Chayton

by Danielle Bourdon

  “Honestly, Kate? I really don't know what to believe. We'll follow through with our plans, though, and when he 'moves on', then you'll be free to seek an annulment and get back to your life.” Chayton slid the glass to a side table and walked to the end of the bed. He flipped open the button on the slacks. Buzzed down the zipper. Then he pushed the material over his hips to the floor.

  About to argue her point once again, Kate's breath caught in her throat. Chayton stood there, gloriously naked, the lean muscle of his hips and thighs on clear display. He picked the pants up and carelessly tossed them over the bench at the end of the bed. Then she watched him approach the far side, pull back the covers, and slide between the sheets. He arched one arm up over his head, the sheets hugging his frame, highlighting the shape of his thighs and legs—and a not-so-discreet bulge between his hips.

  Kate exhaled slowly, wishing she had a drink for herself.

  This might be the longest night of her life.

  Chapter Nine

  The flight to Kauai was uneventful. Silent. Chayton preferred to occupy himself with business while Kate stared out the window. He glanced her way a time or two, undecided how he felt 'the morning after'. It sure as hell wasn't as promising as it had nearly been when he'd had his hands on her breasts and his teeth on her throat.

  Stop thinking about it. He turned his mind from what could have been to what was upcoming. After gathering her things from her room and packing a case of his own, they'd departed Montana on a private jet not long after dawn. Now they were high above the ocean, heading toward the island where he wouldn't have to pretend so hard to be a happy groom. The members of his staff on the plane were few, and none would ask uncomfortable questions.

  Most of the night he'd lain awake, aware of Kate in the chair. He'd given serious thought to the information she'd given and dissected his feelings over it all. His gut still insisted that Kate was innocent, the victim of greed and corruption. Yet the memory of Anton's name on her lips still irked him, and he'd been cordial but cool to her since awakening. To his surprise, she hadn't pleaded her case during packing or a quick breakfast. The atmosphere between them wasn't tense, but it wasn't easy, either.

  The landing went as smooth as the drive through the towering cliffs and valleys of Kauai to their destination. A cluster of private beach houses sat near the shore in an exclusive area which catered to the rich or famous. The clubhouse situated in the midst of the houses boasted an upscale restaurant upstairs, and bars with seating overlooking the ocean on the main level. It was the spot of the upcoming gathering, where the elite would socialize and be seen.

  What Chayton liked about it was the isolated locale; if Anton planned to show, there was only one road in and one road out, making his arrival onto the scene noticeable to those paying attention.

  As Mattias and Leander would be.

  Exiting the limousine, he waited for his valet to remove the luggage from the trunk before strolling along the winding sidewalks past tall Bird of Paradise and other lush palms. Kate at his back, Chayton retained the silence from the aircraft until they entered the beach house itself. The few members of his staff that traveled with them had their own cottage separate from the beach house, meaning he and Kate had this place to themselves. Done in tones of emerald, tan and dark green, the interior highlighted the paradise surrounding them. Bamboo and palm accents added to the island ambiance.

  “You're welcome to this room,” he said, gesturing to one of three bedrooms the house offered.

  “Thank you,” Kate replied, her reply stiff and formal.

  Chayton pulled his luggage into the master bedroom, leaving Kate alone to unpack and settle in. With Mattias and Leander not due to arrive until tomorrow, and the rest of the exclusive guests the day after, Chayton would have to spend the interim time with Kate. Alone.

  Last night before the 'accident', he might have relished the down time. Today, he lamented being in such close quarters. He was never unaware of her, never unaware of her body and the passion she'd displayed before things went sour.

  Unpacking his own things, Chayton stretched the chore into the early evening, foregoing lunch or drinks. He heard Kate moving around in the kitchen, probably scaring up food for herself. The houses came pre-stocked with everything Chayton asked for.

  Exiting the room when there wasn't anything else to occupy him, Chayton discovered Kate sitting on the porch beyond the windows, a drink in hand. He made himself something small and quick to eat, then poured a tumbler full of scotch to take into the room designated as an office.

