Page 18 of Vienna Bargain

In Vienna they’d walked from the chauffeured car directly onto the plane. In Romania they’d deplaned, walked across the tarmac to the helicopter, and strapped in. The only time she’d ever had to wait was at the dock, when Alexander had left her with Finn while he went inside.

Now they were in cars on the way to the villa. Cars that had driven right up onto the dock after Alexander walked out of what she presumed was some sort of office or administrative center.

She and Alexander were in the middle of the three cars with Jakob at the wheel. Ruslan was driving the first car, and had passengers—the men who’d driven the Fiats to the harbor. Finn and the bags were in the last car.

The Fiats were several years old, and a distinct step down from their previous modes of transportation, but they were freshly waxed and meticulously clean. Alena got the impression that the cars were the best available.

The smaller road they turned onto was in considerably better condition than the motorway, and the smooth ride and gentle vibrations of the motor lulled Alena into closing her eyes, resting for just a moment.

She should be terrified. Or angry. She should feel something but she’d gone numb at some point today. The past two days had been surreal, from the intimacy and heartbreak of her time with Alexander, to the elation of success when she used the HPA, followed by terror when Alexander caught her. And that had only been the first day.

The car stopped and she opened her eyes. When researching Alexander to plot her approach, she’d read about the villa near Lake Beleu, but there hadn’t been any readily available pictures and she hadn’t bothered to hunt any down.

Now she wondered if the lack of pictures was a very strategic move to keep anyone from seeing this monstrosity. She blinked, wondering if she was hallucinating.

Beside her, Alexander sighed. “I didn’t design it.”

Alena turned slowly to look at him, then back to the “villa” though the description was hardly fitting. She stared for another moment, then burst out laughing. Alexander got out and came around to open her door. Alena pressed her lips together to hold back another laugh and took his hand. It didn’t occur to her until after he’d released her fingers that it was the first time they’d touched since she’d accepted his “bargain.”

“What architectural style is this?” Alena gestured to the building. Ahead of them the three Moldovan men were out of the lead car, grinning widely as they grabbed suitcases and hauled them towards the front steps.

“The style is ‘I hired four different architects and five different contractors because it was politically untenable to do anything else’.”

“In that case, it makes sense.”

Ten-meter tall Corinthian columns supported a roof featuring multiple triangular peaks and massive stone urns. A statue of three rearing horses was mounted on the top of the middle peak.

“The horses…” she mused aloud. “They look familiar.”

“The front face is a replica of the Bolshoi Theatre,” Alexander said glumly.

His tone made her laugh, but she quickly covered her mouth with her hand so as not to offend anyone, in case one of the men in the first car had a hand in the design.

“That wing is modeled after the Vatican.” Alexander pointed to the left side of the sprawling structure, which sported a gold dome supported by Ionic columns.

“They could have stuck to one style of column capital,” she said when the giggles subsided.

“It might have impinged on their artistic vision if I asked for any sort of unity.”

“Ah, of course.”

“You can’t see it from here, but the other wing is modeled on a Bavarian castle.”

“I was going to be disappointed if there wasn’t a castle element.”

“The back wing—the footprint is an equilateral cross—is done in a more normal, local style. River rock and brick exterior. I insisted on a veranda that would offer a view out over the protected nature reserve that surrounds the lake. There are columns, but they’re Doric.”

That was the most he’d said to her in two days. And without the slight stutter she sometimes heard, which was clearly the reason he preferred silence.

Her quiet man.

That thought hurt, and she turned away, not wanting him to see her expression in case it reflected what she was feeling.

“This is going to be a bitch to guard,” Finn said in German as he walked up.

Alena watched him out of the corner of her eye. The presence of a fellow countryman had given her a bit of hope. Hope that if things went badly Finn might help her escape.

And if she did escape, Alexander would hunt her down, and with his resources she had no hope of evading him.

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