by Calista Fox
She released her lip. Shoved back her stool and stood. “I’m going to need a drink.”
“Break out the champagne,” Rory told her as she went to the wet bar and the wine chiller. Then he said to Christian, “You’ll do anything to make her a star, won’t you?”
“It’s what she wants. And let’s face it: She’s not meant to be hanging out here or in the library doing endless amounts of research. She should be in front of cameras and entertaining audiences.”
“And you’d pay whatever price you had to in order to make that happen?”
Christian speared him with an honest look. “And you wouldn’t?”
Rory clenched his jaw a moment, fighting the grin. Then he caved and said, “Of course. But with network interest…”
Christian nodded. “I want the largest medium and platform for this show. But Bayli also needs to know that this is happening any way it can. She has to buy into this, Rory. She has to understand that it’s real and long-lasting and—”
“That it’s okay to pay off all of those bills, because that fucking well is going to runneth over.”
“Damn straight.”
“Christian, buddy. You’re one hell of a man.”
“With a bigger cock than you.”
Rory let out a rumble of laughter. “Still living the dream, I see. Whatever. All that matters at the moment is that we’re a go regardless of how we … go. So, good news. Now … why don’t you pop the cork on that really expensive bottle of champagne she’s bringing our way? Not sure our girl knows that a private reserve such as that costs about six hundred dollars, but what the hell? Let’s celebrate.”
Christian took the bottle from Bayli and she set out the three glasses. Then she settled back on her stool and got down to business.
“So, I understand that we should be thinking exotic locales,” she said, “and, again, I have a lengthy list. But one thing that occurred to me when I was researching cultures and sights and local fare is that it seems as though lesser-known destinations hold a greater appeal. Like when Gordon Ramsay is visiting kitchens in England I’m more enthralled with the cozy, coastal towns than I would be if he stuck to London proper. I learn more about the country, the denizens, the customs that way. For example, I’d like us to explore Canada, particularly Nova Scotia. I mean, who the hell ever does a cooking show from Nova Scotia? Newfoundland or Labrador, for that matter. And what about New Brunswick?”
“Iceland, Greenland,” Christian said with a nod. “I see where you’re going with this.”
“But as a hook, I think something more attainable for the typical traveler might be in order,” she told them. “Which led me to Mexico.”
“Yeah,” Rory said. “I was headed that direction, too, but it’s pretty much done.”
“But not completely,” she told him. “Take La Crucecita, for instance.”
“Where’s that?” Christian asked.
“A small town north of Bahias de Huatulco,” she said. “Now that I think about it, Huatulco might be even better. It’s a conglomerate of nine bays with thirty-six widely undeveloped white-sand beaches. Very ‘old Mexico.’ Eighty percent of the tourism is domestic because they only have a small international airport—and it’s just not a hugely heard-of destination. A handful of resorts, mostly coastal, some solely occupying their own coves, with nothing but the Pacific Ocean sprawled before them. It’s hot and humid year-round, but look at these views.”
She handed over a few printouts.
“Nice,” Christian said of the turquoise waters and tree-covered hills.
She told Rory, “I’m thinking the regional chiles will probably be a staple for your best recipes. Maybe black mole salsa—thirty different ingredients, including chiles and chocolate. Every woman in the world will tune in for that. A hot chef and chocolate. That screams winner!”
“Not a thought to be discounted,” Christian agreed. “What else have you got?”
“My second selection is Todos Santos on the Baja Peninsula,” she said. “According to Jewel, Cabo San Lucas has become quite commercialized and it’s even spreading toward San José del Cabo, where a lot of celebrities have houses. But Todos Santos is more of that artsy, cobblestone-street quaint coastal village we’re shooting for. Tons of local flavor there.”
Rory studied some of the documentation on this town.
Bayli continued. “Finally, in the spirit of one of the last tried-and-true sleepy seaside villages, there’s Puerto Peñasco—or Rocky Point, in English. The town is on the cusp of being considered Cabo of yore, maybe in the next decade, so this would be a great time to showcase it. Shrimping is a mainstay and they have a fantastic fish market. The town is on the Sea of Cortez about an hour from the Arizona border.” She distributed more photos.
Christian shot Rory a look.
He said, “These weren’t on my list. But I like the views and the history. I bet we could do great things with these.”
Christian’s gaze slid to Bayli. “Excellent job. Tell us more.”
She went into the details and nuances of each locale, proving she’d done her homework the way she had when she’d played cigar hostess the night he’d met her. Just like then, Christian was impressed. Rory appeared to be so as well. They discussed a few possibilities for where they’d physically do the demos and Christian was sold on all the preliminaries. He slid another look Rory’s way, who nodded his approval.
“Well, then,” Christian said. “I’d say cheers are in order.” He held up his champagne glass and they did the same. They all clinked rims. “Here’s to … Oh, fuck. We don’t have a name for the show.”
Bayli and Rory exchanged a look.
“Shit,” she said. “That was the last thing I was thinking of.”
“It’ll come,” Christian told them. And took a deep drink. Then said, “Now that we have destinations, I have to get back on the phone.”
