Page 79 of Drawn Together

Did he really need that much security everywhere he went? Who the hell was Marcus Kozel?

I looked back at Sebastian, and Marcus followed the direction of my gaze.

“You don’t need to come, Moore. I have enough security to protect her. Nothing is going to happen to her while she’s with me.”

Sebastian looked like he wanted to bite Marcus’s head off. “Marfil doesn’t go anywhere without me,” he said, leaving no room for argument.

“I said,” Marcus replied, stepping in front of Sebastian and placing a hand on his chest to stop him from taking a step toward Peter’s Mercedes, “that I’ll take care of her tonight.”

Sebastian was about to push Marcus, but I intervened immediately. “Marcus,” I said, taking him by the arm, “I want him to come.”

Marcus smiled without looking at me, his eyes fixed on Sebastian, and took a few seconds to respond. “Whatever you say, princess,” he said, giving in.

Princess. That was a bit much for a first date, but I wasn’t going to say anything about it.

He held open the car door for me, and I watched as Sebastian got into the Mercedes. Since when did anyone take three carloads of bodyguards just to go out on a date?

Marcus got in the car, filling it with the scent of his cologne, and I relaxed into the leather seat.

“I’m sorry about all this, but considering the circumstances…”

“It’s no big deal,” I said as he shifted the car into gear and started out, fast, down the country road that ran past my house—the three security vehicles following closely behind.

“I’ve made reservations at a restaurant with stunning views of the Mississippi,” he said, seeming satisfied with himself. “It has an incredible rooftop, the best steak around, and a spectacular wine list.”

I smiled, admiring the countryside as it zoomed outside the window. Marcus drove fast, very fast, but I didn’t ask him to slow down. The car demanded to be driven that way.

“So, I realized I never asked you—what’s your major in college?” he asked with one arm on the back of my seat and the other on the wheel.

“Economics,” I responded.

“Seriously?” He laughed, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye, and then back at the road.

Why was that so funny to him?

“Yes, I’m finishing up my sophomore year,” I said, studying his profile. He was very handsome, like he’d been plucked straight out of a Christian Dior ad.

“What do you do?” I asked, curious, as I took in the gold Rolex on his left wrist and the ring with a lion’s head on his right hand.

He looked at me for a moment with an amused expression on his face. “I buy and sell companies,” he explained. “I purchasebankrupt businesses for one dollar and take on all their debt.”

“One dollar?” I asked incredulously.

“Yes,” he said simply. “Then I restructure them, make a deal with the banks to settle the debt, and sell to the highest bidder.”

“It sounds risky,” I said, looking out at the sun setting over the trees and the empty, winding road lit up only by the car’s headlights.

“All business is risky,” he replied, shrugging. “Do you like ballet?” he then asked.

I sat up straighter in my seat and shot him a questioning look. Was my tattoo visible? Had my father seen it?

He pointed to the ballet slipper pendant hanging around my neck.

“Oh,” I sighed in relief. “Yeah, I love it.”

“You dance?” he asked.

“Yes, although not professionally,” I said, unavoidably thinking of my mother.