Chayton (6 page)

Chayton let Kate talk as long as she needed to. He didn't interrupt, didn't express too much emotion during the telling. He took note of her fidgeting, wringing hands, the shudder in her shoulders, the nervous tension around her mouth and knew without a doubt that
this
was the truth. Finally, they were at the crux of her problem. His reaction to her confessions would set the tone for what happened from here on out, so he considered his reply with all due caution.

“First, let me tell you that as long as you're with me, as long as you're here, I'll do everything in my power to keep them away. You're safe here. You're safe around my acquaintances. We're all cut from the same general cloth, and they won't like what's happening to you any more than I do. Will you trust me? Will you let me help you?”

Kate searched his eyes. Her chin trembled before she lifted it. “Yes. That's why I'm here. I admit—I didn't plan on telling you all that, but I realize that knowledge is power, and I really don't want to fall into his hands. I just need to hire a lawyer and get a restraining order or something.”

“If he's of a nefarious enough nature to slip you something in your drink, he's probably nefarious enough to circumvent court orders, too. At least until he's got a ring on your finger.”

Kate lifted her hands, palms facing upward. A helpless gesture. “What else can I do?”

Chayton smiled. “Take the option completely away from him. Marry me instead.”

Kate stared at Chayton as if he'd grown a second head.
Marry me instead.
Had he lost his mind? Leaning against the counter, as casual as you please, he didn't look perturbed or upset or nervous whatsoever about his offer.

“...Chayton, do you realize what you just said?”

He laughed. “Of course.”

“But...I don't...--”

“Think about it. As long as you're unmarried, he'll try to get at you. Some way, some how. Take the option away from him, crush all his hopes. He'll stop bothering you, stop hounding you, stop trying to abduct you.”

There was a glimmer of truth in what Chayton said. But marriage? That was such an extreme 'fix'. “He won't believe it's true.”

“Does he attend any of the balls and galas that the other elite usually get invited to?”

“Some of the smaller parties and balls. He's been trying to claw his way into the upper echelon for a long time.” Kate still couldn't wrap her mind around the idea of marrying Chayton to throw Anton off her tail. Of course she understood without being told that an annulment would be forthcoming as soon as Anton moved on. She didn't think it would take Anton long to find another target if he thought she was officially unavailable.

“I can fix that. I know the right people and they'll send him an invitation. We'll go as a couple to a few of these functions, 'prove' that we're married. When he sees everyone congratulating us and treating us as a pair, that should convince him. I'm betting it'll infuriate him, too, but we can deal with that.”

The laid back way Chayton delivered his ideas soothed some of Kate's anxiety. “And what if he makes
you
his next target? What if he tries to...what if he tries to kill you?”

“I'm not that easy to kill. Believe in that.”

Kate watched his expression shift from neutral and casual to something more honed and calculating. This was a man used to dealing with the harsher side of life. He'd mentioned a trafficking ring, indicating he was used to risky ventures. Why a member of the elite would jeopardize their life messing with dangerous situations was beyond her.

“I'd feel awful if something happened to you. But if you think you can avoid any nasty repercussions, then...I...” Was she going to go through with it? Take the unbelievable step of marrying what amounted to a stranger? She knew nothing of his lifestyle, where he called home, or how they would go about portraying themselves as a married couple. She did think that it would deliver a crushing blow to Anton, however, and the payback, though bittersweet, would be welcome.

“There's no rush. Take your time and think it over. I'll get you something to eat and arrange to have this floor shut down long enough for you to retrieve your things from your suite. If you need more clothes, or new clothes, I can have that done, too. Whatever you need.” Chayton straightened away from the counter.

“I guess I just have questions more than anything. Like...where would we do it? Does this mean we have to live together? Where would that be? How soon?” Kate couldn't stop the questions once they started. “How will we get the word out?”

