Bedded by Her Bodyguard (Billionaire Bodyguard Series) Page 8

  “Our luggage would be nice, too.” Her tone turned fretful. “My suitcase has the only proof of our company’s abilities to make this sale.”

  “Not necessarily.”

  She did a double take. “Why?”

  “When I owned my Harley-Davidson dealership, sometimes the motorcycle I was selling with all the bells and whistles wasn’t even on the lot. I was selling the idea of it. The fantasy. I built an image in a buyer’s mind of what the motorcycle could be. And who he could be when he rode that dream bike. Make a buyer feel special and one-of-a-kind and he’ll buy the motorcycle I just sold to his ego, not his wallet.”

  Tilting her head, she seemed to dissect and consider his words. “That’s kind of brilliant.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Kind of?”

  “Fine, it’s totally brilliant. It just never thought about sales in that light.”

  “Because you’re busy polishing the company’s image, which is also an important aspect of sales, but it’s different than peddling a physical commodity. Your job is all about making people feel good about associating with Soren Security. My job is to sell the concept of security, then the device that will give it to them, so they’ll sign on the dotted line.”

  She gave a thoughtful nod. “Technically, I know all that. I have a bachelor’s degree in business marketing. But it’s different seeing the principles of business textbooks in action, applied to a specific situation. You make those ideals come alive.”

  He shrugged. “I love what I do.”

  “It shows.”

  The respect and admiration in her gaze made his heart gallop in a ragged rhythm. He wasn’t used to this—caring so damn much about what one person thought of him—but he did. Her opinion meant everything.

  With that consideration in mind, when they finally beat traffic and arrived at the hotel, he slid his arm around her waist and slipped into an empty conference room on the main floor. He needed to teach her a few moves to use with the knife he bought her. He’d rather show her a different set of moves horizontally, but this wasn’t the time to get all hot and bothered with her.

  Confusion stamped on her face, she blinked up at him. “What are we doing here? I thought we had no time—”

  “There’s always time to make you feel safe.”

  “What do you mean…? Oh.” Her eyes rounded. “The knife.”

  “Exactly.” He shed his coat, tossing it onto the back of a conference chair, and she did the same with hers.

  Retrieving the knife and its sheath from his coat, he handed it to her. She held it away from her and peered at it warily.

  “That’s your first problem.”

  “What?”

  “A weapon, especially a knife, is an extension of your body, of your physical being. It isn’t something to fear but an aspect to master.”

  She drew it a little closer. “It feels foreign. Kind of brutal.”

  “It should. May I?”

  When she placed it in his outstretched palm, he unsheathed the blade and, stepping to the side, made a few arcs, turns and jabs like a choreographed scene from his favorite Bruce Lee film.

  She paled. “Oh, my.”

  “Don’t be intimidated. I’ve had some practice.” Okay, a little more than some, but he didn’t want the learning curve to seem too daunting.

  With a tight swallow she said, “You could be one of the bodyguards we hire out to protect people.

  He laughed. “Trust me, I’m better at sales than I am with knives.”

  “I don’t know about that.” She seemed to regard him in a new light. “You could slice someone to ribbons before they ever saw it coming.”

  He nodded. “That’s the point. The element of surprise is the most powerful weapon. Better than muscles or fists or bullets. You want to know enough to be dangerous, to catch someone off guard.” He gazed at her steadily. “I want you to act out with me what those men did to you in your hotel room. Show me how they grabbed you.”

  A cloud of fear shadowed her face. “Isaac, I don’t feel comfortable—”

  “I’ll make it easy.” He knelt on the floor holding the knife. “You’re the aggressor. Show me how they held you.”

  The reenactment was as unappealing for him as it was for her, but still necessary. He watched her overcome her fears, stepping into the role he’d assigned her. “The big guy held me from behind, like this.”

  With him kneeling, the position helped her petite body achieve a similar dynamic to some hulking brute. She wrapped her arm around his neck in a chokehold and clamped her other hand over his mouth.

