“Here’s the lady’s meal,” she said quickly, holding a tray with one hand and offering me a tasting spoon with the other.
Katya had ordered mussels in a butter sauce with angel hair pasta. It smelled and tasted strongly of garlic and I almost chuckled as I swallowed. She wasn’t planning on kissing anyone today, that was for damn sure.
The asshole she was with, on the other hand, had ordered fresh oysters. A goddamn aphrodisiac.
It made my urge to punch him flare back to life.
Taking the tray from the waitress, I nodded. “I’ll take it over to her.”
The other server followed me as I threaded my way between patrons towards the somewhat private section of the restaurant. Katya’s eyes met mine as I stepped up on the raised platform and approached the table. Maybe I was fooling myself, but I could swear I saw a glimmer of joy at my arrival. Joy, or maybe just relief that I was there to rescue her yet again, as I’d done last night. And with the loser in her bed the other morning.
Fuck, without meaning to, I’d become Kat’s knight in not-so shining armor.
Double fuck.
Maybe I had meant to...
The waitress behind me nearly tripped as she took the single step up, but she recovered herself before placing the food in front of Katya’s date. I took my time though, relishing Katya’s eyes on me.
“Miss Vasiliev, the food has been tested.” I moved behind her and slightly to the side, deliberately positioning too close so that my arm would graze her breast as I set down the plate. Her nipples hardened instantly, pressing against the sleek halter top fabric.
My heart beat out of rhythm as I stood back up. She turned in her chair to look up at me and I wasn’t crazy.
There was heat there.
Need. Lust.
For something…
But again, the signals I was getting could simply be her desire for rescue from the sleazebag now slurping back oysters across the tablecloth. Katya, for her part, seemed to have zero interest in the food she’d ordered.
“Thank you, Markov. You always protect me,” she spoke slowly, her eyes shadowed by her inner thoughts.
I didn’t want her to use my last name so formally. I wanted to hear Nikolai spill from her lips. Not in jest, not as part of a torture, but because her saying my name was like a fucking prayer.
I crossed my arms and stood behind her instead of walking back towards the kitchen, directing my gaze just above the suitor’s head. After a few moments, he shimmied against his seat, obviously uncomfortable with my presence.
“Does he have to be here?” he asked Katya, licking his Oyster-slick lips.
My mouth opened to answer for her, because I didn’t want her using this as an opportunity to get rid of me.
But she spoke faster. “Yes. Markov needs to be close. As you know, the family has been under siege. We do not yet know the extent of the betrayal. My father has insisted that I am in close proximity with my main guard at all times.”
The man looked past Katya, toward a back wall near the rear exit. “What about those guys. They’re right there. Surely we don’t need him--”
Again, my hands fisted and my lips parted to respond sternly.
“Markov stays with me.” Katya stood abruptly. “Excuse me. I need to freshen up for a moment.”
She walked away, without a backwards glance at the stunned man, headed towards the restrooms. I followed her.
Because wherever she went, I was going.
Chapter Fourteen
Katya
I walked quickly, desperate to be away from Andrei Sharapov, the slimeball son of one of my father’s friends. He was obnoxious and arrogant and not in a sexy way, but in a self-assured, already-thinks-he-owns-me way.
