Bedded by Her Bodyguard(30)

Unfortunately, Marcus’s youngest-child syndrome shone through his words and gestures, backed up by his doting family. Mindy needed to dig deeper.

“Have you been on any covers of magazines?” She needed to either dampen his egotism or find a way to make him confess to a potential break-in and breakup with his family.

Immediately, he scrolled through his cameos to show her pictures of him on the front cover of a prominent magazine. He said, “See? There I am. On the cover.”

She could practically hear his inner dialogue. There I am! Aren’t I amazing? Aren’t I so wonderful? Don’t you want to bow to my feet? Now will you let me stick my tongue down your throat?

Ugh. The answer to all was no. But it did give her insight into Marcus’s psyche. Now she knew how to get to him…and hopefully how to get to the sale.

“What magazine?” she asked. “You look so serious and sophisticated on the cover. It makes me want to take you seriously.”

The tongue-in-cheek response was lost on him. “I posed for the business magazine, the top one for Russia.” He tossed his head like a model. “I told you every girl knows who I am.”

“You’re obviously very important.” Were they going to order dinner soon? She hoped so, since she’d passed her tipsy limit a drink ago, swerving toward intoxication. Not good, especially since she hadn’t exactly won the Markovs over with her personality the night before.

Marcus ordered another round of drinks. Oh, heaven help her. He draped his arm around her, and while his armpit wasn’t as awful as his breath, she didn’t want to be boxed in by him all night. Then Marcus pressed the limit, putting his hand over her shoulder as if they’d shared some great laugh. She glanced across the table. Isaac looked like he might commit murder.

“I’ve had experience myself getting published in media,” Mindy improvised. “The man who owns Soren Security actually started out as a bounty hunter, did you know that?” She kept talking, and Marcus continued to be less interested in himself and more interested in her boss. A win on all sides. She explained that Trey Soren had begun his job as a bounty hunter and leveraged it into a career sending out bodyguards to those who needed protection.

Shockingly, Marcus turned into a businessman. “This sounds like a man I need to meet.”

“You’ll appreciate all he’s gone through to achieve his billionaire success.”

“I agree.” Red slashes crested Isaac’s cheeks and his jaw clenched. “What Mindy suggested is a great idea. You should come see our facility.” To his credit, his smooth voice ran contrary to his barely concealed irritation. “You can see our company first hand. Meet the owners. See how we operate, and how our services can benefit your business on many levels.”

Marcus gave a firm nod. “It is done.”

Oh, my God. Had they actually made the sale? Mindy wanted to dance a jig.

Mr. Markov yelled for the waiter, who arrived with efficient strides. “A round to celebrate our new alliance,” Mr. Markov declared.

Uh-oh. The two sips she’d taken of her third drink had let her know she’d well surpassed her limit on an empty stomach. A shot would wreck her.

When the brimming shot glasses arrived, she stared at hers dubiously. If she didn’t drink a toast to their mutual success, she risked offending them. If she downed the shot, she just might puke or pass out on Marcus. Lovely options, neither one acceptable.

I’m in trouble. The trapped sensation from earlier returned. Her throat tightened. Mostly because she wanted to maintain a good impression, but she wanted to be sober enough to enjoy—and remember—the night in store that Isaac had promised back in the tower.

She recalled his heated words. Do you want me to fuck you or make love to you?

Her toes curled remembering his sexy ultimatum. She craved his touch. Do you want me to fuck you or make love to you? She wanted to completely sober when Isaac made love to her.

But there was Marcus dangling a drink in front of her. So not fair. “Mindy, let’s drink with our new business partners,” Isaac prompted softly.

Shaking her head to clear her former thoughts, she lifted her shot glass and put on her game face. “We’re thrilled to have your business, Mr. Markov. We appreciate the opportunity and look forward to the future benefits of our alliance.”

While Isaac added a sales spin to her toast, Mr. Markov responded positively with a Russian anecdote, and all six glasses clinked over the center of the table. She opened her throat and felt the stinging splash of vodka that created a warm trail to her stomach.

When it didn’t resurface—much to her amazement—she counted herself victorious. Instantly, her nerves uncoiled into a relaxed state. Probably for the first time since the week before she’d boarded a plane from Denver to St. Petersburg, her limbs relaxed and her brain didn’t have a care in the world.