Spiraling Deception (10 page)

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

Chapter Seven

“
This clutch would go
perfectly with… Holy shit! What happened in here?” Courtney
exclaimed. Her eyes darted around at the chaos that presently was
my hotel room.

“
I’ve been robbed.” My
voice came out choked and my chin wobbled. “Someone’s broken into
my room. It must have happened sometime while we were out shopping
today and…this...” Speechless, my gaze forlornly swept the
ransacked space, my possessions strewn all over the
floor.

Shit!

“
Has anything been taken?”
Courtney reached out and stroked her palm soothingly down my
back.

“
Yes, my passport’s
missing.” I pointed to the opened safe.

“
Oh shit!” She cursed.
“Anything else?”

“
No. Nothing else appears
to be taken. Whoever stole my passport threw all my clothes around
the room and messed up the bedding, but all my stuff appears to be
still here, including Mom’s gold charm bracelet and my travel
documents.”

We both stood in silence for several long
moments, trying to process the meaning, until a terrifying thought
pressed into my consciousness. I turned to Courtney,
panic-stricken. “Court, my passport is gone. How the fuck will I be
able to get on the plane home tomorrow morning without my
passport?”

“
Oh fuck, you’re
right!”

I could feel the sting of tears well in my
eyes and when they began to fall, she quickly engulfed me into a
hug. The clothes and shoes she’d lent me were still in my arms as
she gently swayed our bodies from side to side. “Oh hon, it’s going
to be okay. I promise, Charli. We’ll work something out.”

She released me and dabbed at the fallen
tears on my cheeks. “I know—we’ll call the US Embassy and maybe
they can issue you with an emergency passport.”

Breathing deeply in an attempt to stay the
tears, I thought about what she’d said. Of course—a temporary
passport—I think I’d read somewhere the embassy could do something
like that, and a bud of hope unfurled in the pit of my stomach. But
just as quickly as it bloomed, hope withered when I realized my
flight departed at eight in the morning and it was now seven in the
evening. That was only thirteen hours before I was due to board my
flight home. I didn’t know exactly what the embassy opening hours
were but I seriously doubted they were open at this time of night
and the likelihood of having a temporary passport issued to me by
six a.m. in the morning was absolutely zero.

The shrill ringing from the hotel room’s
phone caused both Courtney and I to jump, startled by the piercing
noise.

“
Shit! That will be
Roman.” Panic made my voice almost as shrill as the ringing
phone.

“
You go get dressed and
I’ll get the phone,” Courtney ordered calmly.

“
I can’t go out to dinner
now!” I shrieked back at her. My head frantically moved in jerky
movements from her to the phone to the door and back to Courtney
again.

“
Well, you can’t very well
greet him in a hotel bathrobe, now can you?” she fired back and
yelled. “Go!”

With the pile of clothes and heels still in
my arms, I quickly scooped up some of my underwear from the floor
and ran to the bathroom, slamming the door in my haste. As I
dressed, I could hear Courtney’s muted voice on the phone but she
spoke low and I couldn’t make out her words.

With a deep, calming breath, I smoothed down
the material of my pants and opened the bathroom door, only to
grimace at the sight of Roman Knight in the middle of my hotel
room, surveying the chaos with a detached expression.

He was dressed in black tailored pants and a
soft gray turtleneck sweater, and he looked even more unbelievably
handsome in casual attire than the formal suits I’d seen him wear.
As if sensing my thoughts, Roman turned in my direction; his
appraising gaze swept me from head to toe and back up again.
Forcing myself to inhale another calming breath, I tentatively
stepped out and joined him in the room, momentarily forgetting the
trauma of being robbed, and stared at the unbelievably gorgeous man
scrutinizing me.

“
Charlotte,” he said
softly, frowning with concern. “Are you alright?”

“
No, she’s not!” snapped
Courtney. Frustration clipped her words. “Some asshole has broken
into her room while we were out today.”

Courtney walked over and reached for my
hand, giving it a reassuring touch. “I just called Jake. He’ll be
here in ten, babe.” Then she turned her attention back to Roman.
“Charli’s room was broken into while we were out today. All her
clothes, jewelry, and travel documents are still here but the
asshole stole her fucking passport.”

“
Right,” clipped Roman. He
pulled the cell phone from his pants pocket. “Have either of you
called the hotel manager or the police?”

Courtney and I both looked at each other,
momentarily speechless. Obviously, the thought to call either
hadn’t occurred to either of us. “Er…no, we haven’t called either
of them yet.” I wondered why in the hell I hadn’t thought to do
that first.

“
We only just discovered
the room five minutes ago,” added Courtney.

Roman just stared at Court and me as though
we’d lost our ever-loving minds and were utterly insane.

I bit my lip as the panic rose in me again
and I couldn’t hold back the tear that spilled from the corner of
one eye. “My flight’s at eight tomorrow morning. They’re not going
to let me board without my passport, Roman.”

Inscrutably, he watched the lone tear fall
down my cheek and then tore his gaze away and pressed a button on
the cell, bringing it to his ear. “Seth,” he said brusquely.

“
What are you doing?” I
asked hesitantly as I took a cautious step toward him.

“
Call the police and
report Miss Gilmore’s hotel room has been broken into. Her passport
is missing; however, all her other personal property appears to
still be here. Have the hotel manager come up to Miss Gilmore’s
room immediately.” He ended the call and then started to press
other buttons on his cell.

“
Roman,” I called again
but he held one finger up to silence me. My eyes swung to Courtney
for understanding but she just shrugged at me.

