by Scott, Talyn
Dylan was quick to offer white wine and a comforting smile. “Drink this.”
“Thank you.” After her first sip, Payton nearly gulped the rest. It was refreshingly delicious, and she was beyond thirsty after her private encounter with the infamous Dylan Easton.
“Ah, you enjoy muscadet, too.” Slowly, Dylan snaked his fingertips down her arm, sliding left and right, and then taking the nearly empty glass from her hold.
“French?” Payton questioned as Dylan’s hand disappeared under the tablecloth, finding her thigh for a gentle squeeze, though his eyes were anything but gentle. She felt her chin drop, but quickly composed herself.
“Yes, muscadet is French.” Avery’s eyes drifted from Payton to Dylan, his pupils expanding with heated interest. “Dylan spends much of his time in France, overseeing our hotel lines there. A few of his excursions include visiting our vineyards and choosing his favorite blends for our hotels and restaurants.”
Dylan picked at a dinner roll, keeping his eyes on her. “We’re opening another location in Southeastern France. I take advantage of any free time I find when there, and the winery visits are by choice. Micro-managing isn’t required of me,” he spoke in low tones, his fingers dipping between her thighs. Her dress was too tight to allow him access without unzipping, yet his teasing caresses heated her just as thoroughly. “However, recently, I’ve found a certain hands-on area too enticing to resist,” he added with another pointed fondle, and she couldn’t help but squirm.
“Speaking of French wine, I want to thank you for the generous gift, Avery, but I can’t accept it.”
“What generous gift?”
“The champagne,” she reminded, “delivered in a basket filled with oodles of French goodies. It was over-the-top amazing, but far too expensive for my comfort zone.”
Avery shook his head, his dark hair gleaming under the chandeliers. “Apart from the flowers, I’ve sent you nothing else.” His hand landed on her opposite thigh.
“Excuse me,” Payton said. This was too much, too confusing. Avery’s hand bumped right into Dylan’s fingers. She nearly knocked her chair over when she stood. “Uh, I need a powder room.”
“I’ll walk with you,” Avery offered.
“So will I,” Dylan said, eyeing her heatedly.
She could feel her entire body shaking as she grabbed her purse. “Thanks, but that’s not necessary.” Turning on her heel, she made for the nearest exit, spotting Libby’s eyes on her.
In no time, her neck-breaker sandals were clacking on the tile inside another funky mirror-tiled corridor. She was upset and confused, even wondering if she should return to the dining room at all, when Payton grew disoriented. One door looked like a door, but in actuality was its reflection. She spun, pressing her hands across the next wall right when an image appeared behind her: The man with the cane who’d stared hard at Libby on the dance floor. And even with the cane, he was imposing. “Who’s there?” She backed away as he stepped forward, closing every inch of distance she took. “Who are you?”
“Trey Easton.”
She touched her chest, her breath whooshing out in one big rush. “You frightened me.”
“I should frighten your bank account, at least.” He moved in front of her, his wavy hair a deep chestnut. But his eyes were a startling green tourmaline. And by the intensity of them, they told a story all their own. The surprising thing was he appeared too young to be sporting that kind of chip on his shoulder. “You haven’t deep enough pockets to fight my company. I can take you to court as many times as necessary, draining you in the process.”
“You have other possible roadways to choose from, so why fight to tear down the firehouse?”
“Your firehouse is in the middle of my property. You haven’t any viable roadway accesses due to the property lines I own. And you realize, for parking purposes alone, your apartments slash hippie-hangout will never pass inspection.”
She felt a threat in there somewhere. And since this conversation was a waste of effort, Payton asked with exasperation, “Who in the county did you payoff to screw with our property lines?” Something underhanded had transpired in the county paperwork long after Libby’s father had invested in the firehouse for her, yet there wasn’t a paper trail to be had. Every document backed up The Easton Company owning a complete circle around the firehouse, which included their parking lot and roadway access.
Instead of answering her question, he offered, “We can resolve this right here.”
