Trust Me (70 page)

“Why
do I assume you’ve already made up your mind?”

“Perhaps
because I already have.”

“You
know, this wasn’t what I had in mind when you asked me what I wanted to do,” Sandra teased while they sat at a small sidewalk café, sipping
Americanos
. They ate supper at a little restaurant near the hotel; then walked the fashion district, looking at the windows of the many stores, before settling down at the sidewalk café. The city was alive with tourists and activities, as night quickly approached. The air was clear and smelled of the many nearby bakeries, though the mosquitoes left much to be desired.

“I
thought perhaps we could spend this evening sight-seeing and stay holed up in our room tomorrow,” Creighton said with a seductive smile.

“So
what would you like to see first?” she asked, standing and walking toward the familiar black Mercedes at the end of the block. As they approached; a young man in a pair of black dress pants and crisp white shirt stood up from the driver’s seat, nodding his head to them and handed the keys to Creighton. They spoke momentarily in Italian then Creighton walked around to the passenger side and held the door open for Sandra as the young man walked away.

“So
I take it, we’re going sight-seeing by car?” she asked, sitting down and tucking her legs into the car.

“I
thought we would trade in the minivan for something that didn’t shout family car. Besides, we have reservations and I don’t want to be late.”

“Of
course not,” she laughed as he walked to his side of the car and sat down. “So where are we going?”

“
Santa Maria delle Grazie
,” he said in a tone that radiated simplicity; though Sandra doubted there was anything simple about their reservations. He pulled the car easily into traffic, smiling across the seat to her.

“Why
are we going there and what is it?”

“You
really don’t like surprises, do you?”

“I
love surprises; it’s just that you seem to have an endless supply of them.”

They
drove a short distance in silence then pulled to a halt in front of a large two-tone brown brick building; massive in design and very old in architecture. Sandra stepped out of the car and looked up at the awe-inspiring structure.

“What
is this place?” she asked walking beside her to the front entrance. Two young men stood at the door; whether as guards or greeters, she wasn’t sure. Creighton said something to them in Italian and they nodded, allowing the young couple to enter.

“
Santa Maria delle Grazie
, it is a church and convent built in the mid thirteenth century,” Creighton answered at last as they walked through the doors to the elegant interior; very reminiscent of the era with religious paintings, gold and white decorated ceilings and stained glass windows.

“You
brought me to a convent?” she frowned. “I’m not Catholic and it’s a little late, don’t you think?” Creighton laughed softly, his deep tone echoing around the stone walls.

“I
didn’t bring you to be converted or to leave you as a fallen child,” he teased her. “I wanted you to see something.” They walked through the dimly lit interior, greeted by a tall thin middle-aged monk who nodded to them and spoke with Creighton, again in Italian. He waved a hand toward an adjoining hallway and stepped aside while they descended in the direction he indicated.

“This
place is open for tours during the morning, but with a little persuasion and a rather large donation; we have a private tour,” he told her. “I want you to close your eyes; I have something very special to show you and I don’t want you to spoil the surprise.” Sandra frowned as they stopped near the entrance to a dark hallway.

“Trust
me?” he asked and she drew a deep breath. Two little words and she surrendered to his will. She closed her eyes; feeling his hands around her shoulders.

“I’ll
lead you, just promise not to look until I tell you to open your eyes.” Sandra smiled and allowed him to direct her around a corner then walked straight ahead, listening to the sounds of their shoes against the flagstones.

“Is
this a real church?” she asked, trying to contain her nerves. “I mean, do they hold services and all of that?”

“Yes,
it is a fully functional church.”

“Why
are we here then?”

“Because
of this,” he told her, stopping her with the weight of his hands. “Open your eyes.” Sandra did as ordered and looked up. In front of her was a sight so magnificent that it stole her breath away.

“Is
this the real one?” she asked in a quiet, reverent tone; staring up at the mural painting.

“It
is,” he answered, his voice equally quiet. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

“It’s
magnificent,” she replied. Her eyes widened; taking in every detail of the beautiful artwork of Leonardo Di Vinci’s
Last supper
. It was larger than she had ever imagined, spanning the width and length of the wall; at least twenty-five feet long and fifteen feet high. It was faded with age, but the beauty remained. Sandra took in every detail of the apostles, of the Lord Jesus, of the brush strokes and the faded colors. The term,
a work of art
, seemed far too simple a phrase for the masterpiece in front of them.

“The
priests only allow fifteen minutes to view this, but I think I could spend a lifetime looking at it,” he told her. “There is no possible way of taking this home with us, but if you like we can buy a replica at one of the art shops in town.”

“I
would love to have one,” she said, looking up into his eyes. “You are filled with surprises; first the
Mona Lisa
, now this. If I asked to see the lost city of Atlantis, would you find it for me?”

“I
would not only find it; I would have a statue in your honor erected in the middle of town.” Sandra smiled, tears filling her green eyes as she turned back to the painting, looking at it one last time.

“It’s
a little late, but we can visit the church if you would like?” Sandra shook her head.

“As
wonderful as it sounds, I am really tired. It’s been a very long day.”

