"Karl, Mr Agasse is less than pleased," Marton's voice purred at Karl from his cell phone.

He didn't dignify that with a reply, his frown simply got a little deeper and he continued walking.

His silence led to one of Marton's long suffering sighs. "He's the chairman of Banque Labouchere in Geneva, that's a Swiss Bank Karl!"

"I know where Geneva is, tosser!"

"I know you do, I know, I'm sorry. It's just that, as clients go..." Another sigh. "You hit him Karl, have you any idea how much grovelling I had to do? The man was ready to call the police..."

"I'm an escort Marton, I'm not a fucking rent boy!" He didn't wait to hear anymore, just launched the phone into the air. The satisfying smash, as it hit the ground somewhere to his left, helped calm his temper.

He looked around, realised he didn't have the least clue where he was. He'd run out of the hotel and kept walking, straightening his tie, tucking in his shirt, and fastening his jacket, wanting to put as much distance between himself and that creep Agasse as he could, he could still feel that bastards hands on him, pushing him down, trying to...

The familiar sound of a powerful car engine snapped him out of it. He didn't turn, just waited, knowing who the driver was. The car had barely stopped when Marton was out of the door and standing in front of him, dark eyes searching his.

"Want to tell me what happened?"

Karl shook his head. He couldn't, not right now, the memory was too fresh, too painful.

"Did he hurt you Karl?"

He shook his head again and Marton moved closer, large hand cupping his cheek, thumb stroking tenderly over his brow, before he planted a soft kiss on Karl's forehead.

"I didn't know, he came with the very best of references," Marton's hand stroked his back, "if I'd have thought for one second..." The kiss was repeated, softer, nuzzling into his hair. "I'm so sorry Karl."

"Not your fault," he admitted.

"Want me to take you home?"

Karl looked up into the rich brown eyes. "My home or yours?"

"Mine?" the tone was hopeful.

He nodded. "Feet are killing me."

Marton looked down. "Where are your shoes?"

"What do you think I hit Agasse with?"