“Explain yourself,” Friedrich said.

  “You explain yourself. Why are you so intent on driving Casey and me apart?”

  “Because she’s unsuitable.” Friedrich pounded the desktop with his fist.

  “She’s a warm, engaging, intelligent woman. The people will love her.”

  “She talks like a fishwife.”

  “She has a few rough edges. Anyone would. Felice had to make some adjustments.”

  “This isn’t about your brother,” Friedrich said.

  “No, it’s about me.” Kurt approached the desk and placed his fists on the edge. “What is it about me that’s different? Why don’t you want me to be happy?”

  “I want you to be happy.” Alarm registered in Friedrich’s eyes.

  Just then, Kurt’s phone buzzed. Damn it all. A New York phone number he didn’t recognize. It could be Casey calling him from someone else’s phone. “I have to take this.”

  “What?” Friedrich shouted. “After what you just said to me.”

  “It could be important…the UN, perhaps.” Of course, he would have let that go to voicemail, but he didn’t have to tell his father that.

  Instead, he walked through the French doors out onto the small balcony and answered the call.

  “Hello.”

  A woman’s voice answered, but not Casey. “Hello, I’m trying to reach a Mr. Schmidt.”

  He rubbed his forehead. “I’m sorry. You have a wrong number.”

  “Really? Mr. Schmidt gave me this number. Mr. Kurt Schmidt.”

  Right…of course...his alter ego as a singing goatherd. “This is he.”

  “Thank goodness. This is Linda from Masters. We have a vacancy for the early show tonight, and we wondered if you could fill in.”

  The singing club. His official date with Casey, and he was thousands of miles away. Damn it. Damn it all to hell and back. “I’m sorry. I’m out of town and can’t make it.”

  “Will you be here tomorrow?” she asked. “We need someone for then, too.”

  He could do that. He’d sleep on the royal jet. He’d be jet lagged, but he’d worked through that before.

  “Yes,” he said. “I’m available.”

  “Great,” she said. “The early show’s at seven. Show up promptly at six.”

  “I’ll be there.” He turned off his phone and put it back in his pocket. If he’d been likely to waver under his father’s anger, fate had taken that choice away from him. Tomorrow night, he’d sing, and Casey would be there. They’d go home together and never spend another night apart.

  He went back into the study. “I have business in New York. I’ll be leaving first thing in the morning.”

  “Against my wishes?” Friedrich said.

  “I’d rather go with your blessing.”

  Friedrich went to a side table, reached to the cabinet below, and pulled out a decanter and a tumbler. The decanter would hold his favorite brandy. The old man had it stashed all over the palace, it seemed. He poured himself a drink and took a generous swallow.

  “I might as well tell you all of it,” Kurt said. “Casey and I have a date to hear me sing in a cabaret.”

  “A cabaret.” Friedrich turned so quickly the brandy sloshed in his glass. “What do you mean by a cabaret?”

  “A nightclub.”

  “Dear God, a son of mine singing in such a place.”

  “It’s a very high-class establishment. I had to audition.”

  “I don’t care if you had an audience with the Pope. No son of mine sings in a cabaret.”

  “I’m only going to do it once. I’m not planning to make a career of it.”

  “Book covers and now singing in nightclubs.” Friedrich drank some more brandy. “What else will that woman have you doing?”

  “I’m going to marry her if she’ll have me.”

  Friedrich made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “Of course, she’ll have you. What woman wouldn’t?”

  “Ilsa wouldn’t have me the way I was before Casey. She said I was dull, and she was right.”

  “So, you’re going to add the woman to my family,” Friedrich said.

  “I am.”

  “And you’ll be bringing her back here with you from now on.”

  “When I come home.” He hadn’t meant to threaten his father, but he’d let it stand. He wouldn’t stay at the palace if the woman he loved was unwelcome.

  Friedrich flinched and then stared into his brandy for a moment. What Grigori had told Kurt before flashed through his mind. His father was frightened. He appeared that way now. Lost. The knowledge twisted in Kurt’s gut, but what choice did he have? He had to get back to New York and the woman he loved.

