Page 74 of Seduction (Wicked Vows)

My father stares when Markov and I exit the vehicle, looking me over with scrutiny. “Vera,” he says, kissing my cheek. “Did your mother pick that dress? Markov, I’d like you to join us. There’s no need for you to keep your distance.”

I stiffen, but Markov moves right in with stride, reaching for my father’s hand and shaking it firmly. “I told her she looks beautiful,” he says with a smile. “Did you hear about what she did this week? Their amazing discovery will be posted in every medical journal from here to America. Let’s go in, and Vera can tell you all about it.”

I give him a small smile in return.

Though my father’s far from interested in me discussing what I did this week, he’s impressed that the work will garner attention from powerful people.

“Excellent,” he says as he turns his back to me. “Let’s get a drink. Oh, and I have a surprise for you, Markov.”

Markov and I share a look. There can’t be any good that comes from starting a conversation like that. When we reach the bar, he lifts a large bottle of Beluga Gold Line, a premium vodka. Even implacable Markov looks impressed. “Excellent,” he says approvingly. “Thank you.”

We make small talk, and Markov helps me navigate it all with perfect ease. He remains somewhat aloof, maintaining his position as a bodyguard while interjecting praise when my father makes rude or dismissive comments. My father probably never imagined that the guard he hired would protect me from him.

“Excuse me,” I say at one point, ready for a break from him. “I need to use the ladies’ room.”

“Of course.” My father points in the general direction of where to go. Markov steps beside me. “I’ll accompany her. Anything I can get you on my return, sir?”

“Nothing, thank you, Markov.”

“My God,” I whisper to Markov as we walk toward the restrooms. “He’s insufferable. How can you handle it?”

He shrugs. “I pretend people like him are overgrown children in need of a nap.” When I laugh, he smiles back. “It really helps.”

I snort. “I bet.”

The darkened hallway is vacant when I return. Markov stands in the shadows. It’s risky, the two of us being alone. Close like this. He leans in and whispers in my ear, “Do you still feel my stripes, Vera?”

“Mmmm,” I whisper in his. “Do you still feel my panties in your pocket?”

Markov stifles a groan and squeezes my ass.

“Don’t!” I hiss. “Please.”

“Fair enough. But when we get back to our room, you’re mine, Vera.”

“Can we go now?”

“Almost.”

My father isn’t where we left him.

“That’s strange. Where did he go?” I ask Markov. My heart begins to race. If he was outside that restroom and I didn’t see him. . . if he followed us. . . .

“There,” Markov says. “Over by the exit.”

“Markov! Vera.”

“Father, we’re going to head back now. I’m just so tired.”

“You do have to stay one more minute,” he says. “Do you remember our conversation last night?”

“Mmm. I do.”

“I’ve thought about what you said, and I—I’d like you to come to my room and have a drink.”

Markov goes stiff beside my father. I suddenly feel the need to run, and I’m not sure why.

“Maybe another time,” I tell my father, shaking my head.

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