“It’s the flip side of fame,” Nayara said softly.
“But it doesn’t matter what you do,” Ryan added. “Someone is always going to disapprove or not like it for some reason. You can’t pick your course based upon pleasing everyone because it’s not possible. You need to decide what the right path is for you.”
“You can disappear for a week or two,” Deonne said. “The agency could take you back to some time, let you hide out in perfect comfort and safety. When you get back, this will be over and you can go back to being Mariana Jones, private citizen.”
Mariana frowned. “I have a date tonight,” she said slowly.
Brenden swore softly and rolled his eyes. “Because that should dictate what you do.”
Nayara looked at him steadily.
Brenden sighed. “My apologies,” he said roughly, to Mariana.
“I was going to say,” Mariana began again, “that I have a date tonight, with Laszlo Wolffe. If I want to run with this, the date should be as public as possible. Laszlo draws attention wherever he goes.”
“You’re going to use Wolffe to draw attention to yourself?” Ryan asked.
She shook her head. “He’s already a public figure. Just standing close to him will do the trick. But I haven’t decided anything, yet. I need to think and I can’t do it with Brenden glaring at me and the rest of you tapping your fingers.”
Brenden straightened up like he had been slapped.
Nayara was trying not to smile, but Mariana recognized the little quirk in the corner of her mouth. “Very well,” she said. “We’ll let you consider it. But you will need to make a decision fast. There are preparations we need to make if you decide to go ahead with this.”
“Thank you,” Mariana told her. “Deonne, could I speak to you in your office?”
“Of course.”
Everyone else left the room, except for Brenden, who stood at the table watching them. Mariana looked back at him steadily. “Is there something you want to say?”
His black eyes were unreadable. “If you do this, if you step up publically on the side of vampires and vampire rights, Wolffe isn’t the one to have at your side.”
“Are you volunteering?”
He scowled. “Don’t deflect me. I’m making a valid point.”
“And that would be?”
“Wolffe is a lightweight. His reputation is a joke. He’ll weaken your message.”
“Brenden, that’s—” Deonne began, but Mariana held up her hand, halting her.
“It’s alright, Deonne,” she said and looked at Brenden. “I think you’ve underestimated the power of the message and Wolffe, too.”
“Maybe,” Brenden said slowly. “But if she’s doing her job properly, Deonne will warn you about the optics of spending time with a man that has never proven himself except as a fucker of beautiful women.”
Mariana smiled sweetly, even though she felt sick with roiling tension. “Couldn’t the same thing be said about you?”
His expression grew thundery. “I don’t latch onto women for their political power.”
“No, you like their money and their status as permanently unavailable.”
Deonne drew in a breath sharply enough that Mariana could hear it. She gripped her arm. “Stop it, you two. That’s beyond enough.”
“I agree,” Mariana said coldly.
Brenden turned and stalked into his office. The door shut silently and turned dark.
“Holy mother Mary!” Deonne breathed. “I’ve never seen him so snarly before!”
“It’s me,” Mariana said with a sigh. “He doesn’t like me. I’m human and a woman and weak and…and a whole lot of other things he finds offensive.”
“That puts you in quite the pickle,” Deonne said. “No wonder you said yes when Laszlo Wolffe asked you out.”
“Excuse me?” Mariana asked, letting some of the same chill back into her tone.
Deonne gave her a small smile. “Never mind. Let’s go to my office. I have espresso on tap and I think we both need it.”
* * * * *
“No!” Brenden said flatly. “Absolutely not. You’d have to kill me first.”
Nayara’s expression grew chilly. “That could be arranged,” she said softly. “Kieran is right. You’re the best person for this.”
“Babysitting them on their date?” He threw his hands out. “Christ in a sidecar! There’s a whole security division and then there’s Kieran’s pet army down in the dungeon. You can’t find a single other person who can do it?”
“The affair Laszlo Wolffe is taking Mariana to is a black-tie charity affair. You know all those people. You’ve spent time with them and the faces are known to you. You will know instinctively if someone doesn’t fit in. That’s not something a raw recruit will be able to assess. You won’t get distracted by the glitter and the faces, either.”
Brenden realized that Nayara was quite serious. They were going to make him do this. He sat back in the visitor chair in front of Nayara’s big desk and pushed his hand through his hair. “You’re taking these silly letters seriously?” he asked, struggling to keep his voice civilized.
“If you had analyzed them properly yourself,” Nayara said, her voice as smooth as a muted trumpet, “then you would know that. Kieran has convinced me there is a credible threat. Plus, of course, with Mariana speaking on behalf of vampires, she will draw Gabriel’s attention, too. Although I don’t think that has occurred to her, yet.”
“It won’t make any difference if she does figure it out,” Brenden said gruffly, “and she will. She has learned way too much from us.” He gripped his hands together. “If Gabriel takes a run at her, I can’t hold him or his people back by myself.”
“I’ll cover that possibility,” Kieran said shortly. “Just be her personal body-guard. She may need it.”
“You can’t talk her out of this silly stunt?” Brenden asked.
“It’s her choice,” Nayara said flatly, “and I admire her for it. She knows there are risks but she’s doing it anyway, just because she believes it is the right thing to do.”
