10. Wentworth
TEN
Wentworth
WHILE KAIT ATE HER WEIGHT IN FRENCH FRIES AND bacon cheeseburgers, I spent the next several hours on the phone. My first call was to the concierge. Kait’s list in hand, I give him a rundown of everything she needs to make her voluntary imprisonment as bearable as possible. It’s not much. Other than basic toiletries, all she asked for is a replacement pack of the birth control pills she left behind. For one wild moment, I have the unexplainable urge to leave them off. To lie to her and tell her that they can’t be replaced, or that I forgot.
That wild, unexplainable urge goes hand-in-hand with the one I have to hang up the phone, go back into the bedroom where she’s studying for her finals, get her naked and fuck her until she can’t walk. To fill her so full of my cum that it’s running down her legs and soaked into the sheets beneath her. Because for a split second, when she told me she left her birth control pills behind, I wanted her to be pregnant. I wanted to know it was possible. That I’d fucked Kait so hard and so much that I put a baby inside her. Like just about every other feeling I have that’s associated with Kaitlyn Barrett, it made no sense and scared the absolute shit out of me.
I tell myself she’s only twenty. Still in college. Has goals and dreams. That the only reason she’s here, other than the fact that she’s just as addicted to the sex as I am, is that she needed the escape hatch running away with me provided her. That getting her pregnant would trap her—trap us both—in ways that neither of us are ready for.
Even though trapping us both is exactly what that wild, unexplainable part of me wants more than anything.
Taking that choice from her would make you no better than her father and that piece of shit you saved her from—you know that, right?
“Will that be all, sir?” The concierge asks, in a clipped, efficient tone.
“No.” I throw a quick look at the door Kait’s studying behind. “I need a prescription,” I tell him before reading off the name of the birth control pills Kait wrote on her list.
“Consider it done.” He says it like I asked him to bring me a cup of coffee. “Name on the prescription?”
“Make one up.” No matter what I told the driver last night, I know the way hotels work. Maids gossip. Bellmen sell secrets. Chauffeurs tell stories. People know I’m here and they know I’m not alone but I’m going to do everything I can to keep Kaitlyn’s name out of the press for as long as possible.
Instead of arguing that what I’m telling him to do is illegal, the concierge gives me another consider it done. “I’ll have everything on your list delivered as quickly as possible.”
“Thank you,” I say before I hang up. Lifting the receiver almost immediately, I dial the front desk.
“Front desk, this is Dakota. How can I help you?”
“Dakota?” I say my sister’s name like I’ve never heard it before. “Dakota Bravebird?” Neither she or Damien took our father’s last name.
She hesitates for a moment before she answers. “Yes. Is there?—”
“It’s Went,” I say, interrupting her. “Wentworth—your brother.” It’s a stupid thing to say but considering we haven’t spoken to each other in nearly a decade, it feels necessary.
“Holy shit,” she says quietly. “It’s true—you’re really here. I heard that you supposedly rolled in last night but you know how it is. Nobody’s seen you for weeks so suddenly you’re everywhere.”
“Yeah—I’m here,” I tell her, confirming the rumors against my better judgment because I know the first thing she’s going to do is call Damien and ask him what happened. Why I’m here, instead of the Barrett ranch like I’m supposed to be. Even though, logically, I know he’s smart enough to figure out where I went, I don’t want to make finding us easier for her father than it already is. “I didn’t know you worked for the hotel.” It feels like I should, considering she’s my sister and it’s my hotel. Another thing Damien kept to himself.
“I’ve been working summers for the past couple of years. I also waitress a few shifts a week in Mom’s restaurant,” she says before we both fall into an awkward silence. “Is there something you needed?”
“Shit.” I mutter it before swiping a rough hand over my face. “Yeah—a room. Another room. A suite if you have it.”
“Ahhh… okay.” She sounds confused and I don’t blame her. I already have a room. I have a whole fucking floor. “Let me check.” I listen to her tap on the computer for a few seconds before she speaks again. “I have a Mountain King on the nineteenth?—”
“Great,” I tell her before she can finish. “Book it and charge it back to the hotel.”
“Okay…” More keyboard taps before she speaks again. “Name?” When I don’t answer her right away, she tries again. “Went, I need a name for the reservation. I can’t just?—”
“Make one up.” It’s the same thing I said to the concierge when he asked for a name but while he took my direction without question, I know I won’t get so lucky with Dakota.
“ Make one up ?” When I don’t answer her, she sighs. “I don’t?—”
“We do it all the time for high-profile guests,” I remind her quietly.
“What do you need another room for?” What she really wants to ask is who. Who do I need another room for but she doesn’t. Probably because she knows I won’t tell her.
“I have someone staying with me who needs to charge some things to a room and I don’t want anyone to know she’s staying with me.” Keeping Kaitlyn’s whereabouts from her father is one thing but keeping her out of the press is entirely another. Aside from the driver who picked us up last night, the concierge, and now Dakota, no one in the hotel knows Kait is with me and I want to keep it that way until after everything is settled and I can go back to my normal life, such as it is.
“She?” Dakota practically hisses it into the phone. “I swear to gawd —if you’ve got that Lexi Chase bitch up there, I’m going to?—”
“You sound like Silver,” I laugh into the phone, her angry outburst making me feel better for some weird reason. “It’s not Lexi… she’s a friend.” I stumble a bit, trying to find a way to explain Kait without explaining the full extent of our relationship.
Yeah—like you’re gonna marry her and can’t stop thinking about knocking her up?
“A friend?” Dakota repeats, sarcasm and doubt weighing heavy in her tone. “She’s a friend ?”
“Yes, Kota—she’s a friend.” Sighing, I hang my head between my shoulders before rubbing at the back of my neck. “One who needs to go downstairs and buy some new clothes without getting tangled up in my bullshit.”
“Okay,” she says on a sigh that tells me she knows I’m full of shit. A few more muted keystrokes before she speaks again. “The room is reserved under the name Sierra Raintree. Tell your friend she can pick up her room key at the front desk—I can’t wait to meet her.”