He shot her an amused smile on his way to the phone. “We can discuss it. Where would you
like
to do it? I can have an official brought in anywhere. Or we can play out a small wedding so there are pictures. I've got land at many of my residences, a few have gardens. I've also got access to my acquaintance's homes and properties. Castles, islands, you name it. As far as living together, I think that makes it more believable. If he suspects you did this on purpose, he'll be looking for loopholes—which won't make any difference once it's official. We can do it quick and dirty—tonight if we want to—in front of an official with the required witness. I'll have my friends spread the word and we'll go to the first function we can find that we know he'll attend.”

Kate smoothed her hands over the apron. She'd be glad to have her own things, even if she fretted that Anton's men would somehow find out where she was, and who she was with before the marriage became official. She couldn't make up her mind about the semantics of marrying Chayton, especially given so many choices. Today, tomorrow, next week. The sooner the better, she thought, though she didn't want to rush to the point she made the wrong decisions.

“All right. I think we should do it. We can figure out the basics today and implement everything as we go.” She glanced through the suite, realizing that she'd just done two things: secured lodging, food and security for the night, and confined herself to a private suite with a stranger she meant to marry in the near future. There was only one bed, although it was enormous. She would sleep in one of the chairs or on the floor if she had to.

“We've got a working plan. Let's get you something to eat and I'll take care of clearing the floor to get your things. Is that a good place to start?” he asked, phone in hand.

Kate met his eyes across the room. “It's perfect.”

. . .

After a light lunch, Kate accompanied Chayton along the hallway toward her suite. She glanced forward and back, half expecting to see the hulking shape of Anton's men lurch out of a room or some other niche.

“The hotel staff closed down this floor temporarily. No one can come or go for the next twenty minutes. We'll have to hurry, because after that, they'll reopen the elevator and we'll be at the mercy of fate,” Chayton said. Walking beside her with his graceful, stalking gait, he kept an eye out regardless of his reassurances.

“I know. I guess I've been so paranoid, so used to looking over my shoulder lately, that I can't stop.” She presented the key card the management delivered with their lunch, and handed it to Chayton. It was her suite, but she wanted him to go in first.

“That'll probably last a while.” Taking the card with long, elegant fingers, he slid it against the reader and opened the door. He held it for her while he scanned the interior. “It's a mess.”

Thankful for the warning, she stepped in behind him, letting the door fall closed in her wake. Kate gasped when she saw the state of the suite. The bed had been dismantled, the sheets yanked free, the coverlet strewn across the floor. Drawers to the dressers and nightstands sat on the floor at angles, pulled out and left where they lay. The pink suitcase with a custom floral print wasn't just open and ransacked, but shredded from the inside out. Everything she'd brought with her was either damaged, missing or scattered. She went straight to the suitcase, crouching next to the remains while her fingers fished through the ripped interior compartment where she'd stashed her passport, identification and other things.

Everything, as she'd suspected, was gone.

“That bastard.” Leaving the wrecked suitcase on the floor, she went through her clothes, discarding the ones that were cut up or torn. “What should we do with the mess?”

“Leave it. I've arranged for them to clean up. Just take what's in good shape that you need.” Chayton prowled out from the master bath and went to stand at the open door as a lookout.

“They didn't leave much intact.” Kate draped jeans, a pair of slacks and two shirts over her arm. One bra remained, though all her underwear had been grossly dismantled. Kate imagined there was a message in the act, one she didn't dare contemplate too deeply.

“Don't worry about it. We'll get you whatever you need. Almost done?” he asked, departing the doorway after a glance up and down the hallway. He stepped over to help her to her feet, one hand sturdy at her elbow.

“I need to get my things from the bathroom--”

“Don't go in there,” Chayton said with an uncharacteristic scowl.

“Why not?” Kate knew as soon as the words were out. Easing her arm from his gentle grip, she stepped around Chayton and walked under the archway leading into the expansive master bath. All her make up was on the counter, in the sink, or on the floor. Red colored lipstick marred the mirror with a message:
It's useless to run.

More lipstick discolored the granite countertops, like veins of blood, trailing down into the sink. There was something eerie and disheartening about the whole thing.