  That was how they existed for two days, coming and going like ghosts. He kept an eye on her when she wandered the sand toward the water, but didn't offer to escort her or provide any other companionship. He also caught himself listening for any calls she might try to make, though he never once saw her anywhere near the phone. If she contacted anyone, it was when he was deep asleep and unable to keep track. Several times, when he detected her most disappointed and maudlin moments, he nearly broke the silence. It wasn't easy to disconnect after what had almost happened, after the surge in emotion and chemistry. In the end, he'd gone about his way, more sober and serious than before.

  The night after, Mattias and Leander contacted him to announce their arrival and, not long after that, notified him that Anton was on the premises. Their plan to draw the man out worked exactly as they'd hoped. Reassured that Mattias and Leander had Anton in their sights—and thus Kate, should she risk meeting Anton on the sly—Chayton continued as he had been.

  On the third evening, he showered, shaved and changed into a fine suit of silver and black. This was it. The night he made a stand with Kate on his arm, the night they proved to the world that they were man and wife.

  He wished the circumstances were better. Two and a half days of utter silence had begun to get under his skin. He caught himself imagining all sorts of scenarios, most of which he put from his mind. If Kate was telling the truth, she would go along with the ruse and pretend to be his wife.

  Stepping into the living area, he straightened his tie and gave his cuffs a light tug. Putting his questionable mood into check, he glanced up and paused. The formal dress he'd chosen for Kate in Singapore, a floor length, crystal studded garment of pale blue, fit Kate to perfection. Tiny straps arched over her shoulders, the snug bodice outlining her svelte curves. Her waist looked smaller than ever. With her blonde hair styled into elegant waves, a small section drawn back from her forehead and secured with a clip, Kate presented a stunning combination of poise and elegance.

  She turned her head and met his gaze. The smoky make up she'd applied around her eyes enhanced irises of stormy gray and added another level of sophistication to her fine features.

  Chayton experienced a jolt of desire so strong it overwhelmed him. He wanted to march over there, drag her into a steamy kiss, then hoard her to himself for the rest of the evening, machinations be damned. Which would solve nothing in the long run but make their situation more tenuous.

  The way she looked him over in turn—inch by agonizing inch—drove him a little crazy. It tested his willpower and control.

  “Ready?” he asked once he figured out how to work his tongue.

  “Yes.”

  Chayton glanced at her hand to make sure her wedding band was in place, then collected her on the way to the door. The scent of her perfume, light and appealing, tickled his senses as they stepped out into the evening. It was a short walk along a torch lit path to reach the clubhouse. In the near distance, the sound of waves lapping at the shore vied with the rustle of palm fronds from a gentle, salty breeze. Other couples were making their way from their beach houses along other paths to the clubhouse as well, seen in glimpses past the large leaves of flowering plants.

  Leading Kate up two shallow steps to a wrap around porch, he scanned the perimeter but saw nothing out of the ordinary or out of place.

  He felt a fresh strand of tension in Kate's body as they crossed the threshold into the clubho
use proper.

  The time for confrontation with Anton was at hand.

  . . .

  Kate stepped into the clubhouse, resisting the urge to cling to Chayton's elbow. Uneasy and nervous, she absorbed the atmosphere; small globes of light hung from the ceiling, windowed walls giving a view of the dark ocean, with linen covered tables surrounding a small dance floor. An elegant color scheme of cream and black dominated the interior, from the table covers to the padded seats to the array of lighting that gave the room a soft, dramatic flair. Couples in expensive attire mingled near an ice sculpture and wine fountain; others drifted over the dance floor to music pouring from hidden speakers. Still more gathered around tables, drinking, smoking, clearly engaged in serious business discussions. Anton Bertini did not appear to be among the guests.

  “Remember, we're supposed to be happily married,” Chayton whispered near her ear. He looped an arm casually around her waist, bringing her against his side while he maneuvered them away from the doors.

