Marcus takes me to the cloakroom and collects our coats. He waves off both his bodyguard and his driver when they approach him, even going as far as to step aside to have what looks like a short disagreement with the bodyguard.
Finally, the bodyguard shakes his head ruefully, and Marcus waves him off with a smile.
"Sorry about that," he tells me, helping me into my coat and even buttoning the top for me when my fingers fumble over the material. "Yasin is a little too good at his job sometimes."
"How can a bodyguard be too good at his job?" I ask with a smile. "Surely he can't be too good at keeping you alive and away from all the crazy stalkers who might want to corner you or creep through your bedroom window at night."
Marcus laughs, really laughs, with his head thrown back and rich m
