Spiraling Deception (20 page)

“
That’s it, Princess,” he
whispered against my lips. His words felt like a litany against my
mouth. “Feel it—feel
me…
owning you.”

“
Roman!” I gasped against
his mouth. Every muscle in my body contracted as I spiraled
helplessly over the threshold of euphoria.

Roman’s thrusts became brutally savage;
heavy grunts heaved from his chest as his hands continued to pin my
own in an iron grip to the mattress of the bed. His eyes resolutely
refused to leave mine until he agonizingly groaned out the last
remnant of his own release. Then, releasing his grip on my wrists,
Roman nuzzled his face into the crook of my neck. The warmth of his
breath fanned the tender skin of my collarbone as both our
heartbeats struggled to regain their steady beat.

Running the tips of my nails along the slick
skin of his back, I gladly took all of his weight, savoring the
feel of his much larger body as it pressed me down.

“
W-what was…that?” My
voice was hoarse and barely above a whisper.

His answer was muffled but unmistakably
gruff. “I have no fucking clue.”

A sense of overwhelming fear permeated my
consciousness and I jolted awake. Whatever the feeling was, it had
abruptly wrenched me from the depths of sleep. Rolling over,
automatically my hand reached out in the darkness and swept Roman’s
side of the bed. It was empty and the sheets were stone cold, as if
he’d vacated the bed hours before.

I propped myself up onto my elbows and
swiped the heavy swath of hair from my face to glance around the
dim cabin. Silhouetted in a wingback chair over in the far corner
of the room, Roman sat bent forward; both forearms rested atop his
knees, with only the faint beam of the moon partially lighting his
beautiful features. He was still as a statue, his eyes locked on my
form. By his posture, I’d guess he’d been sitting there for some
time.

“
Hey.” My voice came out
croaky from the residue of sleep. “Is everything okay?”

Ominous moments of silence passed between us
before he finally spoke. “No. Something has come up and I’m needed
in New York. It’s imperative I be there by no later than eleven
tomorrow morning.”

“
Oh…okay. What time is it
now?”

“
Just after two, which
means I need to leave now. With the time difference and flying
time, I should make it back to New York by mid-morning.”

I nodded my head as I threw the covers back.
“Okay then, just give me a few minutes and I can be ready to
leave.”

“
No, Charlotte.” The words
were curt and something in his tone made my body instantly
stiffen.

Belatedly, I noticed Roman was fully
dressed: dark gray woolen slacks, white collared shirt, and beige
sports jacket. His hair was damp as if he had taken a shower
recently and when I glanced around the room, I saw his bag was
packed and placed by the door.

“
I don’t have the time to
accompany you back to Los Angeles and make it to New York on time.
So, I’ve had Seth book you a direct flight home, departing at nine,
and Captain Tom has agreed to give you a lift to the airport first
thing in the morning.”

“
Oh—” My stomached
lurched. “Uh…I’ll umm…walk you out then.” My voice sounded weak and
unsteady; tears pricked the back of my eyes. My thoughts were a
turbulent swirling maelstrom in my head. This was it. I’d known our
time together was short, and after the flight home tomorrow, I’d
figured we’d not see each other again but…this just seemed so wrong
and so…cold—so final.

I hadn’t given too much thought to the end,
but I had at least thought we’d part on more affable terms, perhaps
swap email addresses or something like that. What I hadn’t expected
was for him to ditch me in the middle of the night in a foreign
country with a handful of brusque words when I was barely
awake.

“
No,” he said sharply,
holding a hand up. “Go back to sleep, Charlotte. There’s no need
for you to loose anymore sleep then you already have.”

My body froze, and I was completely
paralyzed as I watched him stand and walk calmly toward me with
both his eyes and features utterly void of any warmth or emotion.
Over the past week, I’d seen Roman impassive many times—it was
pretty much his baseline expression. But his eyes always held a
trace of amusement, a level of intensity, or a shrewd measure of
calculation in them. They were never completely void.

