Rachel would be the death of me. If not literal death, then the death of my patience and sanity. Of that, I was certain, and we'd only been working together for two weeks. I'd never had a client who infuriated me as much as she did.
Sure, she was beautiful (not a good thing when you were in my position) and charming (to everyone except me), but she was also a royal pain in my ass. When I said "right," she went left; when I said "leave," she stayed. She insisted on spontaneously attending crowded events before I could do the advance work, and she treated my security concerns like they were an afterthought instead of an emergency.
Rachel said that was the way things had worked with Mark Stevens, and she'd been fine. I said I wasn't Mark Stevens, so I didn't give a damn what she did or didn't do when she was with him. I ran the show now. She didn't take that well, but I didn't give a shit. I wasn't here to win Mr. Congeniality. I was here to keep her alive.
Tonight, "here" meant the most crowded bar in Linoi Half of Selimor had turned out for The Crypt's Friday night half-off specials, and I was sure the bar was over max capacity. Loud music, loud people. My least favorite kind of place and, apparently, Rachel's most favorite, considering how vehement she'd been about coming here.
"So." Her redheaded friend Chloe eyed me over the rim of her glass. "You were a Navy SEAL, huh?"
"Yes." I wasn't fooled by her flirty tone or party girl demeanor. I'd run in-depth background checks on all of Rachel's friends the moment I took the job, and I knew for a fact Chloe Parker was more dangerous than she appeared. But she didn't pose a threat to Rachel, so I didn't mention what she did in Ohio. It wasn't my story to tell.
"I love military men," she purred.
"Ex-military, Chloe." Rachel didn't look at me as she finished her drink. "Besides, he's too old for you."
That was one of the few things I agreed with her on. I was only thirty-one, so I wasn't ancient by any means, but I'd done and witnessed enough shit in my life to feel ancient, especially compared to fresh-faced college students who hadn't even had their first real job yet. I'd never been fresh-faced, not even when I was a kid. I grew up in dirt and grit.
Meanwhile, Rachel sat across from me, looking like the fairytale princess she was. Big blue eyes and lush pink lips set in a heart-shaped face, perfect alabaster skin, golden hair falling in loose waves down her back. Her black top bared her smooth shoulders, and tiny diamonds glittered on her ears. Young, rich, and regal. The opposite of me in every way.
"Negative. I love older men." Chloe upped the wattage of her smile as she gave me another once-over. "And you're hot."
I didn't smile back. I wasn't dumb enough to get involved with a client's friend. I already had my hands full with Rachel. Figuratively speaking.
"Leave the man alone." Madison laughed. Fashion design and communications major. Daughter of an environmental lawyer and the chief of staff to a cabinet secretary. Social media star. My brain ticked off all the things I knew about her as she snapped a photo of her cocktail before taking a sip. "Find someone your own age."
"Guys my age are boring. I'd know. I dated a bunch of them." Chloe nudged Emily, the last member of Rachel's close friend group. Aside from Chloe's inappropriate come-ons, they were a decent bunch. Certainly better than the friends of the Hollywood starlet I'd guarded for three excruciating months, during which I saw more "accidental" genital flashings than I'd thought I would ever see in my life.
"Speaking of older men, where's your boo?"
Emily blushed. "He can't make it. He has a conference call with some business partners in Korea."
"Oh, he'll make it," Chloe drawled. "You in a bar, surrounded by drunken, horny college guys? I'm surprised he hasn't—ah. Speak of the devil. There he is."
I followed her gaze to where a tall, dark-haired man cut a path through the crowd of said drunken, horny college guys. Green eyes, tailored designer clothing, and an icy expression that made the frozen tundra of Greenland look like tropical islands.
Alexander Volkov. I knew the name and reputation, even if I didn't know him personally. He was a legend in certain circles. The de facto CEO of the country's largest real estate development company, Alexander had enough connections and blackmail material to bring down half of Congress and the Fortune 500. I didn't trust him, but he was dating one of Rachel's best friends, which meant his presence was unavoidable.
Emily's face lit up when she saw him. "Alexander! I thought you had a business call."
"The call wrapped up early, so I thought I'd swing by." He brushed his lips over hers. "I love when I'm right, which is almost always."
Chloe shot Alexander a sly glance. "Alexander Grant in a college bar? Never thought I'd see the day."
He ignored her.
The music changed from low-key R&B to a remix of the latest radio hit, and the bar went wild. Chloe and Madison scrambled out of their seats to hit the dance floor, followed by Rachel, but Emily stayed put.
"You guys go. I'll stay here." She yawned. "I'm kinda tired."
Chloe looked horrified. "It's only eleven!" She turned to me. "Daniel, dance with us. You have to make up for this…blasphemy."