"Okay, enough. Both of you," insisted Sasha, rising gracefully to her feet. "In case you've forgotten, today is my birthday. It's why Matthew arranged for you both to fly into town - first class no less - and reserved one of the nicest suites for you at the Gregson Hotel for three nights. And why he's taking us out to dinner tonight at one of the best restaurants in San Francisco to celebrate. So, please. Can you stop arguing for the next few hours so we can enjoy the evening? Please."
Enzo's features softened instantly, and he was at his daughter's side in the next moment. "My bebé," he crooned, cupping her cheek in his hand. "My lovely Sasha. Of course your mother and I will behave ourselves to honor your birthday. I will do my best to ignore that crazy woman during our dinner, so that we can all enjoy ourselves, yes?"
"Crazy!" screeched Katya. "You are the crazy one, Enzo! And you have been driving me crazy for almost thirty years. The first time you left me I should have never taken you back. My life would have been much more peaceful if I had listened to Polina and married that nice Russian man who lived across the street from us in Paris."
Enzo smirked. "That old fool? You would have killed him after just one year - either by giving him a heart attack with all of your dramatics, or causing him to hang himself because he couldn't take any more of it. Katya, meu amor, I am the only man alive capable of handling you, and you know it. Now, no more arguing, hmm? Sasha is right. It's her birthday, and Matthew has been kind enough to make all of these plans so we could celebrate together. So now we celebrate, not fight. Agreed?"
The expression in Katya's green eyes was almost deadly as she glared at Enzo, but she merely nodded in response. "Yes. Agreed. Even if I want to break that vase over your head right now."
"Please don't," begged Matthew. "It's one of the few things I like in this place. And according to the bill from the decorator, that vase cost around five thousand dollars."
"For this?" Katya flicked a finger over the simple pottery urn disdainfully. "Hmm, I think maybe this decorator - how do you say it, Sasha - tore him off?"
"Ripped him off," corrected Sasha patiently. "Regardless, Mama, that's Matthew's business, not yours. Now, as soon as Papa wipes the blood off his mouth, we should leave for dinner."
Enzo grinned at his only child and obligingly dashed inside the guest bathroom to clean himself up a bit. During his brief absence, Katya wasted no time in unleashing a rapid fire stream of Russian at Sasha, and Matthew wryly assumed that the older woman was complaining loudly and bitterly about her on-again, off-again lover.
It had been quite a kick meeting Sasha's parents, he thought in amusement, and since they had arrived in town last evening he hadn't been bored for even a second in their presence. And while their personalities couldn't have been much different - fun-loving, gregarious, and easily amused Enzo, and the fiery-tempered, stubborn, and hard to impress Katya - the physical and emotional attraction between the couple practically gave off sparks every time their eyes met.
The more time he had spent in their presence, the more Matthew had marveled at just how different Sasha was in temperament and personality from either of her parents. She was most definitely her own woman, with her own unique set of values and beliefs, and if she hadn't born a noticeable physical resemblance to them, there was no way he would have believed them to be her parents.
Sasha and Katya were built along very similar lines - of medium height, small frame, and leanly muscled. Sasha's figure seemed a bit softer than Katya's, who was bordering on being skinny rather than slender. Matthew guessed the older woman was under constant pressure from the producers of her television show to look as thin as possible for the cameras, and judging from the way Katya watched her diet like a hawk he was willing to bet his hunch was right.
Without the spray-on tan she always applied for the television show, Katya's natural complexion was much lighter than the pale gold skin tone Sasha had obviously inherited from her father. Matthew suspected that Katya's carefully groomed mane of silky blonde hair owed most of its color these days to a bottle, though he had little trouble believing that the shade had once been her natural hue. And unlike her down-to-earth daughter, Katya loved clothes - expensive designer labels from what he'd been able to determine - like the sleek burgundy wool sheath dress and high heeled black leather ankle boots she was wearing now. Her gold earrings, chain necklace, and diamond studded bangle bracelet were discreet but obviously costly, and her strikingly lovely face was expertly made up. She looked glamorous and sophisticated, and much younger than her forty-nine years.