  The door opened, and Ulrich stepped inside. “It’s quieter in here than I’d thought.”

  “What are you talking about?” Friedrich demanded.

  “Grigori told me to expect fireworks.”

  “Must everyone know my business?” Friedrich said.

  “We’re your sons, father,” Kurt said. “We love you.”

  “Felice and Dev will be along in a minute,” Ulrich said. “Imagine all the love.”

  “Can’t you be serious for once?” Kurt asked.

  “I’m here as reinforcement, big brother. I think we all ought to have some of that brandy.” Ulrich produced two more glasses from the cabinet and filled them then handed a glass to Kurt. He even gave Friedrich another splash before settling himself into one of the chairs in front of Friedrich’s desk. “Let the games begin.”

  “There’s no game,” Kurt said. “I’ve just told our father I’ll be leaving tomorrow morning.”

  “And I gather he didn’t like the news.”

  “You have a keen grasp of the obvious,” Friedrich said. “Why don’t you tell him what you plan to do in New York?”

  “I’m going to sing in a cabaret with Casey in the audience. I promised her.”

  “Really?” Ulrich sat up straighter. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

  “I suppose you think that’s a fine idea,” Friedrich said.

  “Why not? Kurt has a wonderful voice.”

  “Haven’t I taught any of you anything?” Friedrich said. “Book covers. Cabarets. Such nonsense.”

  Just then Dev appeared, and Felice was with him.

  Dev glanced around, his gaze falling on all the tumblers of brandy. “It looks as if you started without us.”

  “Fine.” Friedrich made a grand gesture. “Come in, both of you. All four of you can tell me I’m an ass.”

  “No one’s calling you an ass, father,” Kurt said.

  “He is acting like one,” Ulrich said.

  “Always helpful, Ulrich,” Dev said.

  “Kurt’s told father he’s going back to New York,” Ulrich said. “And father’s throwing a fit.”

  “I am not having a fit!” Friedrich shouted.

  “It looks like a fit to me,” Ulrich said.

  Dev moved to stand beside Kurt. A supportive gesture Kurt would thank him for later.

  “This is really about Casey, isn’t it?” Dev asked.

  “Does everything have to be about her?” Friedrich answered.

  “You’ve never complained when Kurt left for New York before. You appointed him to the UN position,” Dev said.

  “This is different.” Friedrich finished his brandy and set the glass on the cabinet. For a while, he stared at it, appearing small again. For heaven’s sake, the man was well over sixty. They all forgot that from time to time because his personality was so vibrant and so…big.

  Silence ruled for a moment before finally Felice did something. She went to Friedrich and planted a kiss on his cheek. “I’m going to let you men figure this out, but I want you to know something. You’re a good man, and I expect you to do the right thing.”

  That done, she walked to her husband and kissed him as well before exiting the room. She’d put her finger on the situation perfectly. Friedrich was a good man who wanted the best for his sons. They only needed to discover what was making him so difficult about this situation and help him work through it.

  “There was something Grigori said to me,” Kurt said. “Grigori said you were frightened.”

  “Bah,” Friedrich said, but he didn’t put much force behind it.

  “Grigori told me he hadn’t seen you this way since you learned our mother was dying.” There, he’d stepped on the third rail. They all talked about their mother, but they never spoke of her death or the misery that followed it. It had been a bleak time...one they’d only gotten through by sharing each other’s grief. Not exactly a manly topic for discussion. But if it would help them arrive at a solution, he’d wallow through it again.

  Dev’s eyes widened as recognition dawned on his face. “So that’s what this is about.”

  “I don’t follow you,” Ulrich said.

  “You wouldn’t. You were too young. Kurt was, too, as a matter of fact, but he managed, anyway.”

  “I only did what needed to be done,” Kurt said.

  Friedrich still didn’t speak. He simply stood there as if he couldn’t move.

