Billionaire Bodyguard 1 : Billionaire Bodyguard(14)

"Allison," he interrupted, "dinner is being served. Join me?"

"No, thanks." She glared at him. "I've lost my appetite."

He slid his arm around her waist and guided her away. "There's an empty seat beside mine with your name on it."

She wriggled out of his grasp. "I told you, I'm not hungry."

"Humor me."

"Isn't that what I've been doing?"

As they neared the table, he blocked her retreat, and she had little choice but to move with his strides. He planted her drink at the place setting beside his guest-of-honor position. Then he held the chair out for her. She should get out while she could. But he'd driven, and finding a cab in a snowstorm wasn't likely. This was the last time she let a man talk her into something when she knew better. She dropped into the seat and sent him a withering look. "You threw me under the bus tonight, Logan."




 



He peered at her intently. "Is that what you think?" Guests swarmed around the table, taking their places. "We'll talk later."

How convenient , she stewed. She gripped the sides of her chair like it was the only stable thing in the room. Anger boiled under the surface of her outward calm.

When Vivi and Rick Dunn sat across the table from her, the night went from intolerable to abysmal. She concentrated on the centerpiece, a Birch-bark candelabra casting a soft glow that should've soothed her. Conversations rippled to the left, to the right. Her head started to pound.

The table went through half a dozen toasts to Logan and Stone Security as salads and warm rolls made the rounds. She winced as a well-meaning colleague tried chatting her up. She'd rather face a rabid dog than endure small talk. He got the picture after a few minutes.

As adoring fans showered him with compliments, Logan redirected praise away from himself and toward his various employees. In the main dining area beyond their private room, a piano and violin played Mozart concertos.

Of the three courses presented, Allison managed to hold down four bites of salad, three tips of brown-butter asparagus, and two forkfuls of steamed lobster. Vivi never stopped talking. Allison's head pounded worse. She wanted to tell the woman to chew her food before speaking. And pause for breath. But she'd never get a word in edgewise. Over the next painful hour, Allison endured Rick's stinging glares. Indigestion and frustration made it hard to breathe.

Unable to force-feed herself, she wiped her mouth with the cloth napkin on her lap and dropped it onto her plate. She scooted her chair back, anxious to excuse herself from purgatory.

As if on cue, Vivi launched an interrogation. "Allison, where did you say you were from originally?"

Allison replied coolly, "I didn't."

"I'll bet you grew up in California. Blonde hair, beach body, starlet looks. I'm from Venice Beach."

"How nice for you."

"Where did you grow up?"

Allison had imagined a thousand different ways to avoid this discussion. Unfortunately, put on the spot, she had no clever reply and half the table interested in the answer. She opted for the truth. "I was born just outside Paris. Since I can remember, my parents toured with the European Opera. I traveled with them."

Vivi gasped with joy. "How fabulous!" She dropped her fork and leaned forward. "Where did you go? What was it like? Oh, I've always dreamed of visiting Europe." Her elbow slammed Rick in the ribs, and he grunted. "Tell me more!"

This was the last conversation she wanted to have with strangers, definitely not with Logan listening, learning the sad lonely life she'd lived. "It was … interesting." 

The evasive answer didn't satisfy Vivi. "Paint the picture for me. I need details!"

Staring at a distant point on the wall, she dredged up the past. "We spent most of our time in France, Austria, Germany and Italy. We also toured the Sydney Opera House, and my parents performed in Moscow and Japan. Always traveling." Her teeth gnawed at her lower lip. "I really never had a home, a place to grow up."

Gentle concern shone in Logan's eyes. "Traveling like that is a dream for a lot of people. But as a kid, that must have been hard."

"It was all I knew." She wasn't looking for sympathy. "My parents lived an adventurous life, but part of me always wanted one place to call home."

Vivi's blue eyes glazed over, missing the shadowed undertones of Allison's private torment. "How fabulous! So, what brought you to America?"

More discussions around the table ceased. She gained a larger audience. She dug her nails into her leather chair. "I met a soldier. An American. His description of this country was what I'd always wanted. The land where dreams come true." She swallowed hard. "I believed him."