Found

third was for her fantasies, placed in front of her fiance as she sorted. He'd been sneaking peeks at that stack all lunch, the reason both his and her napkins covered his lap.
He was in a serious state. Doubtful he'd be able to leave the table without relief. But she could do more. She unbuttoned that demure jacket he made her wear, slipped it off her shoulders.
"Tatyana!"
"Nikky, what time is it?" she asked sweetly.
He checked the watch he'd been tapping all morning. "Half past twelve."
"Oh, good." She smiled up at him. "Then you can go to hell."
He pulled the garment up. "Put your jacket back on. I can see your nipples," he growled in her ear.
Because she was wearing a camisole and sitting under one of those air vents installed to deal with his grandfather's chain smoking. "You do more than see them on page thirty-one." She deliberately brushed against him. "Not that you're interested in that or anything."
"We're going." Now? His condition was obvious. He pushed her over. "GrandfatherȄ"
"Igroek arrives next week." That stopped Nikky. "While he's here, the two of you will have separate bedrooms."
"No way in hell." A different type of tension filled Nikky. Who was this Igroek person?
"Where we sleep, what we do is none of his business." He pulled her onto his lap. Tatyana didn't resist. Were they being split up?
"You are my number one man. You will not..." A fist pounded on the tabletop. "...embarrass a guest with your behavior."
"And I will not..." Nikky's fist also rattled the glassware. "... put Tatyana in danger. There is a killer after her. She will not..." Another thump. ". . sleep alone."
Grandfather rose to his feet. "Then, you'd better find the killer before next week because she will be sleeping alone."
"Grandfather." Nikky glared at his back. For an older man, he moved quickly.
"No. It is decided." The door slammed behind him, leaving them alone.
"That interfering..." Nikky grumbled. "Find the killer. It isn't that easy."
If they were truly engaged, his grandfather wouldn't mind them staying together, would he? Because they'd be married soon and even for the most devout guest, that would be okay, wouldn't it? It must be because they were only temporary, because she wasn't really going to marry his grandson. "It is that easy, Nikky." She touched his cheek. "We know who he's looking for. If we let him know where I was..." She might die but it'd be over, the waiting, the pain, the loss.
"I won't use you for bait, Brat." He stroked her hair back from her neck. "I promised to protect you."
He promised, not that he wanted to, but that he promised. Their time together was limited.
She wouldn't waste any of it. Tatyana unzipped his pants. "Then make sure you get him before anything happens to me." She flicked the snap on his boxers open, freeing him.
"No." He echoed his grandfather's obstinate tone.
"No?" She stroked him. "He's coming for me." So would Nikky. Soon. He was soft yet hard, tenderness yet strength. "That you can't control. But this way, you can control everything else." His forehead was furrowed, deep in thought. She couldn't have that. She slid down his legs under the table.
"I won't do it." He jerked as she took him in her mouth, his fingers combing through her hair.
"You control everything, Nikky." She looked up at him, watching his handsome face as she licked him. "You decide where..." Lick. "When..." Lick. "How many men there are..." Lick.
"Everything."
Done with talking, she left him with that thought and applied herself to the task in hand.
Boris, the brat's good-looking, single bodyguard, had his arms around her, helping her aim the gun. Nik didn't like it. He didn't like it at all. Then, as he approached and realized what she was wearing, he liked it even less.
She was wearing a black tailored suit, matching the uniform of all his staff, except that under that slim fitting jacket, she wore nothing, the curves of her breasts clearly visible.
The bodyguard, over a foot taller, would be able to see her navel.
She smiled when she saw him approaching, turning toward him, Boris taking the loaded gun out of her hands. She slid off the ear muffs, pulled up her safety glasses. "Did you see that, Nikky?" she yelled too loudly.
He pulled an earplug out of her pointy ear so he could curse her out properly. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"Boris is teaching me how to shoot a gun and he says I'm pretty damn good at it."
"Language, Brat." She cussed more than his men. He raised an eyebrow in question to the bodyguard.
"She is, Boss," Boris confirmed, beaming as though, after one lesson, he was directly responsible for her natural ability. "Her aim is dead on."
Dead was the right word. Nik took the gun from him. "A .22? That won't stop shit." If she was going to be learning to shoot, which she wasn't, she should be practicing with a real gun.
"The higher calibers had too much kick. She needs bracing with the .22."
"Knocked me back on my ass." She rubbed that nicely rounded body part.
"Language, Brat." So, that's what Boris was doing. Some tension eased from Nik. "We'll need to work her up to at least a .32."
"Are we responsible for her training?"
Nik grinned. When the brat started talking about herself in the third person, he knew a fight was brewing. "If she is going to train half naked, we will be."
She frowned down at her outfit. "All your bodyguards wear these suits."
So, she was one of his bodyguards now. "All my bodyguards wear shirts under their suits."
Though, like Boris, some of them wore t-shirts instead of dress shirts. "Casual dress translates to casual pay."
"Boss." Boris straightened.
"It is not casual." She patted the bodyguard's chest. "It is modern, hip, trendy."
"Exactly what I'm looking for in a bodyguard," Nik grumbled, tightening his tie. What did that make him? Old and outdated? "Get me some earplugs, Boris." He'd see how good she was for himself.
"Are