He kissed Bayli before heading to his study.
NINETEEN
Bayli had a series of photo shoots and then interviews lined up, some individually, most with Rory. It was next to impossible to do as Christian had asked and act professionally, like there wasn’t anything going on behind the scenes between her and Rory, especially when it was so easy, so natural, for them to flirt with each other. A greater challenge was pretending there was nothing going on behind the scenes with her, Rory, and Christian.
But Bayli played her part.
She returned to her apartment building a couple of days before they were to leave for Huatulco so that she could collect some of the clothes she’d picked out with her personal shopper and pack up a few other items. Christian had insisted on hiring a car service for her, and Bayli got a little thrill over having her own driver, Max. Her dreams were finally starting to come true. More so than she’d ever imagined, actually. She hadn’t factored into her Grand Plan two amazing lovers she couldn’t get enough of—who couldn’t get enough of her.
At that moment Bayli was feeling pretty damn lucky.
Two seconds later, however …
She unlocked the door and stepped into the small space. Her keys hit the floor. Along with her jaw. Her heart sank to somewhere around her knees as her gaze swept over the disaster that was now her once meticulously decorated apartment.
“Oh, my God,” she said on a sharp breath.
Max peered around her, then instantly sprang into action. “Stay right here.” He checked the bathroom, the tall armoire, and under the bed, to make sure the intruder was no longer inside. Then Max eyed the mess of ravaged furniture and clothing, broken vases and lamps.
Bayli’s beloved books were scattered everywhere. She could barely process it all. Was in a bit of shock while her driver continued to move forward, calling the police. Then Christian.
This brought her around. “He’ll be completely enraged when he sees my place trashed.”
“Don’t touch anything,” Max instructed.
“I wouldn’t even know where to start.” Tears stung h
er eyes. Everything she owned that wasn’t at Christian’s apartment, of course, had been destroyed. Her CDs, the small single-disc player. Her dishes. Even her shoes.
She carefully navigated around the piles on her floor and crossed to the bed. The jewelry box she’d kept on a shelf she’d installed herself was overturned, the cheap costume pieces strewn over the rumpled comforter and sheets that had been shredded. She did a quick mental inventory. Something was missing.
Her gaze dropped to the floor again. Then her eyes squeezed shut, though tears seeped out of the corners as her heart broke.
Her lids fluttered open and she sank to her knees, her fingers sweeping the air an inch or so above the remnants of the crystal bracelet her mother had given her.
“Damn it,” she choked on a sob.
She usually always wore it but had left it here after changing out the tote bag she regularly took to Christian’s. She’d been doing laundry that day and had taken the bracelet off and put it away for safekeeping. Now it was nothing but microscopic shards.
“Unbelievable,” she whispered in agony. Her fists clenched. “Who would do this? Who would ruin all of my stuff?”
Max was still doing a visual inspection that led him to the Roman shade covering the window. He drew it back and swore under his breath.
“Well, I can’t say who,” he told her, “but I can tell you they broke in through your window. They used the fire escape to get up here.”
“This is insane. There’s nothing in this apartment worth robbing me over. And for God’s sake, why wreck everything? Because there’s nothing here worth robbing me over? Did it piss them off that they were able to get in and then found absolutely nothing of value to anyone other than me?”
“I don’t know,” Max said with a shake of his head. His tone was low and full of empathy as he added, “Seems as though they’d get a few bucks by pawning those clothes and shoes. But that would leave a paper trail. Plenty of crooks get busted because they hock the things they steal.”
“So best just to tear it all apart? What the hell were they expecting to find from someone in this building? You don’t rob the poor, right?”
“They were likely looking for some electronics.”
“I don’t even have a TV!”
Bayli wanted to scream. But what good would it do?
The police eventually arrived, not looking remotely surprised by the break-in, not in this neighborhood. Nor were they overly enthused to take her statement and survey the damage. Until Christian and Rory showed up. The female officer got a little starry-eyed over Rory, and her male partner wanted a recommendation for a steak marinade.
Christian took Bayli out into the hallway and pulled her into a tight embrace. She cried on his shoulder. It was one thing to feel violated over having her private space turned upside down, her pretty new clothes destroyed. But her bracelet … that couldn’t be replaced. It had been a tangible connection to her mother. Something Bayli could admire and touch. It had also represented a fond memory when she had so few of them from her childhood.
Now it was gone.
“I’m so sorry this happened to you,” Christian said.
“Some of the things in there meant a lot to me.”
“I’m sure. Again … I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”
She felt his own agony—for her. It made her feel worse, because she’d dragged him and Rory into the bleakness she’d been trying to escape.
The police said they’d investigate; Rory provided some more information, including letting them in on the spider delivery. This intrigued the officers more than the ransacking. They exchanged contact numbers with Rory and said they’d call. Christian and Rory took Bayli back to Christian’s apartment.
“I need a shower,” she said as Rory helped her out of her coat. “I feel creeped out again.”
She headed upstairs and stood under the spray for a while, trying to find some perspective. Bayli was usually a silver-linings kind of gal. But it was difficult to see around the glaring loss of her bracelet.
