The Storm

Chapter Four

By Gayforkurt

Summary: David Karofsky, a billionaire who collects beautiful things and people, kidnaps famous countertenor Kurt Hummel and suffers for it. NB: Warnings for faintly dubious consent, some bitchiness and sex. Rated: M

A/N: Feedback is always welcome so please review; it helps to know what I'm doing right or wrong. Thanks, all.

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters; Murphy et al do, unfortunately. I'm just playing with them and plan to return them unharmed.

.

KHDK

.

The following morning, Kurt rolled out of bed and walked over to the glass doors leading to the patio. Once again the sound of the nearby sea attracted him and sparked thoughts of his exact location. As he took in the gently swaying trees on the property, however, he was dismayed to find that it looked as if a storm was coming in soon.

He turned away from the view of overcast skies and a slate-grey sea and hurried to get dressed. He decided on a quick shower instead of a bath and made fast work of his morning skin-care routine. His hair got only a lick-and-a-promise with his fingers before he dashed into the walk-in closet to select his clothes for the day.

Hmmm, he pondered whether he should dress to intimidate or to impress but then decided to go with vacation casual. After all, he should really have been at his own island retreat and he never dressed up there. He didn't see any reason to adjust his plans simply because some cave-dwelling buffoon decided he wanted the pleasure of his company – without asking for it.

Rising ire caused his blue-grey-green eyes to glow and if anyone could have seen the expression that flitted through them, there would have been no doubt as to his frame of mind. Kurt Hummel was on the warpath and as a few agents and former colleagues had discovered, the sweet, angelic façade was just that. He wasn't exactly vicious but years of being bullied as a child and teenager had allowed him to develop a strong sense of self that had enabled him to hold his head high – even in the face of the worst taunts and insults.

Finally dressed, he surveyed the results in the full-length mirrors and nodded in satisfaction. He had teemed simple white corduroys with a boat-necked, blue and white striped top with three-quarter length sleeves. His skin gleamed with health but most striking of all was the color riding high on his cheekbones, a sure indication of his temper. As he slipped his feet into blue and white espadrilles, he turned at the sound of his door opening.

"Good morning, Mr. Hummel, I've come to show you to the breakfast room," a slender young woman, different from the one the day before, smiled cheerily at him. Her dark brown skin was taut over elegant bones and her white teeth gleamed attractively. Kurt couldn't help but smile back and subconsciously he relaxed a little.

"Good morning," he murmured as he moved over towards her. "And your name is…?" His eyebrow rose inquiringly as he passed her and headed out the door. Her light laughter followed him as she shut the door.

"Oh, I'm Petal, but most people just call me 'Pet'," she smiled as she moved ahead of him to show him the way. She glanced back at this guest who couldn't have been much older than she was but who carried himself like royalty. She had heard from the other staff that Mr. Karofsky's guest was a bit of a handful but from what she had just briefly seen, she didn't agree.

"It's nice to meet you, Petal. Do you like working here?" Kurt hadn't meant to just blurt that out but she seemed such an open and happy person, he couldn't reconcile it with her boss's brooding personality and that of the grim, older woman he'd met the night before.

Her happy laughter sparkled in the air and she glanced over her shoulder at him as she led them down one of the many corridors in the huge house. "Of course, I love it here, because the work isn't hard. Besides, my parents and one of my brothers work here, too. What's not to like?"

As they walked, Kurt was busily taking in the beautiful furniture and objets d'art that he saw through open doors and that lined the corridors. The paintings alone probably were worth more than he would ever see in his life, he realized, and he sighed at the unfairness of it all. He could really have enjoyed staying here but for the strange circumstances surrounding his arrival.

Petal slowed as she approached a pair of doors near the end of one corridor and waited for him to come up to her. When he did, she threw them open and stepped aside for him to enter. Kurt drew in a quick, appreciative breath as he took in the décor of the family room. It wasn't immense, as such, but one whole wall seemed to be made of glass and through it one was afforded the most breathtaking view of expansive green lawns sloping down to a pale golden sandy beach and, of course, the sea.

He was blown away by the breathtaking vista and a smile bloomed on his face as he glided into the room, heading slowly towards the glass. Despite the overcast gloom, there was a faint glow to the light and he wished, as he sometimes did, that he could paint, for he would certainly want to capture that panorama in oils for posterity. A light clearing of the throat reminded him that Petal was still standing there, probably waiting to hear what he wanted for breakfast.

As he turned, however, it was not Petal on whom his eyes landed – it was her employer. Kurt glanced around for the young girl but realized she must have been silently dismissed by the man. A man, who, Kurt had to admit, looked nothing like the brooding pianist of the previous night. Kurt lifted his chin and stared him down, waiting for him to speak. He watched as Karofsky's eyes darkened; he was no doubt displeased with Kurt's continuing animosity but Kurt couldn't care less. After all, he was not here of his own free will and he had no intention of pretending otherwise.

