“Goddammit, Castelianos, what’d you do? Research my life?”
“Hey.” Zach winked. “I’m a trained investigator, remember?”
“OK, so you’re good. It changes nothing. The lady doesn’t need me and I want no part of her. Aside from anything else, I have zero desire to go to Sardovia. Plus, this isn’t, this wasn’t ever my kind of job.”
Zach sighed. “You’re right. The thing is, I need someone she can relate to.”
“Trust me. I’m not that guy.”
“She needs someone she can talk to without worrying that what she says will hit a dozen blogs, someone who can make sure nobody gives her any grief. She needs someone who understands her background. Her culture.” Zach paused. “I suspect she needs that most of all.”
“You’ve lost me.”
“She’s heading home for a betrothal ceremony.”
“A betrothal ceremony?”
“Yeah. It’s like an engagement thing—”
“I know what it is. She’s going to be formally pledged to some dude. Once it’s over, she’s his forever.” Kaz’s mouth twisted. “You sure? Because it’s old school. It’s kind of like handing over property.”
“Different strokes,” Zach said. “And he isn’t just some dude. He’s very rich, says daddy, and very powerful.”
“Do you know his name?”
“Daddy plays things close to the vest. All I know is that the ceremony is on Christmas Day. And she’s a little nervous about it, her father says.”
“She’s some Mr. Big’s Christmas gift?”
“I guess that’s one way to look at it—although why he’d want her is beyond me. I mean, she’s something to look at, all right, but the rest—”
“The rest, what?”
“She’s a little hard to handle. She’s accustomed to barking out orders, she doesn’t like to listen to reason, that kind of thing.”
Kaz sighed. “Better and better. Look, man, I’m not trying to minimize this. You wouldn’t be involved if it weren’t important— I know that. And I’d love to help you, but, you know, I have a fund to run.”
“If I asked you to set everything aside for a couple of days and take on a job that might mean risking your life, you’d do it without a second’s hesitation.”
“If you mean would I rather handle an M16 than a spoiled, stuck-up piece of work—”
The intercom buzzed. Kaz slapped it to life.
“Susan. Whatever it is…”
“It’s the minister, sir. The Sardovian minister. He says he must speak with you.”
“I’ll call him back.”
“Yessir. And there’s something else—”
“Hold all my calls, Susan.”
“But, sir—”
“I said, hold all my—”
The door to Kaz’s office swung open. A woman he’d never seen before marched inside, with his PA right on her heels.