  “It would have helped if we'd at least talked the last two days.” Kate reined in the rest of her sharp retort. If she pissed Chayton off enough, he might very well leave her here to deal with Anton alone.

  “It might have, yes,” he replied.

  Kate read between the lines of what he didn't say. It might have if she hadn't moaned Anton's name and threw a wrench into the whole thing. She didn't have time to dwell. Several people greeted them with obvious surprise at the news of their wedding. Word had definitely spread throughout the upper ranks of society. Kate smiled what she hoped was a convincing smile and stood next to Chayton while they returned greetings and mild chit-chat.

  “Dance?” Chayton asked after two more rounds of hellos.

  “Yes, thank you.” Kate accepted his hand and let him spin her onto the floor in between two other couples. She glimpsed Mattias and Leander during a slow turn, and glanced up to Chayton's face as they settled into a languid rhythm. “Why haven't you said hello to your friends?”

  Chayton met her eyes. “I did, from a distance. They're here keeping watch more than mingling.”

  “Looking out for Anton?”

  “Anton and anyone Anton brought with him.”

  “You mean his henchmen.” Kate shuddered at the thought. Unconsciously, she moved her body closer to Chayton's, using the dance to cover the motion.

  “You could call them that, I suppose.” Chayton looked beyond her, scanning past the heads of the dancers.

  Kate didn't glance away from the strong features of his face. He appealed to her like none other. There was something primal about Chayton beneath the austere veneer he displayed. As if he would have been more at home in loincloth on the wide open plains. Unlike some of the elite, soft men who never got their hands dirty, Chayton was built of solid muscle and callouses lining his palms. He existed equally in both worlds, able to shift from tuxedos to assaults in alleyways.

  When his body tightened under her hands, she cast a look toward Mattias and Leander. They weren't standing in the last place she'd seen. She said, “What's wro--”

  “He's here somewhere,” Chayton said, interrupting her.

  “Anton's here?” Kate refused to glance around the room again. More guests had arrived, though there were far less people here than at one of the usual elite gatherings.

  “Yes.” Chayton slanted a look down into her eyes and pulled her even closer.

  Mesmerized by his heat and the expression on his face, Kate relegated Anton to the back of her mind and focused on pretending as if she was in love and newly married. Her fingers tightened on Chayton's arm and she swayed against him, causing his eyes to narrow faintly.

  “Ah, if it isn't Kate. What a grand picture you present, my love. May I interrupt?” a suave voice said from somewhere behind Chayton. The faint Italian lilt to the words rose above the music just far enough to be heard.

  Kate would have recognized Anton's voice anywhere. She stiffened in Chayton's arms as Anton swerved into view to Chayton's left, decked out in a smarmy gold suit that managed to appear cheap rather than over-the-top expensive. His dark hair stood at angles in the front, his skin a deep, deep bronze from endless hours basking under a Mediterranean sun. Coming face to face with Anton was more of a shock than Kate thought it would be, and she held tight to Chayton, unnerved at the thought of even touching her late mother's lover.

  “No. We're not done dancing.” Kate denied Anton outright.

  “Excuse me, you are?” Chayton asked, giving Anton a dubious frown.

  Anton swerved his attention to Chayton and extended his hand, as if he expected Chayton to stop the dance right in the middle of the floor. “Anton Bertini, of course. And you must be Chayton.”

  With a subtle shift of his body, Chayton moved their impromptu party off the dance floor, keeping Kate at his side and Anton in front of him. He never did reach for Anton's hand, snubbing the greeting in front of everyone.

  “Anton Bertini. I'm sorry, I haven't heard much about you. But you're right, I'm Chayton Black. Kate's husband.”

  Kate sucked in a surprised breath and wrapped her hand in Chayton's when he casually reached for it. She hadn't expected Chayton to snub Anton, or pretend that he didn't know anything about him. It was a good ploy, however; Anton's smile faded and his hand dropped, along with a portion of his feigned good humor.

  “I hope you're not as rude to all your customers at Luxe Resorts as you are with your wife's longtime friends,” Anton finally said.

