The Safe Bet (Hidden Truths #1)(33)
She pursed her lips together, deciding how much to divulge. “Yeah. I got a few texts from him as well.” She retrieved her phone and showed him the messages. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to show him the photos inside the red envelope. “I think he sent me those flowers the other night.”
“Is this the real reason you changed hotels? You were scared?” he asked after viewing the texts.
“Yeah. And there’s more.” She walked over to her purse and reached inside for the envelope. “Here,” she said, handing it to him.
He opened the envelope and removed the photos. “I don’t understand,” he said after looking through the images. “What the hell does this have to do with me?” He grimaced and took a seat on the couch.
“The one of us dancing—turn it over.”
He read the message and looked up at Kate. “There’s no way you’re going back to New York.”
“Of course I’m leaving Charlotte. Are you kidding?” She shut her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.
“Did it ever occur to you that this person wants you back in New York for some Godforsaken reason? Maybe running back to Manhattan would be even less safe than staying. You just don’t know.” He rubbed his hand over his clean-shaven jaw and tossed the photo on the coffee table. “I don’t know why in the hell your stalker is sending you pictures of me with other women, but I do know the situation is out of control.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
“You need a bodyguard until my friend catches the bastard who is following you,” Michael said while lifting his eyes to meet hers. “And you need to cancel your date on Friday.”
“What? No way. I made a commitment . . . for the foundation. I can’t back out now. I will not let some psycho scare me out of doing the right thing,” she said, vehemently shaking her head. “And hell no, I’m not having some bodyguard follow me around—I’m already being followed enough.”
“That part is non-negotiable,” he said as he rose to his feet. “Listen, Kate, I may not know you that well, but like it or not I’m going to help you. I’m not about to let someone hurt you. I won’t let it happen.” His words were stern, but his actions were now gentle. He placed his hands on her arms and slid them down to her wrists.
“Okay, fine. Call a watchdog. Let me know how much he’s charging, and I’ll handle the bill.”
A smile slipped to Michael’s lips. “Go ahead and pack your bags.” He pulled away from her and picked up his phone.
“Why?”
“Because you’ll be staying at my place.”
“Now you’re out of your mind.” She gaped at him.
“Julia’s going back out of town for a few weeks, so you won’t be secure at her place. I can keep you safe. If you’re worried I’ll try to . . . you don’t need to worry about me, okay? I can restrain myself. Just don’t go walking around naked or anything.”
Before Kate had a chance to rebut, Michael was on the phone with the concierge, requesting that the hotel retrieve her luggage and bring the bags down to his car. He collected the photos from her bed during brief lulls in the conversation, and this suited Kate fine. She never wanted to see the pictures again.
She watched Michael move around her hotel room as if she were a bystander, watching a scene unfold. The sheer dread and panic that had caught in her throat when she saw the pictures on her bed had faded, and she felt numb and a bit chagrinned. To think that someone had stood by her bed and watched her sleep, having access to her to do God knew what . . . the thought brought a bubble of pure horror back to her throat. If she didn’t stop the train of what-ifs that were trammeling her mind, she would lose her sanity.
Fortunately, Michael distracted her. He all-but scooped her into his arms and carried her out of the hotel. She slid into his black, Audi R8 Spyder and clasped her hands in her lap. She had been rushed out of her room and to his car so fast that she’d had no time to think. What was she getting herself into? Would she truly be safer with the man around whom she could barely breathe?
Michael ignored Kate’s feeble protests as he zipped down the streets and into the garage of his uptown penthouse. Without uttering a word, he parked, opened the door for Kate, and grabbed her two suitcases. He motioned for her to follow him to a nearby elevator. He punched in a key code—oh, a private elevator—and they jerked upwards.
The doors opened directly into the foyer of his home. Kate entered with caution echoing in every footstep. She looked around, first noticing the high ceilings, wooden beams, and exposed brick. His place screamed uptown New York much more than it did Charlotte, but she liked it. The large living space was decorated in warm, neutral colors with oversized, plush furniture. It was nothing like the modern bachelor pads she’d seen from other rich men, whose décor was cold and simple—all right angles and black and white. The handmade oak coffee table and light brown throw rug in front of the fireplace made her want to curl up with a glass of wine and a good book. God, she wished that was what she could do right now—and not be the protagonist of some thriller movie.
She pushed away her fears and refocused on his loft. “I love the rustic look of the place. I mean it’s modern and all, in terms of the features.” She scanned the sophisticated kitchen, its top-of-the-line appliances. “But it’s also so inviting.” She dropped her purse on the marble countertop in the kitchen before stifling a yawn. She shook her head, surprised that she was already feeling so comfortable, and she leaned against the counter. “This is very different from your office.”