She didn’t answer for a moment, trying to control the tears that threatened her makeup once again. “Because he’s gone off in search of this….”
Cutting her off before she started voicing more foul language which would only delay understanding of the issue, he smoothly interrupted, “Why did he have to leave?”
Anya waved her hand in the air as if his question was silly. “Because no one knows where she goes. The rumor mill has her in a million different places so even I can’t find her. I’ve even called all my favors with the press and they’re stumped. You wouldn’t believe what I had to promise to make sure this didn’t get into the tabloids.”
Sergei sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Perhaps you should fill in the details. A name would be helpful.”
“Darcy DiAngelo,” she said with exasperation. “Haven’t you been listening to anything I’ve said?”
“Yes. Of course, but I can assure you that at no point in our conversation did you ever provide a name for this mysterious vixen.”
Anya was having none of that. “Don’t call her anything so complimentary. She’s horrible and she’s ruining my life!”
“I would argue that perhaps Nicolai is the responsible party. Or more specifically, you are giving someone the power to do that to you.”
She waved that aside. “Don’t give me that philosophical mumbo-jumbo, Sergei. Will you help me or not?”
“Of course. I cannot have your fiancé embarrassing the Anchova name. I will have him back at your side for the Brenizi party.”
Anya jumped up, all smiles once again now that her latest problem had been resolved and she didn’t have to lift a finger.
Chapter 4
Darcy woke up and stretched, feeling refreshed and relaxed. Glancing at the clock, she wasn’t surprised to find that it was already two o’clock in the afternoon. Getting in at dawn tended to shift one’s sleep patterns.
Just like the previous evening, Darcy knew how to overcome the shift in daily routine, having done this so many times in the past.
She made herself a cup of herbal tea, stuck a piece of toast into the toaster and walked around in her fluffy pink slippers, humming to herself and doing small chores around the house as her mind and body came fully awake and alert, all the while dodging two gray kittens, one with only half an ear on one side, three dogs and ignoring the rooster that was probably perched right outside her kitchen doorway, waiting in ambush for her to come out and feed him. Darcy wasn’t overly concerned about the rooster, knowing that Matt or Dave had already fed the little beast but he wanted more and thought he could sucker her into giving him an extra handful of corn. He was probably right. Darcy was always amazed that a rooster could have soulful, desperate eyes. Matt and Dave simply shook their heads when she explained why the rooster was begging but Darcy knew that the rooster could beg, even if they couldn’t see it themselves.
The dogs weren’t really the problem this morning. It was the gray kittens that were dodging in between her legs. Although she’d gotten more than enough sleep, that didn’t mean her feet had recovered from the abuse she’d put them through the previous night in her four inch strappy sandal heels. So instead of risking either of the little felines getting hurt, she simply picked both of them up and perched them on her shoulders, exactly where they wanted to be anyway. As soon as they’d gotten their grip on her pink, fluffy robe, they started purring and rubbing her ears trying to get a pet in between the feedings of the dogs.
Matt knocked on the door, then walked in without waiting for a response. “You were a very naughty girl last night!” he said, tossing the latest gossip magazine onto the worn kitchen table. “I think you deserve a break from all these ridiculous creatures,” he replied, bending down to scratch Fred, a monstrously huge German Sheppard behind the ears. Fred groaned, plopping his hairless behind onto the tile floor and closing his eyes in ecstasy. “Don’t you? Are you going to give her some space, you silly dog?”
Matt knew that Fred would do no such thing but the dog loved the attention. Matt stopped scratching and took the only other seat at the table. “So how did it go last night? Everyone behave?” he asked, petting Fred’s head since the dog put his head on Matt’s thigh, right where Fred’s wet nose would barely touch Matt’s hand as if it were a prize to be won. Ginger, a sweet little mutt of unknown heritage, not liking the fact that Fred was getting so much attention, moved closer to Matt and laid across his feet, laying claim to that area of her friend.
“Jeremy was the client last night and he was very much a gentleman.” The water started to boil and Darcy took down two cups from hooks underneath her cabinet.
“Don’t make any of that vile brew for me, dear. If it doesn’t have caffeine in it, there’s really no point.”
Darcy ignored him and poured the boiling water over both herbal tea bags, handing him one with a teaspoon of sugar. “Man can’t live on coffee and soda alone, my friend.” She took the opposite chair and put both kittens back onto the floor, giving them a scratch and a pat in the direction of their food bowls, which were underneath a cabinet where only a creature their size could get to easily. It was the only way she could guarantee that the dogs wouldn’t eat their food.
“And Simon was bar tending last night so he put extra lemon in my drinks so I had added vitamins, thanks to your suggestion, I’m guessing?”
He looked up from the tabloid paper and smiled cheekily at her. “Yep. You mentioned how much you hated the green olives. The lemon peel is just as sophisticated but doesn’t have the ick factor for you.”
She winked in his direction, very grateful for the interference. “Much appreciated. Those olives were doable for the first few drinks but after about ten or eleven, they started to make me gag.”
“What were the pills you were popping last night?” he asked as he read through the article about her exploits from the previous night, taking a sip of the herbal tea and grimacing before putting it back on the table next to him.
She groaned as her own hot tea soothed her sore throat, scratchy this morning from all the smoke in the night club and from yelling over the loud music. “Tylenol. The music and lights were pretty strong last night and I was getting a headache.
He chuckled and shook his head. “You did a great job. I like the little pocket you came up with in the neckline of your dress. Someone saw you reach in ‘subtly’ to get your fix last night and sold it to the paparazzi. Good idea!”