  “Will someone explain to me what we’re talking about?” Ulrich said.

  “When mother died, there were so many obligations. A public viewing, a state funeral, decisions to make,” Dev said. “Father and I were too devastated by her loss. We were no help.”

  “She’d been my wife, my companion, my friend, and she’d given me three children,” Friedrich said quietly.

  “No one’s blaming you, father. Least of all me.” Dev went to Friedrich and touched his arm. “And after the funeral, so many of the people wanted to show how they’d loved her. Charities, cultural groups, women’s organizations. When they spoke of her, father and I fell apart. Kurt got us through it.”

  “I do remember some of that,” Ulrich said.

  “He met with them all. He accepted their gifts and their well-wishes. Sometimes he ended up comforting them,” Dev said.

  “I’d do it again in a minute,” Kurt said.

  “Of course, you would,” Dev said. “That’s who you are.”

  “He’s my right hand,” Friedrich said. “I can’t lose him.”

  “Father, why would you think such a thing?” Dev asked.

  “A good marriage…one with love…becomes the centerpiece of one’s life. I have to know Kurt will be here when I need him.”

  “And so you’d marry me to someone like Ilsa,” Kurt said. “A suitable women, but one I don’t love.”

  “Yes.” Friedrich wouldn’t look at any of them. He stared down at the carpet. “I’m a selfish, old man.”

  “No, father.” Dev squeezed Friedrich’s arm.

  At that, Friedrich glanced up at his oldest son. “This one, she’s so…foreign. She could take him away.”

  “The only way you’d lose him is if you keep him from the woman he loves,” Dev said.

  “You’re all about love, father,” Ulrich said. “For Danislova and her people. For our mother and us. Now for Felice. Let Kurt be like you.”

  Friedrich slowly went behind his desk and sat down. “You’re right. All of you. Damn it.”

  The tension in Kurt’s shoulders eased. Until this moment, he hadn’t realized how much the argument with his father had upset him. He’d still have to get Friedrich and Casey to know each other better, but now he could see a pathway.

  Friedrich looked up at him. “I’m sorry, son.”

  “Nothing to be sorry for.”

  “Apologize to the young lady for me, and tell her she’ll receive a different welcome when she returns to Danislova.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  “Go find your young woman.” Friedrich waved a hand at him. “Sing in your cabaret.”

  Dev’s ears perked up. “Cabaret?”

  “I’ll tell you about it later.”

  “All of you get out of my sight. I have work to do.” Friedrich shuffled his papers. “And Kurt.”

  “Yes, father.”

  “Do get her to clean up her language.”

  “Understood.”

  Likely their father wouldn’t get much done today, but he’d dismissed them. So they all went into the hallway and left Friedrich in peace.

  “So, brother, what’s this about a cabaret?” Dev said.

  “Singing for Casey. It was supposed to be our first date.”

  “Call her and tell her,” Ulrich said.

  Kurt pulled his phone from his pocket. She probably wouldn’t answer, and he’d end up telling the news to her voicemail. “You know what? I think I’ll surprise her, instead.”

  *

  Casey couldn’t find her fucking cell phone. She couldn’t talk to Kurt anymore from work because Phil had ordered her not to. Enough of that crap. She’d already sent out resumes and had interviewed at a few agencies, but until she found another job, she needed this one to pay the rent.

  So, she could catch quick glimpses of texts from Kurt and occasionally open an e-mail from him, but otherwise she had no way to speak to him until she got home. And not only was Phil keeping her late tonight, but she couldn’t check her texts, either.

  She opened drawer after drawer in her desk and shuffled through papers. She never put her phone in here, but she had to check everywhere or go nuts. Five weeks of separation had already made her desperate. She did so not need more aggravation.

  “Casey, what are you doing in there?” Phil called from the living room.

  “My work. What else?”

  “Well, come out here. I need you.”

  “Oh, for the love of…” She got up and went into the living room. Phil wasn’t at the computer but stood in a clear area near the windows.