Deal with the devil flashed across her mind, but she nodded. “Go on.”
“I’ll buy you out.”
This suggestion wasn’t Payton’s first choice or her second, for that matter. She had taken a chance with the only money she’d received for college tuition to become a business owner alongside her friends, to meld with the community she grew up in and loved dearly. Pushing the hair from her eyes, Payton figured it would be just her luck for Trey Easton to dangle this golden carrot, forcing her hand to avoid a lengthy and costly court battle. “I don’t want you to buy me out. I want you to fix whatever you’ve illegally maneuvered behind the scenes at the county office.”
He didn’t bother to deny it. “Never.” Closing his eyes briefly, he winced in pain. “Normally, I wouldn’t have suggested a buyout. After all, you have Dylan and Avery eating out of your palms, which anyone would find suspicious given our upcoming litigation.” He pursed his lips, staring at her unnervingly. “But I realized, tonight, their attentions aren’t exactly your doing.”
She shook her head. “They’re not eating out of my palms.” Were they?
“Miss Calloway, you’re not feigning naiveté, are you?”
“No, Mr. Easton, but given time in your world I would certainly master it.”
A bark of laughter left him. “I’ll make it easy for you. You’ve invested twenty-five thousand and so has Noah Wyatt. I’ll buy both of you out at three times your investment. It’s a ridiculous offer but I’m feeling generous.”
“Not that I’m considering your offer.” A lie and they both knew it. “But there’s three of us,” she corrected. “And Libby’s father bought the firehouse at auction for one hundred thousand.”
Trey put his shoulder on the wall, leaning. “Elizabeth must maintain her investment. I would simply take over your and Mr. Wyatt’s” – a devilish smile flitted across lips – “positions.”
Payton blinked in total bewilderment. “I don’t understand any of this.”
“I don’t expect you to understand.” A determined clicking sounded at the end of the hall. He tilted his head as if he could identify someone by the cadence of his or her steps. “However, you’re in no shape to refuse my offer.” As the clicks drew closer, he pulled away from the wall and handed her a card. “I’ve written my personal number on the back.”
“The have and have nots,” she mused aloud, accepting his card. “The power the rich have over the poor, does money really buy happiness? Cause I’m telling you right now that you look miserable, and your misery has nothing to do with my firehouse, does it?”
“I don’t have a meek bone left in my body, nor do I care what you think of me. I want to hear from you and Mr. Wyatt by the end of the week.” Easily, he found an exit at his left and disappeared.
She palmed the back of her tense neck, rubbing away the freaky conversation. “I guess I should have asked that uppity bastard where the damned bathroom is.”
“It’s this way,” Libby was suddenly next to her, tugging at her elbow. She had the presence of mind to keep her mouth closed during their two-minute jot down the next corridor, this one more sedate with ebony hardwoods and low-lying floral arrangements wrapped around pillar candles minus the colorful plumes. They found the nearest bathroom, a fancy number with one stall and gilded sinks.
Payton damped several paper towels and ran them across the back of her neck. Her thoughts drifted to yesterday, when Avery had backed her against the countertop. The way his body fit against hers, his scent,
and the strength in his arms as he held her made Payton feel almost delicate, certainly treasured. Was this her inexperience showing? Is that why she was completely overwhelmed by Avery’s attentions only to nearly loose her virginity at the hands of his cousin?
So what was she to do?
“You’re up,” Libby said, emerging from the stall.
“I’m good.” Her thoughts were racing. “Well, that’s a lie.”
“I saw them.”
“Them?” Payton squeaked.
“Yeah, I already knew Avery was after you.” She put her phone in front of Payton. “But then Noah texted me this. He missed his gig. His drummer wrecked his bike on the way to the appointed club and dislocated his shoulder.”
“Aaron?” Payton ran a finger over the phone’s screen, enlarging it.
“Yeah, they won’t be able to preform for a while.”