  Chayton smiled a smile that never reached his eyes. “I'm sure I wouldn't be. The fact of the matter is—any man who approaches my wife with the term my love on his lips gets no special treatment from me.”

  Anton slid his hands into his pockets, fingers fidgeting with keys or whatever else he might have there that clinked and jangled. “Let's cease with formalities, shall we? Everyone here knows this marriage for the farce that it is, and if you're the only one unaware, Mister Black, then that's your problem. Has Kate informed you that she promised herself to me? That we are, and have in fact, been lovers for a long time?”

  Kate gasped. “That's not true.”

  Anton made a tsking sound, swinging his attention from Chayton to Kate. “Now, now, pet. It's not nice to lie. You and I both know...”

  “Be quiet,” Kate hissed. She'd had enough. “I'm married. You need to get over it.”

  “What you ever might have been to Kate means nothing to me. As she stated, we're married and looking forward to a long life together. If you'll excuse us.” Chayton took a step away from Anton, bringing Kate along by the tether of their hands.

  Anton snagged Kate's opposite elbow, swinging her to face him. His expression had gone dark and foreboding, like the threats that fell from his lips. “You and I both know this marriage is not valid or real. And when it ends, you and I will finish what we started.”

  Kate barely had time to register Anton's words. Chayton inserted himself between them, physically removing Anton's gripping fingers from her arm.

  “Touch my wife one more time, and there won't be enough of you left to worry about.” Chayton stared Anton down, as if daring the man to press him.

  Kate let Chayton drive Anton back, relieved to have something between her and the bastard who seemed to understand that the marriage was probably a ploy to divert him. It didn't matter, she told herself. Anton had no legal right or claim to her or her fortune. He couldn't touch her, despite the fact she had married Chayton for the reasons he suspected.

  Anton's nostrils flared and for a moment, it looked as if he might press the issue. Then, after a short laugh and a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, he pivoted and walked away. Whistling, he greeted several guests who had been surveying the scene with curious interest.

  Chayton faced Kate once Anton moved away, both hands gently cupping her elbows. “Let's get a drink.”

  Kate licked her lips and stepped closer to Chayton. She laid her fingers on the lapel of his suit and tipped her chin up to meet his eye
s. “Can't we just go now? He's seen us and still believes I did this to thwart him.”

  “If we leave, that will cement in his mind that he's right. If we stay and mingle and dance, perhaps he'll come to understand that this isn't a temporary thing. Enforcing us as a couple in his mind is what we need to do, so that with any luck, after he checks to make sure the marriage is legal, he'll finally back off.” Chayton smoothed his fingers over her skin, calm and steady after the confrontation.

  “All right.” Kate still wanted to leave, but Chayton made sense. And if it resulted in Anton backing down, then it was worth putting up with his presence a little longer.

  Chayton bent down to brush a kiss against her cheek, then straightened and guided her toward one of the bars set up at the end of the room. He did not hurry or rush, and paused twice to smile and converse with a guest. Kate wasn't familiar with most of the people here, but she followed his lead and offered up quiet hellos and greetings.

  While she sipped at a full glass of wine, Kate stood next to Chayton and traded whispers with him about the island, about the flight, about anything that made them seem as if they were sharing intimate conversation. Every time Chayton stroked his hand down her back, Kate shifted in place, hoping to extend the warmth and weight of his palm.

  “Another?” Chayton asked, lifting her empty glass from her fingers.

  Kate hadn't realized she'd gone through the wine so quickly. “Yes, thank you.”

  Chayton had the drink refilled, and pressed it between her hands. His own drink, a harder mix of liquor contained in a squat tumbler, had hardly been touched. Kate brought the glass up for a lingering sip, wishing desperately that circumstances were different. Chayton had proven to be steady and determined in his quest to help her, despite his obvious irritation and wariness when she'd accidentally said Anton's name instead of his. If only Anton were gone, if only he would give up the chase. If only Anton hadn't ever pursued her to begin with, or lost all his fortune on bad investments and unsustainable debt.