I patted Least Ugly’s arm as he helped me walk out of the restaurant. “I’m sure he meant that in a nice way.”
Least Ugly grunted, his lips twitching. “No. He didn’t.” He glanced down at me, herding my person toward the elevator. “Do you want some more Sprite for your stomach?”
“You saw what I was drinking?”
His lips twitched again. “It was tasted before it was set on the table.”
I blinked. “Huh?”
“All of the food is tested when he’s out in public. If Stepan—the tester—dies or passes out, then we know the food has been poisoned.”
I walked…until I muttered, “I think I need to have a talk with him about the threat of him being killed.”
“Your food was tested, too.”
Yep. Definite talk.
“He seriously pays an employee to test the food?” I paused, realizing the obvious. “Some idiot actually took the job?”
“Yes. Stepan is paid very well for his services. And if he does pass on while on duty, his family will be taken care of. It is a job that is coveted.”
“Maybe I should have a talk with this Stepan, too.”
Least Ugly chortled.
I asked, “What’s your name?”
“My name is Trofim, Ms. Forter.”
“Call me Elizabeth. Please.”
He shook his large head. “Thank you. But, no.”
Okay.Must be a bodyguard thing.
“Do you want that Sprite, Ms. Forter?”
“No. Just the room. I want to get my work done, and then pass out.”
He nodded. “That boat was something else today. I almost got sick it was so horrible.”
“I know, right?”
He glanced down at me. “I just said it was.”
His comprehension wasn’t as good as Daniil’s. “Yes. You did. Sorry.” I stayed silent until I got upstairs to Daniil’s room, having to stop by mine for my laptop first. When I started down Daniil’s hallway to his room, I said, “Good night, Trofim.”
“Good night, Ms. Forter,” he said softly.
That was the last of the bodyguards I saw that evening.
In fact, that was the last of anyone I saw that evening.
I wrote my article, reading through it four times before sending it, making sure it portrayed the correct person—Zoya—in the limelight as the evil-doer of the love triangle. It was tricky making Grigori and hubby still sound manly, and not like idiot boys who had been duped by a pretty woman. But, I made it work. I attached the photo, sent it on to my editor after making a quick call to him, and then stripped down and got under the covers. The bed seesawed for a few minutes, and then blessedly, I passed out.
The next two days flew by in a hurry. Other than being a little tired, I recovered from my boating experience without major mishap, like a visit to the toilet. Although the damn smell of seafood—which I had never liked to begin with—was still a major distraction at any meal. After my embarrassing bitchfest with the Lion Security group, they never ordered it again when I ate with them, and my parents were polite enough to not do so either after I told them they had scarred me for life.
The morning the Zoya article ran, I woke to Daniil, reading—on my laptop—and nodding his head in approval. But his mood had changed quickly, turning completely somber. He pulled me on top of him, holding my hair back from my face as I stared down at him. Then he proceeded to gently and specifically explain his dangerous life and what that meant for someone he was with. And let me tell you, he hadn’t skimped on any of the details—for some reason ignoring what my profession was and giving me all of the dirty, low details of what his life entailed and what people would do to usurp his…empire…for lack of a better word.
