MOUNTAIN’S CAPTIVE
by
Michelle M. Pillow
Mountain’s Captive © copyright 2004-2010, Michelle M. Pillow
Second Electronic Printing August 2010, The Raven Books
First Electronic Printing August 2004, The Raven Books
Cover art by Natalie Winters, © Copyright 2009
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Published by The Raven Books at Smashbooks
All books copyrighted to the author and may not be resold or given away without written permission from the author, Michelle M. Pillow
This novel is a work of fiction. Any and all characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or events or places is merely coincidence.
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MOUNTAIN’S CAPTIVE
by
Michelle M. Pillow
Dedication:
To Mandy. You Rawk!
Chapter One
“Devon, I’m here.” Chloe Masters looked dazedly around the Las Vegas hotel lobby. The brilliant lights of the strip glared through the hotel’s massive front windows but she hardly noticed through the dark lenses of her designer sunglasses. From her place on the phone booth floor she could see the feet of numerous tourists sauntering past. Not one of them distinguished her as the drunk, miserable woman who crouched in the corner of the small cube. “I made it.”
“What took you so long? Your flight got there four hours ago. I know because I called the airport to check.”
Chloe flinched as Devon Wentworth’s sobering voice boomed out of the phone. Devon had a way of talking too loud when she was agitated.
“Devon, you have to understand. I wanted to enjoy my last night of freedom,” answered Chloe with a slight slur, as she closed her eyes against the overbearingly bright lights that peeked through the edge of her glasses. “I walked around the casinos trying to regain my composure. You wouldn’t have me making a bad impression, would you?”
“Why, what are you wearing?” Devon’s authoritative voice inquired sharply. “Please tell me it’s not sweatpants. I was afraid that you were going to do something like that. That is why I bought you that little white dress.”
“What does it matter?” Chloe snapped in return. “I don’t care what he’s wearing.”
“It matters because this is going to be your new life.” Devon softened her tone before continuing. “Chloe, I went to a lot of trouble arranging this for you, despite what it might do to my reputation if it was found out. I would be scorned out of every prestigious law firm in New York. My career would be over. We have been through this. I can’t change your father’s will.”
“I know, Devon. Believe me, I know. It wouldn’t be his if you could,” Chloe interjected. “You’re a good friend to me.”
“I gave you every chance to back out and you said that you were confident that you wanted to go through with it.” Devon sighed in frustration. Chloe could hear the honking of horns behind her friend’s voice.
“Tell me again,” Chloe paused and gulped, “about him.”
“He’s everything you requested—adequate looking, smart, and by his background check we know him to be loyal and discreet. He also comes from old money, so he won’t have a use for yours. Though I don’t know how much he’s worth exactly. His financial information is well protected.” Devon’s voice cut out. “Damned cellular phones! Chloe are you there?”
“Yeah, I’m here,” Chloe slurred.
“Hmm. The best part is he also agreed to the prenuptial.” Devon’s stout voice vibrated in her hand. She was using her most professional courtroom tone. “You haven’t been drinking, have you? You know you can’t hold your liquor. What will Paul think if you go to him intoxicated?”
“I just had a little on the plane.” Chloe gave a short laugh as she set down her glass of scotch and soda. “And a few in the casinos.”
“Stop. I can hear the ice tinkling in your glass. You’re going to need your wits about you. You don’t want him to think you are a lush and back out, do you? He’s your only chance.”
Chloe moved her head away from the phone to make a childish face at the receiver. She readjusted herself on the floor and blinked heavily when a group of tourists wearing bright yellow jackets passed too close.
“Chloe, are you listening to me?” Devon sighed again in exasperation.
“Yeah, I’m here.” Chloe took another drink, this time crunching on an ice cube as she reached the bottom of the glass. A piece of her wayward blond hair fell over her eyes. As she swatted at it, her watchband got caught in a tangle. “Damn it.”
“Chloe?” Devon’s voice cut out again. “What’d you say? I didn’t hear you.”
“Nothing.”
“Fine,” Devon huffed before lowering her voice and slowing her words. “Now, Chloe, I want you to dial Paul’s room and tell him that you’re there. Then I want you to finish what you went there to do. Ten years will be over before you know it. When it is, you’ll have your freedom back and this nightmare will be over. Until then, maybe you could come to an arrangement with him.”