Brenden couldn’t think of anything to say to counter that. But he didn’t like it. Not at all. He had a lot of complaints about this business, including being relegated to bodyman, having Nayara pissed at him, Mariana’s sudden and inexplicable antipathy toward him, watching her with Wolffe, even Wolffe himself—but all of that was nothing compared to being forced to watch over Mariana and Wolffe on a date.
Chapter Ten
Chronometric Conservation Agency Headquarters, Villa Fontani, Rome, 2265 A.D.
Brenden buried himself in work for the rest of the day and managed to forget about the evening ahead…or at least, not think about it for longer than ten seconds at a time.
Just before sunset, Nayara tapped him on the arm. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”
“Ready?” he asked blankly.
“You’re going to need black tie attire yourself. You need to blend in.”
He had forgotten…or had chosen to not remember. He growled under his breath.
“Noted,” Nayara said with a serene smile. “Go on. Rob’s here, we’re covered.”
Brenden closed down the files on the tabletop with impatient prods and swipes. “Why couldn’t she just keep her mouth shut?” he demanded.
“Because it’s Mariana,” Nayara replied with the same serene tone she had been using all day whenever Mariana and her ball came up.
Rob was working at the other end of the table on something else. Something normal and not related in any way with the whole stupid affair. He looked up at Brenden’s question. “If she had said no, if she’d chosen to duck out and hide until this was all over, what would ye have thought of that? My guess is ye wouldn’t have liked that nearly as much as her standing up for what she believes in.”
Brenden didn’t answer. He couldn’t find a civil answer. He stalked back to his quarters and changed into an evening suit. He had several, for he always seemed to be inv
ited to the big glittery affairs.
Where the rich, permanently unavailable women were to be found.
He realized he was growling as he dressed. His incisors had descended. He made them retract, shaking off his temper. He wouldn’t be an effective guard if he was steaming from the ears and after reviewing the same files that Kieran had already been over, Brenden knew there was a real chance Mariana would need a guard tonight. He’d never let anyone through his guard before and wouldn’t allow it to happen now. Just because he was guarding someone and not fighting on the field of battle shouldn’t make a difference. As a Spartan, it would be dishonorable to fail.
So. He wouldn’t fail.
Having settled it in his mind, Brenden stalked back to the command center, his double tie undone. He hated the things and hated tying them even more, so Nayara could step up and help, as she had been doing all day.
Mariana was already there and waiting and Brenden found his steps slowing as he took in the impact of her appearance.
The dress she was wearing looked like it was made of flowers and vines—the top half of it, anyway. It was the same blue as her eyes and the vines and flowers trailed over her breasts, up over her shoulders, growing thinner as they climbed. The bottom half of the dress was solid blue, dropping to the floor. Behind her, he could see that it swept out in folds, trailing the ground.
More of the blue stuff was wrapped around her waist and Brenden narrowed his eyes…was her waist really that small? Her hips curved out from her waist in a way that made him want to put his hands around her narrow middle, just to see what she might do.
Mariana came toward him, the blue trailing behind her and drawing the material against her thighs.
It was only then he realized that there was no one else in the room. They had all scattered.
“Let me do that for you,” Mariana said.
“What?”
“Your tie. Let me tie it. The double knots are pesky things at the best of times and I have smaller fingers than you.”
His breath held as she reached up to pick up the ends of the tie and he looked down at her, confusion raging through him. Her hair had been swept up onto the top of her head in one of those complicated styles that nevertheless could tumble back down around her shoulders with the removal of a single clip, leaving a man tight with tension and possibilities…..
Brenden drew in a deep breath, trying to dismiss the errant thoughts. He instead reached for memory images of the woman he was dating…and her name failed to leap to the forefront of his mind.
His inhalation had drawn Mariana’s scent to him and it wasn’t something simple and flowery like he might have expected. It was mature, subtle and complex.
Just like the wearer.
Mariana looked up at him as she tugged the tie tight. “There.” Her smile was small and it faded as he stood looking at her silently.
He realized then what was happening to him. It was wanting. Pure, unalloyed lust. His body itched to have her. How long had his instinct been driving him toward this moment? Not that it mattered. She was not his and never would be.
But gods above! He had not felt this powerful a pull toward a woman for a very long time. Months. Centuries, his mind whispered.
Mariana’s hands fell away from him. “I know you don’t want to do this, Brenden—”
“Don’t be stupid. It’s my job,” he said flatly. It came out more sharply than he intended, but without the harsh control he was exerting, his need would have emerged, revealing itself.
Mariana looked at him, her face calm. “I’m not stupid. You keep making that mistake.”
He cleared his throat. “I do,” he agreed hoarsely. “Is Wolffe picking you up? Where are you meeting him?”
“He’s waiting out the front.”
He stepped back. Away from her. “I have to stay inside a six foot radius from you at all times, but don’t let that affect your behavior. Pretend I’m not there, if that helps. After a while you won’t notice me, anyway. But don’t go anywhere I can’t follow.”
“I have to pee occasionally.” She didn’t seem at all embarrassed.
