Chayton (12 page)

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 clubhouse 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 eyes. “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.

She couldn't build her world on
if only
, however. What she needed to do was end the Anton situation once and for all. The question was
how.
Anton, judging by his reaction tonight, still had intentions of pursuing her fortune. He didn't believe her marriage was real—and he was correct, although it
was
legal—and was probably even then devising a way to turn the situation around.

The most expedient way was to get rid of Chayton Black. Rather than wait on an annulment or a break up, taking Chayton's life would make her a widow, and put her right back on the market again.

Stiffening in fear at the thought of Anton bringing harm to Chayton, Kate took another, longer sip of wine. She wished it was scotch, or vodka, or tequila. Something stronger to help knock down her uneasiness.

Unexpectedly, she met Anton's gaze across the room. He had his cell phone to his ear, watching her with a full blown scowl while he conversed with someone on the line.

Kate's mind raced. Was he making those kind of dreaded plans even now? Was he putting a hit man into place?

Right then, Kate promised herself that she wouldn't ever allow Anton to hurt Chayton. And hard on the heels of her promise came the answer to everything.

Suddenly, Kate knew
just
what to do.

While Kate sipped her wine, Chayton held his tumbler without taking more than a small sip or two for appearances sake. With an arm settled around her waist, he stood at her side and observed Anton without making it apparent that he did so. The man was a snake, that much was certain. Chayton knew the type well. The type that would stop at nothing to get what they wanted, the type that had no compunction in regard to business or ruthlessness. He was aware that Anton was not diverted by the knowledge of Kate's marriage, but this was only the first hour. The first night. Eventually, Anton would have to realize that this particular honey-hole was impossible to pillage.

Glancing at Kate, Chayton considered the vague frown on her brow and the thoughtful look in her eyes. He couldn't blame her for being nervous and fidgety in Anton's presence, yet he was still perturbed enough over her slip-of-the-tongue that he didn't go out of his way to reassure her that everything would be all right. On the other hand, her reaction to Anton argued against the idea that Kate was secretly lovers with the man, and again, he had to caution himself about how good actors and actresses could be when they really wanted something. It wouldn't be the first time this ploy had been used.

Yet his desire for her remained. He wanted to see her look at him like she had in his bedroom in Montana, hear her breathless moans. Twenty times a day he recalled their fake wedding night and what had almost happened. He'd examined her reactions to him from a hundred angles, never finding fault with any of it until the end. A war raged inside, arguing facts and probabilities and odds.

Maybe her slip-of-the-tongue had really been just that. An unfortunate accident.

Setting his drink down, leaving Anton's whereabouts to Mattias and Leander, Chayton picked Kate's almost empty wine glass from her fingers and deposited it beside his own. Then he drew her in close and with a slow turn, spun her onto the dance floor. Her surprise registered with a widening of her eyes and a slight part of her lips. Tempted to, he bent his head and claimed her mouth. This was no chaste touch of lips but a
taking
, a dominating parry of tongues and breath and taste that instantly spiked his lust.

He liked the give in Kate's body, the way she bowed into him and slipped her arms around his neck. It encouraged a switch of angles in the kiss to get even deeper, to raid the sweet hollows where he lapped up the essence of her like a starving man at a feast. Whispers from nearby dancers told him that at least a few people were staring. He was too caught up to glance at Anton and see if he was one of them. Likely so, Chayton decided, and probably with steam coming out his ears to boot.