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 hange
rs. 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.”
“Got it. So you're taking her on the run?”
“I'm going to take away his desire to marry her. It's the easiest way to protect her.”
“By going back to the states? But isn't he from there?” Leander sounded confused.
“By marrying her myself.”
“...whoa, whoa. You're what?”
“She's on board with the idea. It's a temporary fix, that's all. Once Anton realizes she's off the market and unreachable, he'll turn his attention to easier prey.” Chayton didn't have any hesitation about taking this step. He hadn't broken into a cold sweat, had second thoughts, or felt the desire to flee far and fast from the situation.
Silence stretched down the line. Finally, Leander said, “Are you sure about this?”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to have a pre-nuptial agreement drawn up? How do you know you weren't the target all along? I mean, what if she's working with Anton? What if she knows damn well who you are and how much money you have?”
Those were all valid questions. Chayton knew if he was in Leander's shoes, he'd be thinking exactly the same thing. The members of the Royal Elite were a paranoid, wary bunch who typically questioned everything. He'd made the offer on gut instinct, and he still felt it was the right decision after asking himself some of the same questions Leander posed. It must sound crazy to his brethren.
“I'm confident that's not the case,” Chayton said after a moment. “And no, there's no time to call my lawyers and have anything drawn up. We'll be doing this tonight or tomorrow or something, I think. The sooner we do it, the safer she'll be.”
“Wow man, you're blowing my mind,” Leander said, never one to hold back. “We'll get on the security. Let us know when you're planning to depart the city, too, so we can meet you at the airport.”
Chayton smiled, but didn't outright laugh at Leander's shock. “Plan for it soon. See if Mattias can get the jet cleared as soon as possible. I'll need one of you for a witness, too. Depending how it goes.”
“I...we'll...yeah. A witness. You got it, brother. I'll call Mattias now and get things arranged.”
“Thanks.” Chayton rang off. He knew Leander wanted to call Mattias—and probably Ahsan and Sander, too—to tell them what was going on. That Chayton might have lost his mind. He expected Mattias to call and try to be the voice of reason within the next ten minutes.
While he waited for Kate to finish, he started pulling clothes from the drawers to set them on a nearby chair. It didn't take long. He never fully unpacked his suitcase whenever he traveled for just this reason: he might need to make a quick exit, and the less he had to pack, the better.
The hair dryer blared to life just as he put the last pair of socks atop the stack. He glanced at the bathroom door, then reached for his phone when it beeped. That hadn't even taken the ten minutes he'd guessed.
“Mattias,” Chayton said, without bothering to glance at the caller identification. He knew who it was.
“I just heard the most incredible story,” Mattias said by way of hello.
“It's true.”
“As your friend of many years and a member of the Elite, I have to ask—are you positive about this, Chayton?”
“I think it's the best way to keep her safe. We'll attend a few soirees, show up at a ball or two, until Bertini can't deny the inevitable and moves on. Once he does, and once his attention is fully diverted, we'll simply get an annulment. Easy.” Chayton paced to the window, looking out at the expansive cityscape bathed in late afternoon sunlight.
“I hope you're inwardly as sure as you sound over the phone. This is a huge step, especially if you're not going to make time for a pre-nup. You're putting a lot on the line anyway.”
“I believe her. She didn't jump on marriage—in fact, she was wary when I brought it up. She agreed, but in that halting, am I doing the right thing kind of way. She's not after my money, I'd bet my stake in the family empire on it.”
“What gets me is that I can totally see Ahsan doing something like this, but not you. You're always the voice of reason and clarity. That's why I know you won't mind if I do some extra background digging.”
Chayton rumbled a quiet laugh. “I expect you all to do that, yes. Dig. See what you find. I don't know her last name yet, so I can't help you there.”
“Did you ask if she was pregnant?”
“No. She said she's never been with Bertini, so I doubt that's an issue.”
“What if she's lying?”
“I feel confident she's telling me the truth. It's just instinct. Her tone, expression, actions—they all enforce the story she told.”
“If you have even a sliver of doubt all of a sudden, don't hesitate to call it off. And I've cleared the jet, we can leave any time. Just give us a couple hours notice.”
Chayton heard the open skepticism in Mattias's voice, the concern and worry. Oddly, he wasn't worried at all. The dryer cut off in the bathroom. Chayton twisted a look toward the door, then faced the window again.
&n
bsp; “I'll find out in the next half hour what the plans are and I'll contact you. Thanks, Mattias.”
“Any time, brother.”
After the call, Chayton slid the phone back into his pocket. He turned just in time to see Kate exiting the bathroom. The jeans and baby blue eyelet shirt enhanced Kate's delicate femininity. She had one of those figures that made most men look twice. Chayton tried to ignore the smooth skin above the scooped neckline, the hint of collarbone disappearing under the material, and how he had the strange desire to skim his fingers along the slender column of her throat. He met her eyes.
“Feel better?” he asked.
“Much better, thank you. I used your little shampoo and conditioner, I hope you don't mind.” She lifted a hand to touch the wayward strands of blonde hair that she'd affixed into a messy knot.
“Of course I don't mind. Have you given any thought to where you want to do this? There's a jet standing by is why I ask. We need to give them a couple hours notice before take off.” He leaned the back of his hips against a desk and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Well. I can't seem to decide if we should 'fake' a small ceremony, or just call in an official. But I do think we should do it back in the states.”
“If we got all dressed up, we can have someone take photos and pass one or two out to the media. That should get his attention faster than word of mouth.”
“It should. You won't mind people finding out you're 'married', only to have an annulment a few months later? I worry about tarnishing your name,” she said, fidgeting with the hem of the shirt.
He rumbled a laugh. “Don't worry. I'm not concerned what others will think of a quick marriage and annulment. It serves a purpose—hopefully without bloodshed—and that's the best outcome we can want.”
A thought seemed to strike Kate. She frowned. “You don't have a girlfriend or someone you're dating who will mind?”
“I wouldn't have offered if I did.” Chayton hadn't been in a binding relationship in several years. With the pick up in activity with the Royal Elite, he found it easier to remain unattached.
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