  “I’m having trouble with a fight scene,” he said. “I need you to help walk me through it.”

  “I don’t know how to fight.”

  “Don’t worry. The other character is a woman.” Phil adopted a sort of crouch, poised on the balls of his feet, his arms held out as if to fend off an attacker.

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Joe Stark is beating up women now?”

  “She’s attacking him.” He waved her a “come on and get it” gesture. “Go ahead. Attack me.”

  Something weird was going on here. Phil never had problems with fight scenes, and why in hell did he have to do it so late? “What time is it?”

  “I don’t know what time it is,” he said. “Come on. Give me your best shot.”

  Without her cell phone, she couldn’t tell for sure, and this time of the year, the sun stayed out into the evening. For sure, they’d seen the other side of five o’clock. Why didn’t he let her go home?

  Phil straightened. “You’re not being very helpful.”

  She fumed silently. She’d love to tell him she didn’t feel like being helpful. She’d love to tell him any number of things, but they’d have to wait until she had another job and could kiss this one good-bye.

  Oh, hell. Maybe she ought to attack him, seeing as he was asking for it. Maybe she could hurt him. “All right. I’m ready.”

  He assumed his pose again, and she backed up a bit to charge him. She aimed her head for his chest and ran at him at top speed. Before she could connect, he caught her, and she ended up sitting on her butt on the floor. Thank God the carpet was soft.

  “Shit, Casey, I’m sorry.” Phil crouched over her. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

  “What did you expect. You’re over six feet, and I’ve never been in a fight in my life.”

  “Neither have I. Let’s try it again.”

  If only she’d taken a self-defense course…one of those classes where they teach you how to flip someone twice your size onto his ass. She’d lay some hurt on the jerk and remind him he asked for it. Nothing gruesome, like gouging his eyes, but putting him a cast for a few weeks would feel pretty nice.

  He resumed his stance, the blond Adonis prepared for battle, so she hauled herself to her feet and tried for a flying tackle. Just as she would have connected with his shins, he sidestepped, and this time she ended up on her stomach. Well, shit. Maybe she’d just lie here for a while.

  While she lay contemplating the carpet, the apartment door opened, and the next thing she knew something was yapping all around her head. When she glanced up, she got a wet dog tongue on her cheek. Then the barking continued, the white ball of fur dancing all around her.

  “Casey, darling, what are you doing down there?” a female voice said.

  Casey rolled over and found herself looking up at the flower of Southern womanhood—Dixie Ann Beaumont, Phil’s ex-wife.

  “I don’t know,” Casey said. “Yoga?”

  “Well, bless your heart,” Dixie said, which roughly translated meant “why would anyone do something stupid like that?”

  “Dixie, we’re working here. Is there some reason for this visit?” Phil said.

  “Yes, Philip.” Dixie always called him by his full name because he hated it. “I’ve brought Cupcake so you can take care of her while I go to Rio with some friends.”

  Cupcake now decided to do his dance around Phil’s ankles, yapping and yapping.

  “Why do I have to take care of her? She’s your dog.”

  “Because you promised when we divorced,” Dixie said. “You know how she hates the kennel.”

  Phil stared down at Cupcake. “The kennel probably hates her.”

  “Aren’t you just the cleverest thing?” Dixie said. “I left Cupcake’s special food in the hall. Be a dear and bring it in.”

  Phil grumbled but complied with Cupcake yapping on after him. Done with the carpet, Casey got to her feet. “Nice to see you, Dixie. How’ve you been?”

  “Great, since I lost two hundred pounds of blond male baggage.”

  “Isn’t he, though?”

  “You’re as pretty as usual. Don’t tell me there isn’t a man in your life.”

  “There was…sort of…for a while.” In her heart, she was still half of a couple, still in love completely. But it had been over five weeks with no word of when Kurt would return to New York. Now she could hardly speak to him. The situation was going from sad to downright hopeless.

  “Tell Dixie Ann all about it, honey.”