The Sheikh's Secret
Page 16
Dectyl Co. Chief Executive Officer.
April looked up at him, then back down to his image on the top right corner. The faces matched. But this bad boy biker was far from the CEO stereotype.
"Are you serious?" she asked. "The CEO? You?"
Byron pursed his lips, and she realized how rude she'd been.
"I'm sorry."
"It's a recent development," Byron cut in, her sentence barely finished before his followed. "It feels a little surreal to me, too. But it is what it is."
There was pain in his words. April swallowed then shook her head to clear her thoughts, then looked down at the papers again. The rest of the information written seemed trivial. There was some information on his background education and his present address for her reference, but nothing she saw convinced her that he had the type of personality to build a company from the ground up. Something else was at work, and it was something papers weren't going to clue her on to.
"What about my clothes and my possessions? My makeup and my toiletries and—"
"All taken care of." Byron uncrossed his arms. To April's disdain, he was fond of cutting her off. "I got your sizes from your file and stocked your closet with new clothes, and I had one of my assistants assemble a cosmetic and uh, other girly shit collection for you, based on your skin type and your coloring. She assured me she did a thorough job."
It felt surreal. He'd done all of that for her? There had been no obligation, and yet he'd gone out of his way to make her feel at home. Beneath the leather exterior, April thought she could see a glimmer of a softer man.
"Let me see."
"If it's not good enough I'll just get you something else." He gestured towards the door on the right. "The bedroom. The closet is on the right hand side, and the bathroom is through the door. While you explore and make yourself at home, I've got a work day to complete. So if you'll excuse me, I'll meet you back here later and then I'll take you out to explore the neighborhood."
Byron had turned to leave, but April caught him with one last question before he did.
"The cars in the garage," she said, "are they yours?"
"Yeah." He glanced at her from over his shoulder, a hint of a smirk on his face.
"Let's take one of them instead of a bike, okay?"
"We'll see how I'm feeling after the day is done," Byron replied. He entered the opened elevator and turned to look back at her. "The deal is that I keep you safe, not that I bend over backwards to tend to your tiniest discomfort. A guy's gotta have some fun."
Before she could retort, the doors slid closed.
It was going to be a hell of a change, but April couldn't help but think that throwing Byron Black into the mix made it all the more palatable.
By a wardrobe, Byron had meant that he'd bought her more clothes than April had ever owned in her life. Fine gowns, sun dresses, jeans, slacks, skirts t-shirts, tank tops, the cutest blouses she'd ever seen, and on and on. And the shoes. It was clear Byron had spent thousands of dollars to help her feel 'at home', and April was astounded. Money like this would pay for a good chunk of her education, and yet Byron seemed to shrug it off like it was nothing. How wealthy was the leather clad rebel?
The closet was a room onto itself, a huge walk-in affair attached to a luxurious bedroom. This was how royalty lived, she was sure. The bed, at least a King if not bigger, was piled with rich pillows and the softest comforters she'd ever touched. The windows here were more modest, but still oversized. Uncovered by curtains, they offered a brilliant view. April wondered if Byron would be sleeping in the same room, but she shook the thought off quickly. Byron was rich enough to sleep wherever he wanted, so why would he choose to sleep beside her? There were women who were more slender and far more attractive to choose from.
As was the rest of the unit, the bathroom was spotless. Name brand makeup products sat in a case with accompanying brushes, waiting for her to explore. Each one matched her skin color and complemented her eyes. The assistant, whoever she was, did astounding work. April was spoiled as she never had been before.
When Byron returned home several hours later, she'd put her wardrobe to good use. A thorough shower in the most lavish bathroom she'd ever used had led her to redo her makeup in full using the new products. With care April styled her hair using the products she found, and then she slipped into her closet to select something new to wear. The possibilities were endless, but in the end she selected some form fitting black jeans and a pretty blouse. It was likely that Byron would take the bike out for another spin, and she wanted something that wouldn't blow back in the wind and have her moon the entire city.
Hanging on the back of the closet door was a leather jacket, and April couldn't help but laugh. Of course there was a leather jacket. She rolled her eyes skywards and unhooked it, and when Byron came through the door after the day was over, he found April wearing it. She was sprawled out on the couch, watching a show on the giant television screen.
"I'll take it by the way you're dressed that you've reconsidered the bike," Byron announced as he plopped down beside her. There was no finesse in how he moved; the rich were always prim and proper, so what was his deal? April looked him over, savoring his toned body, before she turned her eyes back to the television.
"Not even."
"Too bad. It was a tough day, and I need to let off some steam."
"Some boyfriend you are. You need to be nice to me; I'm the one who's approving your pay check." As soon as she'd said the words, April realized how strange it was. Why was Byron working for the Witness Protection Program when he was already so rich? If he really was the CEO of a company, there was no way he needed a side source of income.
