CHAPTER FOUR
KATE
There were too many things going on in my life, but three came to the forefront and wouldn’t be going away anytime soon.
First was that I was jobless—not because I wanted to be, but because my boss fired me when my ex-boyfriend came in the office and caused a scene, pretty much breaking everything in sight because of his jealousy over my business lunch with a male colleague. Truth be told, the male colleague had actually been trying to ask me out on a date, but we’d been friends for a long time. My boss, however, had had enough of losing too much money due to my absences, and the breaking of stuff had been the last straw. Despite my offer to pay, I was fired on the spot and told never to return.
Second was the ex-boyfriend himself, Kyle James. Kyle and I had been dating for a couple of years, and things had been fine…until he began to grow very possessive and controlling. It started when he wouldn’t let me wear what I wanted to wear and wouldn’t let me go out with office friends. Then it progressed to not being allowed to go out at all unless it was with him. Then the verbal abuse started. He started to insult me and my capabilities, then my looks. I was often called ugly and useless, and we’d end up fighting about it all the time.
And then the physical abuse started.
The first time, I was so shocked, and he was so sorry right after, that I chalked it up to him just having had too much to drink and forgave him right away. But when it happened a second time, I put my foot down and almost got hit once more, right until my older brother Paul walked in on it happening.
I still couldn’t forget how angry Paul looked, like he’d wanted to kill someone—just, kind Paul, who never lifted a hand to anyone. That had pretty much been the clincher for me, and I broke up with Kyle soon after and told him I didn’t want to see him again.
Unfortunately, the feeling wasn’t mutual.
Kyle tried to get me back, resorting to calling me multiple times a day with pleadings and threats, then cornering me to ask me to take him back. I refused each and every time, and even almost a year later when I was over him and trying to move on, he was still at it, with the office thing being his latest escapade. I could say I handled that well, really—but what I didn’t handle well was his so-called “gift” of pictures of me everywhere, meaning he was actually following me day in and day out without my knowledge.
It was sickening. It was the final douse of cold water I needed to realize that I wasn’t safe in Los Angeles, especially with my brother away for the next few months. So I packed my bags, bringing only the essentials.
And now here I was in Florida, where I knew no one and was basically a fish out of water.
The third thing facing me was having to move in with my brother’s college pal, who was now a famous race car driver and offered to house me until I got back on my feet. I remembered Gray—everyone did, considering how popular he was in college even when he had already graduated. He and Paul were both popular for being football athletes and for their antics, and I remembered wondering why he was such a big deal. I met him once during Christmas, but I was too shy to really approach him. Hence I stayed in my room and only got a glimpse of some not-so-friendly hot jock, which I was never attracted to, even as a kid. Now I guess he was a big deal, though I didn’t watch enough television to be bothered to check how much.
Based on the lavishness of the apartment building I was standing in, I must have missed a lot.
The lobby was busy with residents coming and going, as it was early in the morning and they were probably on their way to work. I’d booked the earliest flight, sneaking out of my old apartment like a thief and being frustrated that I couldn’t bring most of my books. But it was for the best. I found myself fidgeting the whole flight and not getting any of the much needed sleep since I hadn’t got any the night before either.
The receptionist was eyeing me and my duffel bag curiously, and I had a feeling he was the type who probably knew the names and apartment numbers of all the residents here. Not wanting to be interrogated at this moment, I nodded my head in his direction and flashed him a bright, charming smile. Then I headed straight for the elevator, my chin up and acting like I belonged here. It must have worked because I wasn’t stopped or called back.
Gray Denton’s unit was located on the top floor, the penthouse and I had to use my key to get the elevator to go there. When the elevator opened, I began to realize that it was the only suite on the door as only one door was available. I inserted the key and opened it right away, determined to get settled as soon as I could and get some rest.
Paul had mentioned his friend was kind of wealthy. But he was wrong.
Gray was really wealthy.
I gaped in awe as my eyes finally took in the apartment suite, which took up the whole top floor and was many times bigger than my old apartment. The kitchen was on the right side, bedrooms on the left…and in the middle was a very spacious living room with plush couches, a gleaming coffee table, fluffy rugs and a state-of-the-art fireplace beside the biggest flat screen television I’d ever seen. Everything was a combination of gray and white, and the kitchen’s granite counter drew everything together. It was the epitome of ultra-modern. God. This place probably cost millions, and suddenly I was wary of being here.
But I didn’t know anyone else in Florida, and I was saving up my money until I could get a new job. Paul said his friend was nice, so…I braced myself and entered.
“Hello? Mr. Denton?”
