Chayton by Danielle Bourdon Read Free Book Online

tilted it her way; an offer.
    Kate couldn't refuse. She was dying of thirst. Following, she eased the bottle from his fingers, opened it, and had a long drink. Only after several swallows did she attempt a reply. “No. Of course I'm glad you and your...whoever that was...stepped in. I would have been in trouble if you hadn't. But you have to realize—it was also startling to see you there. In the middle of an attack, it was difficult to figure out who was doing what, and why. So I ran.”
    “I can understand that. And it's not a cold shoulder so much as me wanting to make sure you want to be here.” Chayton had a long drink, watching her past the tilt of the bottle.
    Kate tore her gaze off his exposed throat, annoyed with herself at noticing the shift of muscle and tendon. She looked at the counter instead, until she trusted herself to meet his gaze and hold it. He was watching her with an unreadable expression. “Yes, I want to be here. No one is holding a gun to my head.”
    He said nothing, apparently waiting her out. Waiting for her to open dialogue on the reasons why she'd come back. What a complicated mess this was.
    “I'm here because I need help.”
    “That's obvious. What is it I can help you with?”
    Kate opened her mouth to ask for—what? Suddenly, she wasn't sure what she needed Chayton to do. Taking her home would result in the same thing happening when she'd been there last time. She could ask for a loan, but where would she go and what would she do if Anton had gained access to her account, shutting her away from her own money? A loan would only last so long. It didn't solve her problem long term.
    “Why don't you just tell me what's going on. Start with your real name, and let me see what I can do.” Chayton's tone changed. He grew quieter, more serious and sober.
    Kate, swayed by the sincerity in his eyes, decided to trust him. She said, “My name is Kate. Please don't ask for my last name, I'm not ready for that yet. But my real name is Kate, and as you've discerned, I have a little problem.”
    “That's the understatement of the year,” Chayton said. Then he inclined his head. “Kate. That rings truer than Penelope. Tell me about your problem.”
    She fidgeted with the hem of the apron, figuring out exactly how to tell him without telling him too much.
    “The more you tell me, the better equipped I'll be to help you. I won't break your confidence to anyone unless I need them to do something for me, acquaintances that I trust with my life.”
    Torn, Kate set the bottle of water down and paced through the suite. His was set up different than her own, the colors and furniture more masculine and classical. The bed, she noticed, looked exactly as it had when she'd left it. Or a very close approximation. He hadn't had any sleep as far as she could tell. He'd sacrificed more of himself than he needed to, and it had a stark affect on her. It made her want to confide everything. To let someone else share the burden of her circumstance. Realizing he might have dozed off in a chair, on the floor, or even that her perception of the wrinkled sheets might be mangled and that he'd gotten some rest after all didn't change the sudden influx of guilt.
    Facing him, she crossed her arms over her middle and met his eyes. “Anton Bertini wants to find me so he can try and force me to marry him. By trick, or blackmail, or downright intimidation, he means to become my husband in the near future. I had to flee my home for fear he'd slip a drug into my drink, call in witnesses and fumble through a ceremony I was never awake for. He'd get them to lie and say it was all consensual, so I wouldn't stand a chance in court.”
    “Why would he have to force you if he knows it's something you don't want?”
    “Because it's the only way he can get his hands on my fortune.”
     
    . . .
     
    The pieces of the puzzle finally started coming together. There were still big chunks missing, but Chayton was able to fill in quite a