“It’s nice to meet you.” Sydney offered a hand. “I’m sorry about being so late. It’s really my fault.”

“I was only teasing. You’re welcome here. You already know my family.” They were gathering around Mikhail as if it had been years since the last meeting. “And this is my husband, Spence.”

But he was stepping forward, puzzlement and pleasure in his eyes. “Sydney? Sydney Hayward?”

She turned, the practiced smile in place. It turned to surprise and genuine delight. “Spence Kimball. I had no idea.” Offering both hands, she gripped his. “Mother told me you’d moved south and remarried.”

“You’ve met,” Natasha observed, exchanging looks with her own mother as Nadia brought over fresh glasses of wine.

“I’ve known Sydney since she was Freddie’s age,” Spence answered, referring to his eldest daughter. “I haven’t seen her since…” He trailed off, remembering the last time had been at her wedding. Spence may have been out of touch with New York society in recent years, but he was well aware the marriage hadn’t worked out.

“It’s been a long time,” Sydney murmured, understanding perfectly.

“Is small world,” Yuri put in, slapping Spence on the back with fierce affection. “Sydney is owner of building where Mikhail lives. Until she pays attention to him, he sulks.”

“I don’t sulk.” Grumbling a bit, Mikhail took his father’s glass and tossed back the remaining vodka in it. “I convince. Now she is crazy for me.”

“Back up, everyone,” Rachel put in, “his ego’s expanding again.”

Mikhail merely reached over and twisted his sister’s nose. “Tell them you’re crazy for me,” he ordered Sydney, “so this one eats her words.”

Sydney lifted a brow. “How do you manage to speak when your mouth’s so full of arrogance?”

Alex hooted and sprawled onto the couch. “She has your number, Mikhail. Come over here, Sydney, and sit beside me. I’m humble.”

“You tease her enough for tonight.” Nadia shot Alex a daunting look. “You are tired after your drive?” she asked Sydney.

“A little. I—”

“I’m sorry.” Instantly Natasha was at her side. “Of course you’re tired. I’ll show you your room.” She was already leading Sydney out. “If you like you can rest, or come back down. We want you to be at home while you’re here.”

“Thank you,” Sydney replied. Before she could reach for her bag, Natasha had hefted it. “It’s kind of you to have me.”

Natasha merely glanced over her shoulder. “You’re my brother’s friend, so you’re mine.” But she certainly intended to grill Spence before the night was over.

At the end of the hall, she took Sydney into a small room with a narrow four-poster. Faded rugs were tossed over a gleaming oak floor. Snapdragons spiked out of an old milk bottle on a table by the window where gauzy Priscillas fluttered in the breeze.