I paused, then called his name a few more times. When there was no response, I closed the front door and proceeded to knock on all the other room doors, just in case he was sleeping and didn’t actually hear me. But no sound came, and a quick peek at what I assumed was the master’s bedroom determined that it was empty, with the sheets undone. Even the bathrooms were empty. The man was apparently out already.
Because I had the place to myself for a while, I took the time to check all the bedrooms, ooh’ing and aah’ing all over them. The beds were stupendously big and looked so cozy that I would probably sink into them. I decided to take the last bedroom, which was the smallest and by far the coziest. Then I wandered around, taking in everything once more and letting myself absorb the place without being too intimidated.
My family wasn’t poor by any means, but we didn’t live in this kind of luxury, either. I found myself admiring the balcony, which was located right behind the living room and separated by sliding glass doors leading to a spacious wooden deck outside. There was a mini rectangular pool to one side, and a hot tub and barbecue grill on the other. Past the metal and glass railings was a view of the city and the beach, which Florida was famous for.
It was beautiful, really.
I realized that I didn’t even bring a thank you gift for the man, and that was just too inconsiderate. An idea popped into my head, and soon I was rummaging through his fridge. Disappointment coursed through me when I realized most of his stuff was healthy food, but disappointment switched back to excitement when the cupboard gave better results: flour, cornstarch, stacks of chocolate bars and the like.
Perfect.
It didn’t take me long to get the ingredients mixed and ready, and soon I was scooping balls into a tray before I placed it inside the oven. Baking was something I adored doing, as it took my mind off my worries and filled my apartment with the most divine scents. The scent of the chocolate chip cookies baking filled the air now, comforting me. When it was done, I placed the cookies on a cooling rack, delighted that they came out perfect. I cleaned everything in the kitchen up, then looked around once again with a critical eye.
Despite the place’s lavish furniture and modern technology, I could spot messes here and there: clothes strewn beside the couch, magazines stacked hazardously on the coffee table, books aimlessly squished together in the bookshelf. Paul was like this, too, not really the type to pay attention to little details unless it involved his work. Without realizing it, my hands were already on my hair, tying it up in a ponytail before I placed them on my waist. I mentally ran through the list of things that could easily be cleaned up, then nodded my head.
What the heck? I had lots of free time, anyway.
It would be yet another one of my thank-you presents.
*****
Three hours later, the apartment suite was as clean as a whistle and shining brightly. The place was bigger than I estimated, but I simply didn’t want to give up—and so I started in the kitchen and living room, then made my way to the bedrooms until I last got to his. I’d been wary about cleaning his, as most guys were all about the privacy, but I remembered that guys like him probably had housekeeping who did this stuff for them once a week and he probably wouldn’t mind me being a substitute. Besides, most housekeeping services these days only did the minimal.
I decided to take the extra step by changing all the sheets, washing them in his tiny laundry room and vacuuming every rug available until no speck of dust was found.
By the time I was done, I was pretty proud of myself. I was also ridden with sore muscles. A quick, hot shower and a fresh change of clothes fixed that, and I decided to indulge myself by sitting on the couch and browsing through his DVD collection. There was one that caught my eye—that of a video of some of his earlier car races. Deciding I might as well check it out, I popped it in and sat back, watching as the commentator spoke of Gray’s early start when he was fresh out of college and how he’d won his first tournament ever.
Race cars weren’t my thing, but I couldn’t deny the fascination as I watched them race down the race track and the crowd cheering from the stands. Many names I didn’t recognize were mentioned, the so-called “legends” of the sport. Then an announcer shouted Gray winning first place just as a red race car got to the finish line, and a few seconds later a man in a red and black racing attire got out and took out his helmet.
My breath caught in my throat.
The Gray I remembered back in that holiday visit had been a hot jock, but he was forgettable. I realized that was my young mind dismissing him as ‘old’—and now as an adult, I saw him in a different light.
He had black hair. He had dark gray eyes that matched his name and looked like storm clouds ready to spit at you. He was tanned and tall and muscled, and the way he stared at the camera made it clear that he knew how he looked and wasn’t afraid to use it.
Arrogant, but with every right to be.
He was too handsome for his own good.
It was hard to take in at first, but the more I watched, the more I found myself getting used to his looks. Thank goodness, because I couldn’t imagine the embarrassment if I was caught staring at him in awe at our first actual meeting.
Glimpses of more races were shown, along with shots of the man and his every win. Trophies were flashed, and I looked at the shelf I just cleaned up earlier, which were full of said trophies. I shook my head, realizing this man probably had it all—wealth, looks and the women that came along with it. But Paul mentioned that he trusted the guy, and I was going to take his word for it.
Half an hour later, having watched more races, I found myself getting bored…and sleepy. With a yawn, I lay down my head on the couch pillow, figuring I should get a power nap in so I would be better refreshed when I met him later.
I was out like a light in no time.