After she dried her hair, she slipped into a pair of black leggings and socks and one of Rory’s vee-neck sweaters in heather gray. She joined Christian and Rory downstairs, where they had a nice fire going that helped to warm her chilled insides. Lily was also there.
Christian’s assistant gave her a quick hug. “That’s just terrible about your apartment, Bayli. You must be devastated.”
“It’s tough to swallow at the moment, but I’ll survive.”
“Thank God you weren’t there at the time. Anything could have happened.” Lily squeezed her hands. “You must be so freaked out.”
“Kind of regretting that I bypassed renter’s insurance,” she tried to jest. But her tone was flat and hollow.
Christian put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head.
Lily looked taken aback by the show of affection and covered it up by lifting a shopper’s bag from the long, glass-topped dining table in the center of the cavernous room and thrust it at Bayli, saying, “I brought some necessities, since Christian said everything was smashed.”
“Thanks, that was really nice of you,” Bayli said, accepting the bag. “Luckily, a lot of my personal items are here, but I’ll reimburse you for all of this.”
“Oh, um…” She shot a look toward Rory, then turned her attention back to Bayli, who’d never seen Lily Madison quite so flustered. “No worries. I’m just trying to help. I can’t imagine what you’re going through. Really, it must be terrifying.”
Rory crossed his arms over his chest and said, “I’m sure someone in the neighborhood saw something that will give the police a lead.”
“Right. In the meantime,” Lily said, “I have a friend who’s a Realtor, if you want to look at some different places to rent. She can find you something in your price range. In a safer part of town. And I’m more than happy to help you shop for new furniture and clothes. I’m an expert at that.” She smiled eagerly.
“You’re really very helpful, Lily,” Bayli said. “I’m not even sure where to start, honestly. Cleaning the place out is the first order of business, I guess.”
“We’ll hire someone to take care of that. And you can stay here,” Christian offered … quietly demanded? “In fact, I’d prefer it.”
“I think that’s a great idea,” Rory agreed. “You’re spending most nights here, anyway.”
“I didn’t know that,” Lily said, looking uncomfortable again, making Bayli wonder if there’d been some sort of romantic involvement between her and Christian. Or Rory. Both? Or perhaps Lily just preferred to be “in the know” about all facets of her boss’s life. “I thought you and Rory…?” Lily shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. None of my business. I’ll be going now.”
“Thanks again,” Bayli told her. To Christian, she said, “And thanks for the offer. It’ll be helpful not to have to worry or think about the apartment while there’s still so much to do before we leave for Huatulco. I have to buy all new outfits and shoes again.”
“Wait.” Lily placed a hand on Christian’s arm, her uncomfortable expression turning to one of grave concern. “Hold on a second. You’re not seriously considering this trip right now? Launching the webcasts while Bayli’s clearly under fire? Christian, that could be very dangerous for her. For all of you.”
“I’d say that’s true,” Rory interjected, “except that whoever’s trying to rattle her cage is here in New York. If we were shooting here, that might cause a problem, leave her wide open to be targeted. But we’re traveling to very remote areas in Mexico. I highly doubt this person is willing to follow her from location to location. And even so, we just decided on the destinations. They’re not currently public knowledge.”
“These things leak, Rory. You know that,” Lily insisted. “It seems a bit risky to move forward before the police even have the chance to try to find some leads.”
“I want to do this,” Bayli said. “We’ve invested too much time and effort, not to mention money, into
kicking off this series. Rory’s ready to turn the restaurant over to his executive chef, and we’re at the perfect point to launch the show.”
“She’s right,” Rory concurred.
“And I’ll be with the two of you the whole time,” Bayli added. “In fact, I’ll be under your nose more while we’re traveling than here in Manhattan.”
“That’s true.” Christian raked a hand through his hair as he debated the situation. Then said, “We’ll move forward. But if the police don’t come up with anything concrete, I’m going to speak with a private investigator and a bodyguard when we get back.”
“Fine.” Bayli nodded. “I just don’t think it’s anything to worry about while we’re in Mexico. According to Scarlet, who researched the ISPs for the stalker e-mails I’ve received and the worst of the hater comments related to the video, the provider is in Japan. Either in or around a prison, as best as she can tell. So, if it’s him and he’s trying to get me to stay away from Rory, then he can find people here in New York to carry out his dirty work. Much more difficult for him when we’re in Mexico.”
“Why didn’t you tell us any of this?” Rory asked. “About Scarlet looking into the ISPs.”
“She did it on her own, after I told her about the spiders. I didn’t want you to think I was still upset about that.” She kissed his cheek. “You’ve had enough to contend with, getting the restaurant and staff ready for your departure, dealing with the media, and plotting out chefs to meet with on our trip. Not to mention other things.” She winked.
“It would probably be best if, in the future, you didn’t keep things like that from us.” This from Christian.
She kissed him as well. “Duly noted.”
“Well, I need to get back to the office,” Lily said. “Call me if there’s anything I can do for you. Anything at all. I’m here to help.” She whirled around on her tall heels and breezed out of the apartment, leaving her signature fragrance wafting under everyone’s noses.