"Please, won't you sit? Petal will be back shortly to take your order for breakfast," David informed him evenly, though a slight twitch had appeared in one cheek. He realized again that he would have to hold on to his temper with teeth and nails where this one was concerned, as he seemed determined to make his stay here as unpleasant as possible.

Kurt spun on his heels and headed back towards the door. Before he reached it, David called out, "Where are you going now?"

Kurt didn't slow down but as he reached the door, he spoke, the venom clear in the bell-like tones of his voice. "I don't intend eating with you at any time and I will be leaving shortly." He looked back just in time to see a pained expression cross his 'host's' face and he smirked unpleasantly.

David marched over to him and grabbed his arm in a firm, though not painful, grasp. He hauled Kurt over to one of the matching chairs at the table and planted him abruptly in it. Kurt twisted his arm from his grasp and glared up at him but David only moved to the other side of the already set table and seated himself.

He looked steadily at Kurt and even though the sight of the diva's flushed face and brilliant eyes did marvelous things to his libido, right now he had to make him understand one thing. He narrowed his eyes at Kurt and leaned forward menacingly.

"Let me be clear. You will be taking every meal with me and you will appear on time, every time. Whether you eat or not is up to you. Do you understand me?" He waited as Kurt glared at him, his mouth in a sneer, yet, when he finally spoke, his beautiful voice was cool and distant.

"Have you taken your medications this morning?"

"!"

"I assume you must be taking something for schizophrenia," Kurt smirked at the stunned look in his abductor's eyes. He had no qualms about taunting the man; maybe if he made his time here unpleasant enough, he would return him to his own home quickly.

David's eyes closed briefly and when they reopened he looked away from Kurt. Without responding, he rose, walked over to a beautiful mahogany sideboard and tugged at a tasseled cord. In minutes, Petal came bouncing through the door, her sunny smile in place. David returned the smile and spoke, his voice relaxed and the tone fond.

"Yes, Petal, we're ready to order. Take Mr. Hummel's first," he nodded towards the still glaring younger man and Petal turned towards Kurt, her smile fading a little.

Kurt, however, smiled pleasantly at Petal. "Hi, again," he waited for her flagging smile to return in full before continuing. "I would like…" and he launched into a recitation of almost every breakfast food item he could think of. He almost laughed at the stunned look on her face as her little pencil raced over the small note pad she had brought back.

David, on his part, swallowed any comment he would have made as he had an idea what Kurt was about. When Kurt had finished with a pointed little smirk thrown in his direction, David only said, "My usual, please, Petal; thank you."

The young woman looked a little dazed as she nodded and almost stumbled out of the room, all the while staring in awe at Kurt's order. David let out a little sigh as he turned towards Kurt but before he moved back to the table, he poured two glasses from a carafe of bright yellow juice and brought one to place before the temperamental singer. Kurt accepted the glass without even a 'thank you'.

David moved to his own seat, took a sip of the delicious, freshly-squeezed orange juice and asked, "Why?"

Kurt, however, only took small sips from his glass and refused to even look towards David. It was as if he'd withdrawn into himself and only his body was present in the beautifully appointed room. A faint humming sound came from him but, other than that, David could have been sitting at table with a beautiful automaton.

Dave continued to watch the young man who had stolen his heart and sighed again. Truly, this was turning into a monumental disaster. Not only was Kurt furious about the situation, he really seemed to hate him and Dave had not even considered that as a possible outcome. He had thought that, after explaining rationally and passionately why he'd done what might have seemed such a crazy thing and apologizing, Kurt would have been able to forgive him, laugh it off, whatever. He had not envisaged a scenario where Kurt would have loathed him upon first sight.

In fact, the idea to 'abduct' Kurt had not even been original to Dave. He had read a couple of years before that some friends of Kurt's had done just such a thing and the singer had laughed about it to the reporters who'd gotten wind afterwards of the friendly prank. Apparently Kurt had confided to a colleague and close friend that he'd been interested in a particular celebrity but felt he had no chance to be with the man, a famous actor. He had so annoyed his friends with his dream scenarios about what he'd do if he ever met so-and-so and they fell in love, that a few of them had taken it upon themselves to approach the actor. Fortunately, it had turned out that the actor was more than interested and he joined in on planning the 'abduction'.

It had all turned out quite romantically and the two had been inseparable, at least for a few months. Celebrity affairs rarely lasted for very long, apparently, but David had read the article over and over and eventually hatched this scheme. He had had no idea that the fascinating face that smiled so serenely from countless magazine pages hid such a daunting personality. He shook his head at his own stupidity and continued to sip at his juice.

Eventually, sounds of several pairs of footsteps could be heard and he looked up as a young man in a white coat and dark pants opened the doors and stood aside. A small army of waiters marched in, each loaded with covered trays which they arranged on the table between David and his 'guest'.

Dave watched as they proceeded to remove the covers of each platter to reveal a stunning array of breakfast foods, the aroma making Dave's stomach growl. He glanced at Kurt, expecting to at least see pleasure on the younger man's face, but the diva only nodded politely at the young men and thanked them.

