Veronica released the cross, recognizing the picture, a headshot from her former employer. The student photographer had insisted on taking it outside in the bright sunlight and Veronica was squinting like an idiot. Somehow that ridiculous picture had made its way into a Russian newspaper? She gave a brief strangled laugh.
    â€œOne of flight attendants bring this paper from St. Petersburg yesterday. I see here. The necklace … your grandmother is secret daughter of Tsar Nicholas II. A fifth daughter. They take from Russia because family not want more girls. And then rest killed. It is you, yes?” She thrust the paper in Veronica’s face.
    Veronica stared at the article, quickly deciphering the Cyrillic alphabet. The article was short and to the point. After nearly one hundred years, the Romanov throne, or at least a ceremonial version of it, might finally be restored.
    â€œYou are one? We are to have monarchy as in England?”
    She heard the guy behind her whisper: “All of the Romanovs were murdered.”
    â€œNo, is truth,” the ticket agent told him. “This woman is new tsarina.” She turned back to Veronica, nodding encouragingly. “It is you who can help Reb. Are you to come to Russia to meet president? The president will like you. He likes pretty ones. He will listen.”
    â€œHey!” she heard someone from the line behind her shout. “No cutting, asshole!”
    â€œIt’s only for a minute and then I’ll go back,” a man’s voice replied.
    Once more, Veronica froze. She knew that voice too well, remembered the deep, rolling pleasure she felt when it whispered in her ear.
    â€œI’m here to escort this woman to Russia,” the man announced.
    â€œYou’re here to do what ?!”
    Veronica abruptly turned to face him, trying to keep her features neutral and fight the unexpected wave of bitterness. Her ex … whatever he was, Michael Karstadt, smiled gamely as he jostled past the other passengers and made his way to the front of the line. His height allowed her to see him over the crowd. He looked handsome as ever, his face clever and sweet at once. But his wavy dark hair was dappled with more gray than she remembered, and he looked pinched around the eyes and fuller under the chin.
    Even so, he looked good. But he always looked good. No surprise on that front. He wore a dark gray suit, like he thought he was Don Draper and air travel remained the purview of glamorous jet-setters. As she watched him a surge of electricity shot through her chest. Two voices in her head immediately went to war—one wanted to run to him and the other wanted to run away.
    She had no idea why he was at the airport.
    â€œWhat are you doing?” she asked as he approached.
    â€œOh, hey! Nice to see you, too.”
    â€œYou’re going to Russia? The same day as me?”
    â€œI’ll explain in a minute, I promise. Can you keep it down?” he asked the ticket agent as he reached Veronica’s side. He paused to catch his breath. “Nothing has been made public yet.”
    â€œNot true. This already announced.” She tapped the wrinkled fold of the paper. “Who are you? Another American is to help the Romanov?”
    â€œNo,” Veronica said, a slight edge to her voice.
    Michael scratched his head and flashed her a sheepish smile. “Actually, yes.” He faced the ticket agent. “Nothing was supposed to have been announced yet.”
    â€œAnd you aren’t supposed to be here,” Veronica said.
    â€œYou’re about to make a claim for the Russian throne,” Michael said.
    Veronica raised a finger. “An honorary title only. Not an actual claim.”
    â€œEven so, I want to help you. Please let me.”
    The little girl with the cookies looked up at