Page 83 of Lethal Legacy

My heart lurches uneasily. “I knew they were in an Easter production. I didn’t know it was a procession.”

His face darkens. The children exchange resigned looks that hurt me inside.

We sit in silence as the chef comes in and takes the soup plates, replacing them with fish and salad. When he leaves, Ofelia says resentfully: “I suppose that means you won’t let us go.”

Mickey’s head is down, hair flopping over his eyes. Masha is quiet for once, her eyes downcast. Ofelia stares flatly at Roman, her expression daring him to argue.

“It would have been nice,” Roman says grimly, “if someone had advised me of what these celebrations entailed.”

She folds her arms, having not touched her plate. “We told Stefania, the old au pair. She signed the consent forms.”

“You mean you tricked her into signing them.” Roman’s face is flat and uncompromising. “Which, I imagine, is why she quit after less than a week.”

Ofelia shrugs sullenly. “It’s notourfault she couldn’t read Spanish properly. Or understand Russian.”

“You deliberately manipulated her.” Roman puts both hands on the table and glares at her. “You know very well I would never have agreed to this.”

She cuts her eyes to me. “Are you going to take his side?”

Suddenly all three children are staring at me.

Oh hell.

“Manipulating Stefania was unkind,” I say quietly. “She clearly felt she had no choice but to quit after she discovered she’d been tricked into doing something she knew Roman wouldn’t agree to. On the other hand”—I turn to Roman—“Stefania obviously chose to quit rather than face you and try to explain, just as the children chose to lie rather than come to you and ask permission.”

“But—” Ofelia starts to protest.

“It’s not your place—” Roman begins, his face thunderous.

I hold up both hands. “I’m not taking sides,” I say to Ofelia. And”—I turn to Roman—“I understand that it’s not my place to argue. But the parade is the day after tomorrow. The children already have parts and are clearly excited about being a part of it. Maybe we could at least find out what they’re doing. Mickey?” Ignoring Roman’s furious expression, I smile at Mickey. “Do you have a part in the procession too?”

His eyes dart nervously between Roman and me. “I-I’m doing all the audio programming.”

Roman frowns. “What do you mean, you’redoingthe audio? Don’t you mean you’re helping someone?” When Ofelia tries to break in, he shakes his head, silencing her. “I asked your brother. Mickey?”

“No, I’m not helping.” Mickey actually meets Roman’s eyes, and there’s the faintest touch of challenge in his voice. “I’ve set it all up myself, programmed the timing, everything.” When Roman doesn’t immediately answer, he goes on in a slightly stronger voice. “And it wasn’t just Ofelia who tricked Stefania. We all wanted to be a part of the procession, and we knew you wouldn’t say yes.”

“Mickey,” says Ofelia warningly, glaring at her brother.

“’Felia is real strict,” Masha pipes up. “She watches Mickey an’ me all the time.”

I turn to Ofelia. “Do you actually have a part in the procession, Ofelia?” I ask gently.

She hesitates for a moment before answering, then shoots me a slightly defensive look. “No.”

Roman’s frown deepens. “Then why did you lie about it?” He gives her a hard look. “Are you trying to see some boy, Ofelia? Because if that’s what this is about, then let me tell you—”

She pushes back her chair abruptly and stands, glittering eyes staring Roman down with absolute fury. “How dare you,” she starts in a trembling voice.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake.” I touch her hand to stop her and give Roman a death stare of my own. “Haven’t you been listening? Ofelia is there so she can watch out for her brother and sister.” I turn back to Ofelia. “You tricked Stefania into signing that form because it’s so important to Mickey and Masha, didn’t you? But you couldn’t tell the security guards about it, so you’ve been watching them yourself.”

She gives me a little nod then lowers her head, staring down at the table, but not before I see the telltale sheen of tears in her eyes. At the other end of the table, Mickey’s face darkens, and he turns to face Roman. “You always blame Ofelia for everything, but it’s not her fault she gets in trouble. It’s you who keeps sending her away to school, when all she wants is to be with us.”

Roman stares at him, then at Ofelia’s lowered head. Mickey returns his stare with a hard blue look of his own, which I can’t help but admire. Expecting Roman to absolutely lose it, I’m rather surprised when he addresses Ofelia in a far gentler tone. “Is that true, Ofelia?”

“’Felia wants to stay wiv us.” Masha glares at her godfather. Sliding from her chair, she slips her hand into her sister’s. “Can we please be ’scused,” she says, with remarkable dignity for a five-year-old.

“Ofelia?” I touch her wrist lightly. “Is that why you keep getting expelled? So you can be at home?”

---