“
Maggie…yes, I know what
time it is but I need you to get a hold of Matt Donavan at the
American Embassy here in Paris. Yes, tonight—tell him I’m calling
in that favor he owes me and I need an appointment for first thing
tomorrow morning. Make it for around nine and text me back when
it’s done. Good…thank you.” Disconnecting, he smoothly pocketed his
phone and stalked toward me. “Pack up your things, Charli. After
the police get here and you’ve filed a report, you’re coming with
me.”

“
Would you stop fucking
arguing with me about this,” growled Roman as he ushered me through
the entrance doors that Seth held for us. I peered up to Seth’s
stony features and rolled my eyes in frustration. Roman’s
driver/bodyguard appeared to ignore us but I knew he heard every
single word of our heated argument all the way from my hotel to the
restaurant.

“
Maybe if
you
would stop
manipulating me,” I snapped back and glared at Roman, “I wouldn’t
feel the need to argue with you.”

It was almost two hours
later, and a lot—and I mean
a
lot—
h
appened in
those two hours.

The hotel manager materialized in my room
within minutes of Roman’s phoning Seth. Needless to say, the hotel
manager was equally shocked and outraged that my room had been
broken into. He went on to apologize profusely, waving his hands
wildly around in the air as only the French can so animatedly
do.

Next, the police arrived and recorded both
mine and Courtney’s statement, which I grudgingly admitted would
have been significantly more difficult with their limited English
and my nonexistent French if not for Roman, who surprisingly spoke
fluent French and thus made the whole process relatively
straightforward. After taking both Roman’s contact details and
mine, they reluctantly informed me that the chance of recovering my
passport or catching the thief was not very good.

At some point during the interview with the
police, Jake showed up, almost out of breath and panting.
Apparently he’d been several blocks away, enjoying a beer and
watching a football game on the television in some local Parisian
sports bar.

Courtney escorted the police out of my room,
while Jake loudly berated the hotel manager with regard to the lack
of security in the hotel, which in turn, had the distraught manager
franticly and somewhat indignantly insisting to all who would
listen to him that this crime was not a normal occurrence at his
fine establishment. The whole thing was a freaking circus and I
pressed my fingers to my temples in an attempt to soothe away the
beginnings of a headache.

Roman remained mostly silent after the
police left and stepped outside of the room to answer a phone call.
A few minutes later, he returned and announced to the room in
general he’d received confirmation of an appointment for me at the
US Embassy in the morning to sort out a new passport.

A sweet rush of relief
flooded every fiber of my being. I sagged against the wall for
approximately two point five seconds, until Roman went on to say
that it would take the embassy up to twenty-four to forty-eight
hours for a temporary emergency passport to be issued. Before my
brain could even begin to process
that
news, Roman then declared I
would be coming with him. Apparently, he had a two-bedroom suite,
one of the rooms unoccupied, and seeing as he was in Paris for two
more days—coincidently the exact amount of time it would take for a
new passport to be issued—it made perfect sense that I’d stay with
him. Generously, he further offered a lift (yes, you guessed it!)
in his private plane back to the US, which coincidently was
scheduled to stop in LA for a fuel stop before flying on to Roman’s
final destination, New York.

This announcement was met with a chorus
of:

“
I don’t fucking think
so!”
—Jake.

“
Ohmigod, you’re a
lifesaver. I think I’m in love with you!”
—Courtney

And lastly, a firm if not
rather loud,
“I don’t think so!”
—me.

Roman, completely unfazed by either Jake’s
or my vehement protests, patiently explained with an air of
authority—not to mention annoying calmness—that his proposal was in
fact the perfect solution to my current dilemma.

Courtney chose this exact time to chime in.
“You know, Charli, it does sound like the perfect solution. The
plane tickets we bought have a non-refundable and no-change policy,
so you’d have to buy another ticket, not to mention the additional
costs of a hotel. And you can’t stay here in this hotel by
yourself—it’s not safe. And both Jake and I wouldn’t feel right
about leaving you alone in Paris.”

“
Speak for yourself,”
grumbled Jake.

“
But…” Courtney threw Jake
a scowl before she continued. “If you’re with Roman, at least I
know you’ll be safe.” Her eyes flickered to the silent, imposing
figure of Roman’s driver/bodyguard, Seth, who stood eerily at the
entrance to my room.

“
You’ve got to be shitting
me, Court,” hissed Jake as he hitched his thumb toward Roman. “We
don’t even know this guy and you want to leave Charli alone with
him? No fucking way. We’ll have to stay with her.”

“
What do you mean we don’t
know him? We’ve stayed in his home, for heaven’s sake, Jake. He’s
not some serial killer. And where do you suppose we’ll get the
money for new plane tickets, huh?” Her hands fisted on her
hips.

“
Okay, that’s enough.” I
sighed wearily. “Please let me just…think for a moment.”

My gaze drifted from Jake to Courtney and
back again. Neither of them was in the financial position to afford
new airline tickets, let alone two more nights’ accommodation in
Paris. Besides, Jake had to get back to the troupe; they were due
to perform again in San Diego by the end of the week and money was
tight enough as it was with a new baby on the way. The last thing
they needed was to throw away money staying here with me while I
sorted this mess out.

My gaze sought out Roman’s next. He stood in
a casual pose: his shoulder leaned against the wall and his legs
crossed at the ankles. Unconcealed mirth twinkled in the depths of
his deep blue eyes as he studied me. Instinctively, I knew Roman
would never harm me—physically I’d be completely safe with him. But
would I be emotionally safe?