A Waltz With Wolves (Book II in The Harrison Inc. Series) | ✓

Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Line Between 'Safe' and 'Scandal'

**

I suppose I look like her.

My mother, I mean. I see the resemblance - huge eyes that appear vacant most of the time. Dark hair, sharp nose. She's a very beautiful woman, Genina Malatova - that's a fact I can believe. But my mother? I'm still processing. I'm still under the impression that Jamie McLelland is my mother; that Jamie is somewhere in Scotland waiting for me, and that Sebastian has no idea what he's talking about.

I have spent the better half of the first week of August staring at photos of Genina. I've been reading autobiographies about her family and about her journey to becoming Queen of Venetia (a country that I have never visited, and am reluctant on visiting now). When her father - my grandfather - Josef Malatova suffered a stroke that left half of his body paralyzed, the Venetian parliament and Josef himself deemed it absolutely necessary for Genina to take her father's place as ruler of Venetia. No one ever expected to see Genina on the throne at such a young age; Josef was very young himself when his stroke happened. But Josef was and still is wheelchair bound, has permanently damaged speech and cannot take care of himself, so him remaining King of the country would have been a disservice to everyone, I suppose.

I don't know why I'm torturing myself with all of this right now. Claire's birthday party planning should be my priority, not to mention the dozens of other things I have left to do. But I can't break away from my computer screen holding this still shot of her - Genina standing taut, blue ribbon draped around her shoulder weighed down by royal pins. A large crown is on her head sparkling with jewels that probably add another ten pounds to its weight. She was my age when she took this photo - twenty-seven. And in my head, I'm trying to figure out where I came in during this time? How did she manage to keep her pregnancy a secret?

Does she wonder where I am? Does she even care to meet me?

I close my laptop when my intercom turns on - Alejandro is downstairs. I buzz him in and prepare myself to look as if I'm perfectly fine in the physical and mental sense. He knows about my mother - my apparent mother. He asked if I was going to try and come in contact with her.

"I don't know," I answered honestly. "I doubt I'll ever even get through to her; she's royalty. There's no way I could get in contact easily."

Three knocks on the front door. I walk and open it to find Alejandro leaning against the door frame, already certain that I have been doing myself a disservice by stalking Genina online.

I welcome him inside my apartment. He slowly walks in, observing everything like he expects something unusual to appear.

"I'm making tacos," I announce to try and kill the silence. "You like tacos, right?"

I realize how racist that statement is when Alejandro starts laughing.

"I-I'm sorry, I-I didn't...I know you're not Mexican and I didn't mean to assume I just thought that you would like tacos - "

"It's fine." he finishes laughing. "If you're making them, then yes, I do like them."

Alejandro easily sees through my mask. Once I retreat into the kitchen to begin cutting lettuce and tomatoes, he comes up right behind me, snaking his arms around my waist in an attempt to show some type of empathy.

I sigh. "Alejandro, you don't have to do this."

"Do what?" he says, resting his chin on the top of my head.

"Feel sorry for me. I'm doing alright, believe it or not."

"I'm not feeling sorry for you. I'm actually just seeing how you cut the tomatoes."