Free The Tsarina's Legacy by Jennifer Laam Page A

from under the seat in front of him. “I have everything saved electronically but thought you might want copy of itinerary.”
    He withdrew a red leather binder with an imperial double-headed eagle embossed on the cover. Heads opposite. Beaks angrily agape. He handed it to her. Veronica traced the outline with her finger. It wasn’t so different from the American eagle on her passport.
    â€œI compile schedule, reporters who ask for interview, biographical information—please check accuracy—and background on Society and members.”
    As Veronica thumbed through the laminated pages, Michael peeked over Dmitry’s shoulder. “This looks thorough,” he said. “And overwhelming. I’m not sure Veronica’s schedule is realistic. Will she even get a chance to sleep?”
    That finally drew a scowl from Dmitry. “So where is this you will stay, Mr. Karstadt?”
    â€œThe same hotel as me,” Veronica said without thinking. “Right?”
    â€œYes,” Michael assured her.
    â€œActually, I think he should find other accommodations,” Dmitry said.
    Veronica had a sudden picture in her mind of Michael on a corner of Nevsky Prospect, curled into a sleeping bag while Russian gangsters swaggered past, kicking the cardboard box he used for shelter. “Why?”
    Dmitry turned to Michael. “I know now why name familiar. I have seen in our records.”
    â€œYour records?” Michael said.
    Dmitry shifted his weight. He actually looked uncomfortable, even in his crisp white shirt. “You sought claim on own behalf, were discredited. You are not even Romanov.”
    Michael’s shoulders sagged. “No,” he admitted.
    â€œHe only registered his claim to keep me safe,” Veronica said quickly.
    â€œEven so, Russians lied to for many years by own government. If Mr. Karstadt is exposed as fraud, it could damage your reputation.”
    â€œSomeone should stay in the hotel with Veronica.”
    â€œNo worry,” Dmitry said. “I’ve arranged to stay in room on same floor as Dr. Herrera for duration of stay in St. Petersburg.”
    â€œHow convenient.”
    â€œI did not realize Dr. Herrera was to bring guest.” Dmitry gestured toward the red binder. “Not part of plan.”
    â€œSorry to have burst your bubble,” Michael said.
    â€œWhat bubble? If you wanted to help, you should have let us know.”
    An elegant flight attendant approached their row, holding the seats on either side of the aisle to steady herself on her heels. Thank God. Maybe she would offer them all a drink.
    â€œDoes this mean you don’t want me near Veronica at all?” Michael asked.
    â€œOf course you are still allowed to see her—under my supervision.”
    â€œYour supervision?” Michael said. “I told her grandmother I would keep an eye on her. How am I supposed to explain a different hotel?”
    The flight attendant stopped at their row, gaze fixed on Veronica.
    â€œI’m not an idiot,” Michael said. “I’m not going to do anything stupid.”
    â€œI saw picture in paper,” the flight attendant said to Veronica. Her voice was gentle, like she had once taught kindergarten. “And Lyudmilla said you would be here. You are Romanov heiress. This is honor.”
    â€œThank you,” Veronica said.
    The attendant’s attention flicked to Michael, then Dmitry, and back to Veronica again. “I am told we have a space for you in our President Class. Would you like to move?”
    â€œAbsolutely.” Veronica grabbed her purse. Apparently, fame had its perks.
    â€œAnd your friends…?”
    â€œOh, don’t worry about them,” Veronica told her. She stood up and worked her way to the aisle, briskly—if awkwardly—climbing over Dmitry and then Michael.
    â€œWait … what?” Michael said.
    The flight attendant smiled and clasped her hands