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They didn’t speak to each other until they exited the restaurant, standing together on the edge of the sidewalk as he tried to grab a taxi.
    “You saw him, didn’t you?”
    He turned at her quiet question, his quest for a cab momentarily forgotten. “Saw who?”
    “Don’t play dumb. It doesn’t suit you.” She sighed and shook her head. “I saw him too.”
    “You did?” It wasn’t worth pretending he didn’t know whom she spoke of. Of course, they were talking about Rhett.
    Stasia nodded. “I was tempted to approach him. Again. Did I tell you how I talked to him at the perfume launch party?”
    He frowned. “I read about it.” Everyone had read about it. It was how the entire tragic story first came to light.
    Her lush mouth twisted into a grimace. “Oh right, I forgot. Everyone knows about the night little orphaned Anastasia approached her brother and he turned her away. Though he really didn’t. He was very kind. So was his girlfriend.”
    “Orphaned Anastasia?”
    “You haven’t heard that one?” She sounded surprised. “The media speculates whether my mother named me that on purpose. After all, it’s not an Italian name, and we come from a very traditional Italian family. I’m like that Russian princess. You know the story, don’t you?”
    “Vaguely.” The media was having more of a field day with this story than he’d realized. The minute he got home, he was pulling out his laptop and doing some quick research.
    “She was supposed to be killed with the rest of her family. Her father was the Tsar of Russia. She was a grand princess or duchess or some such thing.” Stasia waved her hand. “But there were always rumors of her escape, even years after the killings happened. A woman came forward and said she was Anastasia, that she’d been lost all this time and wanted to find her family again.”
    The sadness in her voice, radiating from her body, was palpable. The temptation to comfort her, wrap her in his arms and promise to take care of her, was so strong he had to fight every impulse to keep under control. “You’re nothing like that Anastasia, you know.”
    The tremulous smile that curved her lips sliced straight through. “I’m a sad, lost little princess in search of her family. Isn’t that close enough?”

Chapter Four
    The restaurant Gavin took Stasia to was small, dark and nearly empty. The overly friendly waitress seated them at the most intimate table in the entire place, a booth tucked into the farthest corner. The lighting so dim, Stasia’s face was cast in shadow, giving her a mysterious air.
    Making her even more alluring, which was the stupidest thing he’d ever thought, but goddamn, that story about the lost Russian princess had done something to him. Touched him deeply, made him feel awful. Made him angrier than hell and more determined to help her in her quest. It was insane, these feelings of tenderness she evoked within him. He knew what she wanted, what she was all about. It was obvious. She’d been disinherited from one extremely wealthy family, so she planned to latch her claws into another fortune, no matter what it took.
    He needed to remember that. Focus on the calculating way she was going about this. All that sob story bullshit was a way to get to him and it had worked. She was good. Real good.
    But Gavin was better.
    Only after the waitress took their dinner order did Stasia meet his gaze, hers steady and clear, all traces of the earlier princess woe disappeared. “Tell me your plan.”
    Nothing like cutting to the chase. “I’ll contact Alex tomorrow.”
    “How? Are you going to tell him you’re representing me? I think being upfront is the best approach.”
    “Not quite.” He drank from his water glass, trying to figure the proper tactic how to handle this. How to handle her. “The soft approach is best, I think.”
    Her eyes flashed with the briefest hint of anger. “What are you going to do, then? Call him up like an old friend and ask him