  While he hated that she’d gone through this herself, this provided an excellent teaching ground. He jerked his head to the side toward her elbow. “Turning your head takes the pressure off your windpipe. You need to get as much oxygen to your brain as possible to keep your mind sharp.”

  Slowly he moved his elbow backward toward her midriff, without any forceful contact. “I just gave myself breathing room, at the same time knocking the wind from your chest.” Then he spun on his knees and aimed the sheathed knife at her solar plexus, his palm against the butt of the hilt, demonstrating how to shove the knife in and up. “Using those three moves, you could’ve sent your attacker to the hospital. Possibly to the morgue.”

  She turned a little green. “I can’t even stand the thought of hurting someone. Let alone holding his life in my hands.”

  “You lived through the ordeal, thank God, but that luck may not happen twice.” He lifted a shoulder, not to be cavalier but to prove a point. “When the stakes are life and death, I assume you want to end up on the living end of that equation.”

  She nodded.

  “Let’s try it again,” he suggested. “You practice the moves I showed you against me.”

  “Isaac…”

  “Life and death, sweetheart. You can do this.”

  With a sigh, she accepted the sheathed knife from him. After twenty minutes of continuous practice, she seemed comfortable with the knife in her hand and how to use it if necessary. “Nice work. I wouldn’t want to meet you in a dark alley.” He hoped she heard the sincerity in his tone. “This belongs to you now,” he said, handing her the knife.

  “Really?” She clutched it against her stomach like a lifeline. “Are you sure?”

  “I didn’t buy it for me. It was meant to be yours.” He cupped her chin in his palm. “Mindy, I would cross heaven and earth and hell to protect you. But if I can’t be there, and you need to defend yourself, I want you to have the confidence to be a fighter, not a victim.”

  To his surprise, tears welled in her eyes. She sprang onto tiptoe and kissed him. While he enjoyed her random display of affection, he took her shoulders in his hands. “What was that for?”

  Her eyes glowed with adoration. “Don’t you know?”

  He kissed her softly and drew back. “I know we have to leave soon if we want to make it to the dinner meeting on time. I need to grab my suit from the front desk and change upstairs. I’ll meet you back down here in ten minutes.”

  Disappointment flashed in her eyes, but she nodded. “You’re probably right.”

  His disappointment felt as sharp as hers. He’d much rather ditch dinner and feast on her all night. Instead, he returned downstairs within ten minutes as promised and they were on their way to meet the Markovs for the second meeting, the deal-clincher.

  Tonight he’d sit through another long evening of watching her share her light and laughter with three other men. When all he wanted to do was keep her to himself. He’d never been the jealous type, but when it came to Mindy, an unfamiliar edginess crept up his back and made him feel things he’d never felt, covet what he didn’t own. He’d have to force a smile while a guy like Marcus poured his attention all over her.

  Now that he’d kissed her and tasted her and knew that she wanted him, tonight would be more brutal than last night. And he just had to sit there and take it.

  A scowl dragged down the corners of his mouth. He was n
ot looking forward to this. Even if he did nail down the sale, it would come at the cost of another man’s touch on his girl. A devil’s bargain he’d never had to make before.

  The upper hand he’d grown accustomed to holding was slipping through his fingers. For the most part, that was a good thing, except when it compromised his judgment and laser focus on his career.

  Then again, he’d always believed that work and relationships required balance. That balance would be tested tonight.

  Chapter 7

  Mindy wished she and Isaac had arrived first so they could sit next to each other like last night. Instead, the Markovs awaited them in the same semicircular booth. The elder Markov sat in the central position of power that Isaac had occupied last night. Isaac was sandwiched between the older and middle sons, Michael and Matthias, and he looked none too happy about the arrangement. She sat between Mr. Markov and her devoted admirer, Marcus. Too many M’s to keep track of, she thought wearily.