Nearly shocked speechless, Payton couldn’t believe what she was seeing. A picture of Dylan and the blonde from the tower posing at a Washington D.C. function with the caption reading: “Dylan Easton leaves Sarasota Florida socialite Caroline Roslyn for mystery redhead. Oh, my…” The next picture was an evening shot of Payton walking into the tower wearing the flapper dress. The one after that portrayed her walk of shame, her early morning escort via security while still in said flapper dress. Then, most surprisingly of all, the last picture showed Dylan escorting her inside the room behind the elevators, his hand possessively branding her lower back. “They have a clear shot of my face! It’s only a matter of minutes before they splatter my name all over the internet.” Her mother had been embarrassed enough over her father’s fall from grace, but this would finish her off. “Mom’s fought so hard to regain her mental stability and her dignity. And you know how these things get twisted around. I’ll forever be known as the slut who slept with Dylan Easton to save my firehouse, and we didn’t even go through with it.” Only because they were interrupted, she reminded herself.
“If they only knew the real you, and the way you’ve guarded your virginity, they wouldn’t accuse you of such nonsense.” Libby rubbed her shoulder sympathetically. “Where was that last one taken, somewhere in this hotel’s lobby?”
“Behind the elevators,” her voice broke.
“It’s going to be okay.”
Payton had so many things to tell Libby that she didn’t know where to start, so she blurted out. “Trey Easton has offered to buy me out for three times my investment, he wants to buy Noah’s interest as well, but you would stay a partner.” She wiped a tear from her cheek. “What do you make of all that?”
Libby gaped. “I don’t know what to make of it at all.”
Payton’s phone buzzed. “Neither do I. It’s ludicrous and he refuses to tell me his reasons.” She took the incoming call. “Hey, Noah, I’m sorry to hear about Aaron.” Noah was more concerned about her and the internet crap. “I’m fine. Yeah, we’ll be home sooner than later, with me crawling out of here wearing a paper sack over my head. Don’t dare drive down here!”
“We’re leaving now, Noah,” Libby said, snatching the phone. “She’s tougher than this.” She looked at Payton. “He wants to know if he can munch on your French gift basket.”
“Tell him to have at it.”
“Enjoy and we’ll see you in a few.” She slid her finger across the screen and handed Payton her phone. “He sounds hurt. You know – the way he sounded when you got those flowers, and then the basket. He’s jealous.”
Noah wasn’t comparable to the way Dylan or Avery made her feel. “Did you see all those claw marks and love bites on Noah recently?”
“He’s always wearing the remnants of wild sex.” She rolled her eyes and washed away Payton’s mascara streaks. “Noah doesn’t turn them away. What else is new?”
“I’ll never give him the opportunity to hurt me, and as sincere as he seems; I know he’ll never stay faithful.”
Libby looked at her appraisingly, nodding with satisfaction. “I was hopeful for you two, since you’re such good friends. But I won’t push him on you any longer. He needs to grow up.”
Payton frowned. “The gift basket.”
“What about it?” Libby grabbed the door handle, waiting.
“Avery didn’t send the gift basket and champagne. I asked him at dinner.” The color drained from Libby’s face. “What is it, Lib?”
“I phoned Dad right before we went in for appetizers, thanking him for buying our plates. He said he didn’t buy them.” She adjusted her dress. “That the price was fifteen thousand per plate and he refused to shell out forty-five thousand dollars more for our dilemma.”
“How did the tickets arrive?”
“A messenger left them in the downstairs office by the main gallery. There wasn’t a card, but Dad often forgoes notes and such, so I assumed they were from him.”
Payton knew Avery hadn’t sent the tickets, either, due to the fact he was surprised to see her tonight. “There wasn’t a card on that basket, either.”
“We’ve got a lot to figure out,” Libby said, opening the bathroom door and waving Payton ahead of her.
Payton groaned, “Let’s get home.” Right as Payton walked into the corridor, a determined hand gripped her arm with gentle steel.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
10
“Dylan,” Payton whispered through clenched teeth, “let go of me. Everyone’s staring.”