“Yeah, I know and with the right plastic surgeon I won’t look half bad in ten years.” Chloe set the empty glass on the ground. “I’ll call you tomorrow with the horrible details.”
“Fine. Remember, its room three, five, eight. Got it? 358.” Devon sighed, refusing to dignify her friend’s ill humor with a comment. “Congratulations and good luck.”
“Yeah,” Chloe mumbled against the phone and hung up.
“Yeah, good luck,” she mumbled to herself. Chloe shook her head and hugged her knees to her chest.
She took a deep breath before ambling slowly to her feet. The liquor had taken more of an effect on her then she had realized. She was drunk and didn’t care. Somehow, she knew that it was one of the reasons why she had picked Vegas—free liquor. The other reason was the quick and painless ceremonies offered by the numerous chapels.
Pausing for a moment, she let the numbing effect of the liquor take over her mind. She closed her eyes, wishing that Devon would call her back and tell her she didn’t have to go through with it. But she knew it would never happen, just as she knew that she couldn’t turn back.
Chloe made a beeline through the blur of the crowd to the white courtesy phone. She stared at it, wondering if she should run and get on a flight back to New York. If she did, no one would know of her selfishness. Well, no one but herself. Taking a deep breath, she realized that there was no other choice. She had to do it. There were a lot of people depending on her.
Chloe picked up the phone and held it to her ear. She tried to punch the buttons, but her fingers shook so badly that she dialed the wrong number. Hanging up she cursed. “Come on, Chloe. Three, Five, Eight. Time to be a big girl.”
She picked up the phone and tried again.
“Hello,” an irritated masculine voice answered.
Chloe gasped at the low rumbling sound. Shivers racked her spine as she pulled the phone back to look at it in stunned amazement. Paul sounded nothing like she had imagined. That one word echoed bravely in her head, capturing her voice in her throat. Swallowing over the lump that formed behind her tongue, she breathed heavily and put the receiver to her ear.
“Room service?” the voice questioned sharply.
Chloe closed her eyes as the sound fell over her like a stirring caress. She didn’t know what to say. Her breath came out in uneven pants as she tried to speak. Her body felt like it was on fire.
“Hello?” the voice asked in growing curiosity in response to the nearly obscene breathing. Chloe could almost hear the interested smile in his reverberating tone, as he whispered, “Who’s there?”
“Yes, it’s me. Sorry I’m late. I’m in the lobby now waiting for you. I need you to come down so we can do this.” Closing her eyes to the hollowness that threatened to consume her, she ignored the pleasure she derived from hearing his voice. Chloe swallowed hard. “I’m wearing a white dress.”
She hung up the phone with a decisive clink so she couldn’t back out. Almost falling to the ground in uneasiness, she narrowed her eyes and turned to the elevators. Spotting a waitress passing through the lobby, she absently waved her over and swiped a drink from her tray, not caring what it was.
Downing it in three large gulps, she set the glass back down with a thud. The waitress looked at Chloe in confusion, but smiled when the woman drunkenly threw a fifty-dollar bill on her tray and grabbed another drink.
With a wave of her liquor-laden hand, Chloe dismissed her. But the glass never made it to her lips. Looking across the lobby dimmed by dark sunglasses, she froze.
Gasping, she set the glass down by the phone, untouched. She tugged insecurely at the tightly fitted hem of her short skirt. A disturbingly piercing hazel-green gaze met her from across the crowded hall. She suddenly felt very exposed. Lifting the glasses from her eyes, she winced as the light hit her vision. The sounds of the busy lobby faded completely, as she started toward the closing elevator door. Her heart raced, beating a fearfully erotic rhythm through her veins.
“This can’t be Paul,” she muttered under her panted breath. She suddenly wondered why she didn’t insist on seeing a picture first. “He’s too big.”
Dazedly, her hand moved to the dip of her exposed cleavage. She could feel the rounded tops of her own breasts and quickly pulled her hand away. Unable to stop her feet, she took a hesitant step forward. Cocking her head to the side, she stumbled to a stop and waited for him to come to her.
Paul’s stride was relaxed and sure as he confidently came through the crowd to reach her. He wore a business suit, very appropriate for what they were about. His brown hair was neatly pulled back into a ponytail, falling to his shoulders in soft waves. A smile curled on his lips as his eyes dropped over her in appreciation. His penetrating gaze exuded sexual prowess and intent. Chloe shivered, never having been looked at as if she were about to be devoured.