“Let me know when you must and I’ll clear and secure the area, first.”
“You mean, you’re going to go into the washroom, kick out every woman there and then stand guard at the door while I’m in there?”
“That’s exactly what I get to do,” Brenden assured her. “You’re a target now. Get used to it.”
Mariana licked her lips, considering him. She was wearing lipstick that glimmered. And some dark stuff around her eyes. Were they really that large? That limpid? Why hadn’t he noticed before?
“Very well,” she said. “If that’s what it takes. But I won’t drink a drop all night, if it will spare a lot of women a small heart attack when they see a giant Spartan in their private washroom.”
Brenden scowled. “I said you should behave normally.”
She shook her head. “There’s nothing normal about this night. Not at all.” She picked up a small beaded bag from the table next to her. It was the same blue as the dress. Then she turned without a word and swept out the room. She didn’t look back, either.
Brenden let out his breath and hurried to catch up with her. Honor! He reminded himself. She was his job now. Concentrate!
Was her skin really as soft as it looked?
* * * * *
Borghese Gallery, Rome, Italy, 2265 A.D.
The occasion was the launch of a collection at the prestigious and ancient Borghese Gallery on Piazzale del Museo in down town Rome, so it was only a short ride in the limousine, for which Mariana was deeply grateful.
Brenden sat on the narrow front bench and Laszlo sat next to her. She had spent some time that afternoon, in between Cybelia’s fittings and fussing, filling Laszlo in on the threats and the media attention she would generate if she went with him to the gala.
But when he had seen her heading toward the limousine, Laszlo had been on the verge of kissing her on the cheek. Then he spotted Brenden standing just behind her and hesitated.
“Brenden is my bodyguard for the night,” Mariana said with a sigh. “He says to pretend he’s not there.”
“Is that so?” A gleam grew in Laszlo’s eyes. “Very well.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her up against him. “Hello, beautiful,” he murmured and kissed her.
She knew he was kissing her only to aggravate Brenden. She knew it, but it didn’t seem to matter. When his lips touched hers, Mariana’s breath escaped and her body leapt. So did her heart. She had never reacted so strongly to being kissed, before. Excitement raced through her, high and clear and pure. She didn’t want the kiss to end. She didn’t want to think at all. She just wanted to enjoy more of this. Much more….
Laszlo pulled his lips from hers. Not far. Just enough so that he could look at her. There was a light in his eyes. Heat.
Mariana realized her arms were around his neck, that his hand was up high on her back, holding her to him. His fingers were warm. He was stroking her back.
“I want another one of those later.” She was breathless.
“Me, too.” He touched her lips with his once more. Lightly. Then he helped her into the limousine and arranged the long train of her dress so it wouldn’t catch in the door.
Mariana was almost startled when Brenden climbed through the door and settled heavily on the front bench. She had for a moment forgotten he was there. She could feel her cheeks heating. He had watched Laszlo kissing her. If the rumors were true, then with his super-enhanced senses he could tell how powerfully Laszlo’s kiss had affected her.
She thought of her bravado of a few moments ago, when she had challenged him about bathroom visits. Now he had watched her melt in another man’s arms. She lifted her chin, staring at Brenden, daring him to say anything.
Instead, he turned on the bench and watched out the window, scanning for potential threats. He was doing his job.
Laszlo picked up her hand, drawing her atten
tion back to him. “When you said you thought you had a dress that would do, you weren’t exaggerating, were you?”
“The agency has very good resources,” she said. Even his hand around hers was making her nerves fizz and glow. She studied him, trying to understand. Laszlo wasn’t unattractive, but he wasn’t at all the type of man she thought she was attracted to. He was tall and that was most definitely in his favor. But he wasn’t dark-haired, or extremely well-built. He had green eyes, which were light rather than dark.
He’s not a vampire. The betraying thought whispered in her mind and she almost jerked with the impact. Really? She was so enamored with vampires she would turn away a perfectly good man because he was human? Was she that shallow?
But she had been reluctant to accept his first invitation and it had nothing to do with his reputation, which merely made her more curious to learn what had drawn so many women to him in the past. Plus, he had asked her out. It had been hard to refuse, even though she had wanted to. Why? Because he was not vampire?
Because he was not the vampire she wanted?
Feeling almost ill with self-disgust, Mariana battled not to look at the man, the vampire, on the seat opposite her. She was with Laszlo and she had voluntarily made the choice to be with him.
Her body seemed to agree with the decision one hundred percent.
Deliberately, she turned herself to face Laszlo, putting her shoulder toward Brenden. She reached up and touched his face. It was craggy, the jaw sharply defined.
Laszlo smiled at her touch. “Not fair,” he murmured. “I can’t do the same.”
“You can if you want,” she told him.
“If I do, I might not be able to stop, so I won’t. Not now.” He turned his head so that her palm pressed against his lips and kissed it. Even that slight touch made her tremble. She was suddenly impatient for the end of the evening.
Laszlo looked at Brenden. “How real is the threat to Mariana?”
Brenden didn’t look at him. He kept his gaze on the road and their surroundings. “Are you asking if I’m decorative?”
“I suppose.”
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