“And they’re going to keep on staring so why don’t you smile,” he urged.
Her mouth curved. “The internet has -”
Dylan cut her off, “We were alerted.” He had his phone to his ear. “I’ve got her. South parking garage, put Drake on it then.” Staring down at Libby, he greeted her with his charming playboy smile, “I am Dylan Easton. You must be Elizabeth Bailey. It’s a pleasure.”
“Is it?” Libby frowned, speaking just as quietly. “My best friend is all over the internet as your newest conquest.” She jabbed him with her finger. “I’m not happy about that.”
“Neither am I,” he countered without dropping his smile. “Find your valet ticket.” With a sigh, she produced it from her purse, handing it over with a scowl. “L3246,” he read into the phone before hitting end. “Elizabeth, my brother Drake will safely escort you to my private section of Hytel Plume’s garage. Your car will be waiting there the second you arrive.”
“Drake Easton is going to escort me?” Her lip curled in anticipation. “The man who threatened to take me to trial? Well, hot damn. I’ll be happy to chat his ear off on the way to your garage.” She tried to tug Payton’s arm from his grasp. “Where is he?”
Dylan kept his eyes locked with Payton’s, his voice low with intent, “Tell your friend goodnight.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.” Though the steel in his voice wound through her, stirring that delicious ache he’d left earlier.
“You’re forcing my hand. There are more reporters than I can shake a stick at roaming all sides of this hotel. You will walk through the lobby with me, out the front doors, and into my awaiting car as the lady you are.”
“Everyone will think I’m your…” She didn’t know the proper word to use. Girlfriend sounded silly for a man such as him. He didn’t look like the girlfriend type.
“My woman? Well you sure as hell won’t be labeled my conquest.” He shook his blond head. “I won’t stand for it. So there’s no hiding us. I refuse to sneak you out the back way as if I’m ashamed of our relationship.”
“What relationship are you referring to?” Libby was fuming. “Is this all to clear your conscience?” she asked as Drake showed up, carrying both of their wraps. “Or do you always drag virgins into secret rooms of your hotel?”
“Libby,” Payton whispered, “how could you?”
Drake’s mouth dropped, but he regained his composure relatively quickly. “Miss Bailey, Payton is in good hands.” He inclined his head to a set of doors, offering Libby the crook of his arm and Payton her wrap. “If you will, thi
s way.”
Libby ignored Drake’s arm. “Pay, I’m sorry…I was so angry.”
Payton’s eyes dropped to the floor as she twirled the black silk over one arm. If she could only fall in a deep hole somewhere. “I’m all right, just go home.”
“Keep your phone on,” Libby said as she followed Drake.
“I will.” Dylan stayed quiet for what felt like an eternity, as though he had an internal debate going on inside his head, his grip on her arm unfaltering. Reluctantly, Payton suggested, “Shouldn’t we go.” A small flash went off to her left. “People are snapping pictures of us.”
Though his smile remained, his jaw set stubbornly. “Keep your chin up, literally.” Dylan’s voice was encouraging yet unyielding. Without saying another word, he switched hands, placing one on the small of her back, with the other reaching around her waist and securing her wrist in a firm and comforting grip.
When they turned the next corner, Julian and Evan greeted them with unwavering smiles; Gilda Easton walking between them blew Payton an adorable kiss. They had their cool composures and camera-ready smiles at the ready. The high ceilings echoed conversations droning on, the chatter increasing when they walked through the main lobby beneath a blistering chandelier. Or maybe she was blinded by strobes going off in every direction.
“Dylan,” she pleaded, her smile slipping. She felt Evan or maybe Julian at her side. But who knew since she couldn’t see anything?
Dylan pressed his lips against her ear, his hold on her rock steady. “Remember what I said: chin up.”
A mocking voice asked, “Mr. Easton, out with the old, in with the new?” Flash. Snap. Flash. Payton covered her eyes with the palm of her hand. “What? No comment? Are you kidding me?”