Not waiting for his 'host' to say anything, Kurt scooped some fluffy scrambled eggs onto his plate, added one strip of perfectly cooked bacon and a slice of golden brown toast and started eating. One of the servers came over to him with a beautiful silver carafe with steaming coffee and poured some into Kurt's cup.

Dave sighed for the third time and helped himself to his own breakfast of oatmeal, toast and fruit. He never ate heavily in the mornings and even though the table was almost groaning under the weight of all the food Kurt had ordered, he was not tempted to have anything more. Both men ate in silence, the only sound the clinking of cutlery and the chink of coffee cups being returned to their saucers.

Both men finished eating at the same time and Dave couldn't resist asking the question that he had been dying to ask. "Why order so much if you were only going to eat so little?"

Once again, Kurt ignored his query and Dave finally had enough. Throwing down the fine linen napkin onto the table, he surged to his feet and stormed over to Kurt. The singer didn't even flinch or even acknowledge David, but removed his own napkin sedately… and waited.

Once again Dave found himself grasping Kurt's arm but this time he hauled him up out of the chair and close to his body. He frowned down into a coolly bland face that gazed back at him and informed the diva: "If that is all you want to eat, that is all you will get." He threw Kurt's arm away from him and marched over to the doors, pulling them open so violently they banged against the walls before swinging back.

.

KHDK

.

No one had ever made him so mad, so often, and Dave despaired over ever reaching beneath the singer's icy exterior to that warm core he just knew existed. He couldn't sing so beautifully, so passionately, if there was nothing there but ice, Dave reasoned to himself. As he headed to his office, the tightness in his chest loosened but the despair remained.

Truly, this had been a foul-up of monumental proportions and, for the first time in his life, he wished he had had someone who would have slapped him upside the head and talked him out of it. He entered his private office, stared at the oil painting of his parents and shook his head ruefully. His dad, for one, if he had been privy to Dave's plans, would definitely have called it bone-headed.

He sat at his desk, spun his chair around to gaze out the French windows at the increasingly bad weather, and made up his mind. Turning back around, he pressed a button and waited. Ten minutes later, his driver and accomplice entered the office in his usual silent, stealthy way. Dave smiled at Puck and waited for him to sit.

Noah Puckerman sat silent and observant as he waited for Dave's orders. He had heard in the kitchens about Kurt's outrageous behavior and had guessed that his boss, and maybe friend, would be in a state when he called for him. He'd had his doubts about the plan when David had first brought it up, but he had seen that the man was obsessed with this singer. Puck, as his friends called him, couldn't see the attraction himself. To him, Kurt was just another singer who had been blessed with extraordinary talent, yes, but he felt that most of these so-called celebrities had lost touch with reality. In some instances he felt they'd left their roots behind and behaved as if they were entitled to have everything their own way. Certainly the paparazzi and the fans made them feel as if they were gods and he'd been dismayed to find out his own boss, a normally sensible individual, had succumbed and become a victim of the 'cult of personality'.

Now here he was, defeated almost at the start of this game, by a willowy, pale-skinned brat who sang like a woman and was as temperamental as any of them on the rag. Puck thought his boss should either return the singer to his apartment or just fuck him. Either way, he needed to do something; Puck, as a man of action, was getting a little frustrated with his hitherto ruthless employer.

Dave fiddled with his pen and spoke in his characteristically quiet tone. "I think I screwed up this time." Now that he'd said it out loud, some of the tension seeped from his shoulders. "When this storm blows over, take him back. I don't want him here again."

Puck nodded, but then he shrugged. "The reports say this system probably won't sit on us for long; at least a day, maybe two, they said."

Dave leaned back and sighed. "Well, at least this house is big enough so we won't have to run into each other too often." He looked at Puck, knowing from the slight smirk at the corner of his mouth that he was, in essence saying: "I told you so." Puck hadn't actually said the words, but the skeptical expression on his face when he'd first outlined his plan was clear enough.

Now, Puck slapped his hands on the arms of the chair, and gazed at his employer… and friend. "Wanna go spar?"

Dave smiled and jumped up. "Yeah, why not?" This was one of the ways he'd found to relieve some of his tension – working out or sparring with a well-matched opponent. Puck, with his former military training, could go head to head with him in the gym and he was Puck's favorite workout partner as well.

Having decided to return Kurt as soon as possible, the tension had eased in his body. He smiled as he followed his driver out of the office and slapped him on the shoulder. Puck glanced over at him and grinned back, glad that the brooding had been averted for at least a little while. He would try to distract Dave with a seriously rough workout, hoping that if he was exhausted he wouldn't have the energy to pine after the little bitch that Hummel was turning out to be.

As they walked, Puck smiled in satisfaction. Maybe Dave would come out of all this unscathed; that was his fervent hope, and he would try his damnedest to make it happen. A thought occurred to him and he made a decision to put his plan into motion as soon as they finished with the workout from hell.

The two men continued down the corridor, laughing and bantering, unaware that a pair of cold, aquamarine eyes was watching them. Soft pink lips tightened as Kurt observed the easy body language between the two large men and just like that, he knew what he had to do.

.

TBC