“Then
let’s go and let the priest lock up.” He turned and said something to the man who stood behind them, following him toward the main entry. Sandra glanced behind her once more as they walked further away. Of all the wonderful sights he had shown her over the past week, this was the single greatest, next to the Louvre. But she had to wonder if this man was not the true work of art; unique and rare in ways she could never have imagined.

It
was a little after eight o’clock when they pulled away from
Santa Maria delle Grazie
and headed back to their hotel. Creighton and Sandra sat in near silence listening to the soft music of Yanni playing over the satellite radio. Sounds of the city’s nightlife filtered through the windows of the car; lights and music from the bars and clubs filtered out the buildings and into the streets. A young couple stood on a street corner playing their guitars, as passersby tossed coins into their cases. Several cyclists passed by on their way to their evening events, while teenagers laughed and shouted from passing cars. It wasn’t much different than home; just a different language and much larger.

“We
can rent a movie if you’d like,” he said a few minutes later when they neared the hotel. “Or we can go dancing, clubbing; whatever you would like.”

“In
all honesty, I’d rather just take a hot bath and curl up on the sofa beside you.”

“That
sounds like a wonderful evening.”

“You
don’t think it’s too boring, do you?”

“I
haven’t done the nightlife scene in a very long time,” he told her. “I just don’t have a need anymore.”

“So
where have you found your volunteers for this perverted lifestyle of yours?” Creighton pulled up to the front of the hotel; ending their conversation prematurely. He glanced to the large glass doors and frowned.

“We
have company,” he said and she turned to see four men standing near the entrance; cameras flashing.

“Who
are they?” she asked with alarm.

“Reporters.”
The valet hurried to the driver’s side of the car, while Creighton turned to look at her. “Take a deep breath, smile and just follow beside me. Don’t hide from them or it will be worse. Even if they speak English, ignore them and let me answer their questions.” Sandra nodded as her door was opened by a second valet. She drew a deep breath and stepped out of the car, finding herself temporarily blinded by the lights of the cameras flashing in her face. Creighton was at her side in just a few seconds, his hand around her waist as he steered her through the small crowd and into the building.

Creighton
answered the questions in a very relaxed manner, strolling rather casually through the hotel lobby. He stepped up to the counter and retrieved a package the clerk handed him, then continued toward the lifts. Several hotel officials hurried to their side, ushering the reports back out the main entrance as Creighton whispered to Sandra to smile and wave. They entered the lift along with Creighton’s body guard, Harvey, who had appeared when their car arrived, following them inside the building. The doors closed behind them, allowing them to relax against the back of the box.

“Are
there any problems?” Creighton asked Harvey, who shook his head.

“No
sir,” he answered with a heavy British accent. “All is secure. Parker and Clark have done a clean sweep of the rooms and the hotel security has increased their watch on the exits.”

“Excellent,”
Creighton said, turning to Sandra and smiling seductively at her. “We shouldn’t cause you much trouble tomorrow. I think we’re just going to relax in our suite until the plane leaves at four o’clock.”

“I’ll
let Parker and Clark know.”

“Are
you just going to sit around and watch everyone who comes into the hotel?” Sandra asked.

“No
ma’am,” Harvey said with an amused smile.

“They
have rooms here, Sandra,” Creighton said with a soft chuckle. “It only takes one to watch the hotel and they can do that from their suites.”

“Really?
How?”

“Remember,
I told you about the security cameras set up in Kansas? They have access to the hotel’s security system and can monitor what happens from the convenience and comfort of their room.”

“Let
me guess; your company owns the security system in the hotel?” she asked, shaking her head in amusement.

“Sort
of,” he answered, exchanging glances with Harvey.

“Wait
a minute,” she said with wide eyes. “You own the hotel?” Creighton smiled sheepishly to her and nodded. “Is there anything else you care to tell me?” she asked as the doors opened and Harvey stepped out.

“I
love you,” he said with raised eyebrows, causing her to roll her eyes. Harvey opened the door to their suite and stepped aside allowing them to enter.

“I’ll
see you tomorrow, Cray, unless you require something else?”

“No,
everything is great thank you. Have a good evening.”

“You
too.” He turned to Sandra and nodded. “Ma’am.” Creighton shut the door behind them and locked it, before turning back to Sandra.

“He
called you Cray,” she observed, walking into the living room with Creighton.

“I
told you, they are old friends, we went to University together. Parker and Clark joined the military early and school after completing their tour of duty and Harvey followed shortly after; we’ve been friends since. After I was shot, Clark came to me and offered to teach me self-defense. I gave him a job and Harvey and Parker soon joined.”

“I
think that’s wonderful. It’s more like friends guarding you than cops.”

“And
they are paid very well, so they take their jobs seriously and with pride. I’d like to build an outer house at the farm, perhaps a flat above the garage; someplace where security can stay when we’re in Yorks.”

“Don’t
they have families?” she asked, sitting next to him on the settee.

“Parker
and Harvey are a family; partners if you will, Clark is divorced with twin boys. Having them close by would be a good idea, at least until we’re sure the press has had their fill of us and back off.”

“That’s
something we can discuss later down the road.” Sandra was feeling slightly more fatigued than when they arrived

“Agreed,”
he said with a smile. “So, do you want to take a bath, make love, workout, make love, relax in the Jacuzzi, make love, or…. just make love?” Sandra laughed.