  She wondered if splitting up her and Isaac was intentional. Her suspicion was confirmed when Marcus’s thigh wedged against hers and she found no retreat from his physical presence or his one-sided boastful conversation. The cologne he wore, an overpowering scent of patchouli-laced musk, made her eyes water and erased her appetite. It didn’t help that his breath smelled like leftover garlic pasta and oysters. She fought not to gag.

  With a plea in her eyes, she glanced at Isaac, who threw Marcus a dark look. But, equally trapped, Isaac couldn’t do much to help her uncomfortable situation without offending someone. Or everyone.

  Resigned to her fate for the evening, she settled her stiff shoulders against the cushion. That apparently signaled Marcus to rest his arm across the top of the booth behind her. Between her small stature and his tall lanky one leaning into her, she feared she’d have to face his armpit all night, although that smelled better than his breath.

  An ache started to form in her left temple, the side facing Marcus. She downed her first two drinks to achieve a little mental fuzziness. It made Marcus a bit more tolerable. He regaled her with stories of his discotheque extravaganza the night before, which she assumed was his version of club hopping.

  “The women at these places, they know me when I come through the door. They know I have money.” He preened then flattened his hand on the table in front of her so his body formed a box around her. The thick gold bracelet matched the rope-braid around his neck, but no precious gems, as Isaac had warned her to notice.

  Obviously, Marcus wasn’t their perpetrator. Also, despite his high opinion of himself, Marcus had nothing on Isaac’s suave, confident charm. From across the table, Isaac seemed to be beguiling the Markovs with his confident charm. That meant she needed to work on her employers’ excellent repute.

  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.

  She turned to Marcus. “I’m so glad we had a chance to talk tonight.”

  “As am I.” His eyes turned heavy-lidded, not from intoxication but desire.

  Then she hiccupped. So embarrassing. The men chuckled as she slapped a hand over her mouth, but her chest-rattling gasps continued.

  “A few slaps on the back will help.” Marcus cuffed her on the back like she’d choked on
something. Not helpful.

  The middle brother offered, “Have another shot. That’ll cure you.”

  When her watery eyes bugged out, Mr. Markov let out a chortle. “No, no. The girl won’t last through another vodka. Lemon sprinkled with sugar will do it.”

  The each tossed out options, the brothers arguing over which home remedy would cure her. From bitters in club soda to drinking a glass of water upside down. How was it even possible, she mused, to consume a beverage upside down? The logistics made her head spin.

  Finally Isaac reached across the table, depositing his glass of water in front of her. “Hold your nose, exhale completely, take a deep breath in, and drink the water until your lungs are about to explode.”

  Nodding, she didn’t care if she looked ridiculous. She pinched her nose, exhaled, inhaled, and downed the glass of water. She kept drinking even though her pulse pounded in her ears and her lungs screamed for air. She emptied the glass, dropped it to the table, unplugged her nose and gasped for breath. She breathed heavily for a few seconds, then her pulse settled and her hiccups were gone. “Hey, it worked!”

  The Markovs marveled and then proceeded to discuss why such a simple method offered immediate results. Was it distraction? Concentration on a procedure instead of hiccups? Something to do with the carbon monoxide ratio to oxygen in her lungs?

  She didn’t care as long as hiccups were gone. Thank you, she mouthed to Isaac, who sent her a wink. She turned to Marcus. “Please excuse me while I use the ladies room.”

  At first, Marcus gave her a blank expression but soon comprehended. How should she know what they called the ladies room in Russian?

  Once again, or for the hundredth time, she was supremely grateful for Isaac’s presence here with her. Without him she would’ve lost her way, so many times on so many levels.

  As the director of sales, the expectations and overseeing of the entire team rested on his shoulders. She didn’t have half of his work responsibilities, easily expendable for a week off in Russia to pitch the company line to a foreign market. Yet, on this trip, he’d proven invaluable not only to her, but to Soren Security as a whole. She really wanted to tell her boss, Cade, about Isaac’s impressive skill set. Find a way to express how invaluable Isaac had been on this journey.