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character.”
    Weren’t they all?
    â€œI’m a product. One that sells.”
    He leaned back in his seat. “I think you’re much more than that, Ronie.”
    Ronie. Not Ronyika.
    She put her buds in her ears, her hands shaking.
    Oh, no. For the first time, she considered that she might not want to win after all.

FIVE
    â€œY ou know, bro, you had us totally off the map about this woman. I expected some sort of misbehaving teenager. Vonya is one of the nicest people I’ve ever met.” Luke stood at the window, overlooking Friedrich Strasse. He had rolled his dress shirt up at the cuffs, his blond hair was a wreck—although he liked it messy—and he had a five-o’clock shadow that Chet would disapprove of.
    In fact, he might disapprove of the entire operation. Brody could admit it felt hacked together, slipshod. Thankfully, no one really believed that Vonya was in any danger. Still, their techie, Artyom, in a pair of faded jeans and a T-shirt—the look of a man who stayed behind the scenes—was already monitoring the chat sites, as well as reviewing video coverage from tonight’s event. They’d track faces and see who showed up more than once.
    Outside, the rain had stopped, the street shiny and freshly scrubbed.
    Brody liked Berlin—the grandeur of the Brandenburg Gate, the architecture of the Reichstag.
    Even this hotel had its perks. So what if it was are-creation of a hotel built in 1907—it felt old, with its marble lobby, stained-glass domed ceiling and Art Noveau fountain. And the piano player in the lobby added a touch of class.
    Thankfully, they’d arrived incognito, without Vonya to mock the high-society feel that extended to the rooms, attired in gold and caramel and deep indigo blue. A cityscape picture hung over the double-long caramel sofa in the main living area. Sleek black-leather chairs surrounded a glass-and-metal coffee table, a flat-screen topped a dark walnut console, and in the adjoining room were two queen beds that he hadn’t used nearly enough.
    Brody would have preferred the penthouse for the entire crew, with its adjoining rooms and suite, but Ronie nixed that right off. Instead he’d reserved them suites on one end of the hall—his team’s right across from Vonya and Leah.
    â€œThis is the nice Vonya. I’m not sure where the other one went,” Brody said to Luke’s assessment. He closed his cell phone. Hopefully the guy on the other end understood “pepperoni and mushroom.” His German was so rusty, especially compared to Ronie’s, that he might have just ordered schnitzel on his deep-dish pizza.
    â€œI love her music.” Artyom raised his voice from the adjoining room suite.
    â€œYou wouldn’t know music if it hit you over the head, Russki. I’ve seen your version of entertainment in Moscow. If a disco ball isn’t involved, it doesn’t count.”
    â€œTchaikovsky. Rachmaninoff. Need I say more?”
    â€œRight. Like you’ve ever even heard them. And Vonya’s a far cry from the classics.”
    But, okay, sure, he’d tapped his foot a few times tonight at her show. Even found himself smiling. Especially since the gig had gone off without a hitch.
    He’d counted no less than seventeen wardrobe changes. She had the speed of a supermodel, and frankly, the woman must work out, because the trapeze act, which turned out to be a hit, was nothing less than acrobatic. The pyrotechnics show had him hoping her purple wig was fireproof.
    All in all, it was success. No doubt everyone left a Vonya concert feeling happy. He’d finally figured out her product…happiness. Escape.
    It really wasn’t about music at all.
    Although, he had to admit again, she could sing. What might her real voice, the one behind the mask, sound like?
    Maybe sweet, like her laughter. Like yesterday, when Lyle had trounced her in chess. Although a big part of Brody