Byron hitched an eyebrow, picking up on the discrepancy as she did.
"Right. Well, tell you what. If you don't like the bike, you can stay up here in my luxurious flat and spend the evening locked up like a songbird in its cage. If you change your mind, you can join me and see what this city has to offer."
With that said, Byron pushed himself up from the couch and started to wind towards the elevator.
"So those are your choices. Take or leave my offer of going out tonight."
April sat up and peeped over the back of the couch, watching him approach the elevator. Byron didn't take no for an answer, and while she had first found it frustrating, it was starting to grow on her. The same stubborn qualities her mother had accused her of possessing were reflected in him, and in him April met her match.
"Well," he'd arrived at the elevator doors, which had opened, "good night, Tristan."
"Wait!" April insisted. She sprang up and jogged to join him, pushing past the biker to enter into the elevator first. "I'm coming. I'm not going to waste an opportunity to see the city, not when I've been cooped up so long back home."
"Good girl." Byron grinned as he stepped into the elevator after her. He was handsome brooding, but he was so much more breathtaking when he smiled. April felt butterflies, and she crossed her arms to try to distract herself. The leather pulled across her back, reminding her that this new life she was stepping into was one he had helped shape. The reminder did nothing to sooth the weightless feeling.
The elevator took them to the second basement, and Byron selected a helmet from a cabinet inside the elevator building before he took her back to the chrome motorcycle they'd previously used.
"Now that you've ridden once," he told her, "you'll be a pro this time around. But the helmet is still a must."
April secured it as he got on, and with a bit more skill than before she sat behind him. Before she knew it they were pulling out of the garage and speeding up the ramp towards the main street with far more speed than she felt was safe. Byron didn't bat an eye; he was skilled, that much was obvious.
They broke out onto the street and sped away. April looked over her shoulder to examine the building they'd left. The garage sat beside a skyscraper, most definitely commercial. And yet, Byron had a loft at the very top. Was this Dectyl Co?
They left the commercial core and took to the urban center of the city. In the early evening people crowded the streets as they shopped and made their way to their destination. The streets were jammed, but Byron did not slow. He wove between cars like he owned the streets, eliciting honks and slamming breaks from other motorists. April had never felt more frightened, but she'd also never felt so alive. There was something about fear, and letting go of it, that reminded her that life was about more than just existing. Until now she'd been surviving, but with Byron she had already started to thrive.
Panicked gasps as they darted through traffic turned to bursts of laughter, and soon April's cheeks burned with her mirth. The scent of leather and of his woodsy cologne mingled with the refreshing night air, and affection burned in her heart for him. Beyond seeing the city, this experience was one she would always treasure: pressed against Byron's tight back, watching lights and faces flash by, laughing deep. For as long as she lived, April was sure she'd remember this moment.
The traffic died down, and they slowed. When they stopped and Byron dismounted, they stood before a sprawling park. A stone path ran through land occupied by towering trees, reminding April of Central Park. April took off her helmet and tucked it beneath her arm, grateful to have it off.
"A taste of the outdoors in the middle of the city," Byron said with a casual shrug, as though the slice of paradise he'd brought her to within the thriving core of the city was no big deal. "Not a lot of people come here, so when I need some time to cool off, this is where I go. Thought it'd be nice to bring you to some place you can come to cool off before the rest of the city starts to boil beneath your skin. I know it gets the better of me more often than not, especially these days."
April scrambled off of the bike after him, looking into the depth of the park. The trees weren't so dense that it was dark, but they were close enough together to offer privacy.
"This is amazing," she exclaimed, near breathless. Without waiting for him to lead the way, she started down the stone path leading further into the park. "How far does it go?"
"It's not all that deep, but when you get to the center the trees drown out the sounds of the traffic, and it's like you've left the city."
Byron followed her, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. There was an easygoing way to how he walked and the posture he held that drew the eye, and when he surpassed her and took the lead, April couldn't help by appreciate it. Something about Byron was different than any other guy, beyond the riches and the attitude. There was something somber and guarded inside of him, and she wanted badly to know what secrets he held.
At the very center of the park was a sitting area. The path swelled to accommodate a few picnic benches, and the other edges were speckled with benches. Byron plopped down upon one of them, arms spread across the top. April didn't wait for an invitation to join him, sitting at a respectful distance and placing her helmet next to her. Even still, Byron turned his head to look at her. His sharp dark eyes bore through her, and at first she thought she'd come too close, but then a smile softened his features.
"You look good tonight," Byron told her. April felt heat rise to her cheeks, and she knew she was blushing. There was no snark in his words, and she was sure he meant them. "I guess I didn't do so bad making sure you had what you needed. If you need anything else, don't hesitate to ask."
"Why are you doing this for me?" April asked at last. She'd already asked so many questions, but so many had gone unanswered. Byron was a mystery, and she wanted to find him out. If she didn't pry, she'd get nowhere. "You're not required to do any of this. We could have had my belongings shipped here; I know the Witness Protection Program can arrange that. You're treating me like a princess, and I don't understand why."