“They made sure you didn't have anything to take with you,” Chayton said near her shoulder.

Kate shuddered at the left over violence, then turned toward Chayton. “To make it harder for me to run. Yes.”

He glanced down into her eyes. “Ready to go?”

Kate inclined her head. She was more than ready. “At least I've got a few salvageable things.”

“Better than nothing. Though you could have worn one of my shirts if push came to shove. Start early on the whole convincingly married bit.” The corner of his mouth tipped into a tight smile, as if he wished to insert something lighter into all the darkness.

The mental image of her wearing one of his shirts hit Kate with the force of a mini-tsunami. Having a shirt that smelled like him, that had been so snug against his skin, was appealing.
That
thought disconcerted and startled her, and she reined in her wayward thoughts. She said, “It would be convincing, all right.”

And distracting.

At the door, she glanced back to the suite, then stepped out with Chayton on her heels. It was a short trek to his room, and she gladly disappeared into the safe confines once he'd used the key card. In that moment, Kate convinced herself coming back to ask Chayton for help was the right choice.

“You can put your clothes in the closet or a drawer,” Chayton said. He threw the lock and, after taking possession of two pairs of surviving shoes, walked them into the closet where he lined them neatly up on a shelf.

Kate followed, hanging the modest array of clothing on available, velvet hangers. She kept a pair of jeans in her possession along with a baby blue eyelet shirt. “Thanks. I'll change now if you don't mind.”

“Help yourself.” Chayton exited the closet, then the bathroom altogether.

Once she was alone, Kate leaned against the counter and let out a long breath. She felt safer already, less scared that Anton and his men would find her. Questions and concerns remained over her decision to haphazardly marry a man she'd only known one day, yet she also thought it would force Anton to back down. In the end, wasn't it worth it? Turning to the mirror, she examined her reflection, shocked to see the dark circles under her eyes and the exhaustion in her expression. Most of the make-up she'd been wearing before had long since worn away under the rub of her fingers and her hair was a mess, the updo threatening to fall all the way out. She needed a shower, she decided, then remembered all her shampoos and conditioners were back at her suite, ruined beyond repair.

Her gaze landed on a few of the provided bottles situated on a silver plate on the counter, and she helped herself to those. She didn't think Chayton used them, and wouldn't mind if she did. Folding her clothes on the counter, she set the bottles on a shelf in the tiled shower, then stripped out of the maid uniform. The two mini-bottles of alcohol clinked in the pocket. She removed them and put them on the counter, tempted to open each one and down it. Resisting the urge, she went into the shower and turned on the spray.

If only the water could wash all her troubles and concerns away.

. . .

“Yes, I need several casual dresses, one cocktail gown, a few pairs of slacks and shirts to match. Jeans, tennis shoes and sandals or flats or something similar. Also, under garments. Put a rush on it and have it delivered as soon as possible.” Chayton gave the clerk the correct sizes, added the total to his bill, and hung up. He trusted the employees of the upscale boutique downstairs to find appropriate clothing. Anything was better than the maid's uniform.

Turning from the nightstand, he glanced at the closed bathroom door. The sound of the shower assured him he had time to make another call, this one from his cell phone. He fished it from his pocket and hit speed dial.

“What's up, old man?” Leander said.

“I don't have a lot of time to explain. She came back. Penelope—Kate. Her name's Kate. I've got the story—if not all of it, then most of it. I need you to organize the men and turn the search party into security. Entrances and exits and the parking lot. We might be leaving Singapore for the states, but I'm not sure yet. We're still deciding.”

“All right. That's a surprising turn around. What happened?”

“The short story is that Anton Bertini is trying to coerce her into marriage to get access to her fortune. Apparently he has lost a lot of his money, might even be broke, and he sees her as an easy target.”

“Should I check that out?” Leander asked.

“Yes. Find out just how broke Bertini is. And whatever else you can dig up on him. Siblings, friends, anything.”