“Barolo Grill,” Marcus said and my suddenly food-dazed gazedrifted to him.“Prosciutto and melon.Lobster salad.Truffle risotto.Andbombolonisfor dessert.With Dom, of course.”
With Dom, of course.
Dom Pérignon and lobster salad in my two-bedroom,not-much-to-write-home-about,uninspired-floorplan-like-gazillions-of-complexes-all-over-the-you-nited-States-of-America,galley kitchen, living-slash-dining-room,only-thing-good-about-it-was-the-master-bath apartment that I’d rented before Istarted to make a mint off stripping.
“Are you loco?”I asked.
His lips curled up.“No, I’m hungry.”He turned hisattention to his men.“That’s good and that’s all.”
They started to move out but stopped when Marcus told themto do it.
His hand slid to the small of my back.“Daisy, this is myman, Brady, and my driver, Ronald.”
In turn, first the blond, then thesunglassedman nodded to me.
“Pleased to meet you,” Brady said.
“Same,” Ronald grunted.
With nothing more, they both took off.
I watched the door close behind them and looked back atMarcus.
“You have a driver?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“So he can drive me where I need to go.”
I felt my eyes get squinty again.
He put pressure on my back and guided me to mynot-much-to-write-home-about round dinette (that wassogoing to gowhen I got my fabulous new pad—there, I’d have a proper, Southern woman’sdining room table, meaning big, gleaming, and covered in fine china, even if Ididn’t have any friends to sit at it) where they’d laid out the opened foodcartons, baker’s box, champagne, and flutes.
“I have a variety of concerns,” he explained as we went.“Time is always in short supply.I can’t use it wisely if I have to concentrateon driving.While Ronald drives, I can do things I couldn’t if I was.”
He stopped us by the table and I asked, “And you have aman?”
“I have several,” he answered.
I gestured to the door with my hand.“So what’s that onefor?”
“Extra eyes.”
“Extra eyes for what?”
He held my gaze steady.“For being certain, should someonethink to do something stupid that I wouldn’t very much like, they won’t do thatbecause they either saw Brady and got smart or Brady saw them and stoppedthem.”
“So with theseconcernsof yours, you’re constantlyin danger,” I guessed.
“No.Not many would be foolish enough to attempt to put mein a dangerous situation.What I am is cautious.”
I nodded.“You sure strike fear in the hearts of thestrippers, sugar.The ones who don’t want to sleep with you, that is.But justsayin’, they mightwannaget laidby you, but you scare them too.”
He grinned at me.“No offense, honey, but I’m not sure Iconsider strippers a threat.”
“None taken, darlin’, butgottaknow.Do you consider anyone a threat?”