For a long moment Byron did not answer, and April thought he never might. He turned his head away from her and looked up at the sky above. The stars twinkled against the rosy twilight, captivating. When he spoke again, his words were unguarded, and she heard pain in them.
"I know what it's like," he said. Then the walls went back up, and Byron looked to her again. The same pompous, cocky man she'd met in the marshal's office had returned. "Besides, it's well within my right to spoil a beautiful woman if I want to. Don't tell me how to spend my billions, and I won't tell you how to stop complaining about my motorcycles. Deal?"
Billions. Was he worth that much? April felt dizzy. To Byron, buying her a whole new wardrobe and accompanying cosmetics hit him no harder than buying a bag of chips hit her. The idea of that much money was hard to get her head around. Maybe he'd bought the entire loft just for her.
"Yeah. Deal." It was hard to get the words out, and when they did emerge they felt clumsy. Byron found humor in it and shook his head, but when April followed up with her next question, the humor faded. "Do you really think I'm beautiful?"
Not even Eric had called her beautiful, and he'd done just about everything in his power to sway her. Sometimes she'd been cute, sometimes she'd been pretty, but never was she beautiful, and Byron had said it with unmediated conviction.
"I do." And then she was aware of how close he had come. She'd seated herself a respectable distance away, and as they had talked Byron had closed the distance between them. Now his arm was almost wrapped around her shoulder, his dominant presence shaping the sphere of the small world they shared in that instant. April looked up into his eyes, feeling her heart start to beat faster. "And I think you're even more beautiful in person than you are in your picture, Tristan."
When had his face drawn so close to hers? April looked up into Byron's dark, brooding eyes and saw his sincerity and conviction in them; he meant what he said about her.
"When I took on the job, I didn't expect to meet someone like you. Someone so vibrant, inside and out." He whispered now, the words a secret for only them to hear. April was caught up, heart singing and stomach weightless. As he drew closer, all she could think about were his firm lips and how they'd feel against her, and how the scratch of the stubble would feel against her soft skin. Maybe it was fast, but it felt right. Byron had been nicer to her than anyone else had ever been, and he'd made her feel things she'd been too afraid to feel.
April was so caught up that she didn't notice someone else approaching until his voice burst their private bubble.
"Excuse me," a tough, deep greeting. "Is that your bike out by the side of the road? It's illegally parked. I'm going to need you to move it."
April jerked back from Byron to set her eyes on the police officer who'd come to find them. All at once she realized she hadn't been breathing, and she inhaled deeply to try to catch her breath and ground herself. Her pulse raced in her ear, heart in her throat. Had she really been about to kiss Byron?
"Yeah," Byron replied. With one hand on the backrest he pushed himself up from the bench and approached the police officer. "Didn't see any signs telling me not to park it there. I'll move it. Thanks."
"I need to make sure you follow through," the officer said stiffly. He jerked his jump back in the direction they came. "We'll go together."
"Be right back, Tristan," Byron mumbled. He left with the cop to move his bike, leaving her alone beneath the night sky. As they left, April watched. The cop had extensive tattoos rising from his back and up his neck to his nape that peeped out from beneath his uniform, not visible from the front. The sun had set as she'd talked with Byron, and now the park was much darker. Stretching shadows moved in eerie ways as the wind rustled the leaves and branches above. April
cast an uneasy look around and wrapped her arms around herself. How weird that the cop didn't just give him a ticket. How weird that he had visible tattoos. April wasn't up to date on cop dress code, but she felt it was unlikely that it was appropriate for a man in uniform.
"Thought you could run from us?" An unfamiliar voice sneered from the shadows. April jerked her head in its direction, and to her horror she saw three men approaching from behind. One of the men had a tattoo she recognized across his neck — the brand of the Fullrunners, the gang she'd been sent states away to escape.
"Oh my god," April gasped, stumbling up from the path and starting to run for the path Byron had headed down. She didn't get far before someone grabbed her by the wrist, his hold crushing. April cried out and tried to pull away, but the pain increased. It felt like he was going to break her wrist in half.
"You don't get Eric and Ryan arrested and set the rest of us up for jail and just walk away, birdie," the man behind her hissed. He yanked her back against his chest as April screamed again. The two men with him laughed. "Getting your lover and your brother arrested is low. Family doesn't rat on family."
Once more she screamed, desperate for help, but the man clamped his palm over her mouth. April bit down into it deep and without restraint, feeling his flesh part beneath her teeth. The man yelped and pushed her away, but before she could start running again, the roar of an engine burst through the park. Byron had appeared, on his bike, and skidded to a stop beside her. He didn't need to tell April to get on before she'd scrambled up behind him, and they'd ripped back down the path.