He paused beside the bed, bent low and
placed a quick, chaste kiss on the top of my head. The whole
gesture felt perfunctory and robotic. I squeezed my eyes shut in an
effort to stem the well of tears that threatened to fall as I felt
his lips leave my hair. And then, without so much as another word
spoken, he collected his bag and left.

He just…left.

Went.

Gone.

A sob erupted from my mouth, and before I
could stop the next one, the tears that had filled my eyes flowed
unbidden and freely down my cheeks. In an effort to not be heard by
the crew, I threw myself among the pillows and finally allowed my
body to release the torrent of heart-wrenching sobs I could no
longer hold back.

Roman just leaving me like that hurt—it hurt
like a son-of-a-bitch—and it hurt because I realized in that
moment, somewhere during the past week with him, I had foolishly,
stupidly gone and given the jerk a giant slab of my heart.

Fuck!

How stupid of me!

How so fucking stupid and naïve!

Chapter Thirteen

There was definitely
something to be said for flying first class. From the moment I
arrived at the check-in desk, the airline’s staff greeted me with
zealous enthusiasm. It was all “
Miss
Gilmore this”
and
“Miss Gilmore that”
as they ushered
me into the first class lounge to await my flight back
home.

A glass of champagne was
thrust into my hand by a heavily accented Italian man with a gold
airline nametag that announced him as
Giovanni,
with the word
concierge
neatly printed
below. He shepherded me toward a plush navy blue velvet chair, and
I slumped unceremoniously down, withdrawing my cell from my purse
while I gave assurances to Giovanni the Concierge that I was in no
further need of anything.

I typed out a quick text
to Courtney to let her know where I was and what time my flight
would arrive into LA, adding a “
Could you
please pick me up?
” to the
message.

Her reply back was
immediate.
* Of Course I’ll pick U up. Y U
not flying back with RK??? *

Tingles pricked the backs
of my lids and I inwardly groaned. No, not again. I refused to let
any more stupid tears fall just because I was staring at
his
initials on my
cell.

I quickly texted
back:
* I tell you later. Please just be
there.
*
Then I
turned off my phone and slipped it back into my purse.

True to Roman’s word, Captain Tom had
escorted me to the airport at around six in the morning. My flight
was due to leave Venice for LAX at a quarter past nine. As we drove
away from the mammoth yacht, the sun was beginning to rise and cast
rays of glittering golds and fuchsia over the rippling turquoise
water of the Venice canals. My eyes were swollen and puffy from a
combination of sleep deprivation and the deluge of tears that
unwantedly descended upon Roman’s abrupt departure in the dead of
night. Covering my eyes with a pair of oversized sunglasses
apparently didn’t work, judging by the numerous glances Captain Tom
threw me every three seconds or so. Nevertheless, I kept my chin
held high and plastered a faux smile on my face as I thanked the
kind captain for all his help, managing to mutter a final good-bye
as I made my way into the terminal.

Painful waves of hurt and rejection
continued to assault me as they had all morning since Roman left,
which only served to confuse my emotional state further. It’s not
as if I didn’t know going into this thing with Roman that it was
short-term. After all, it was only intended to be a brief holiday
romance, an opportunity for a little fun and adventure. Real-life
fairy tales didn’t exist, and if by some slim, minute chance they
did exist, then I certainly wasn’t looking for one when I arrived
in France a little over a week ago.

Contrary to the evidence of my actions over
the past week, I, Charli Gilmore, was an independent, level-headed,
practical woman with a somewhat ordered plan mapped out for my
life—one that did not include falling for some complex, enigmatic,
arrogant playboy billionaire, despite how absurdly handsome he
was.

Yes, I did jet off to both Paris and Venice
with an almost virtual stranger, and also happened to have a brief,
albeit passionate affair with said stranger. And although those two
things by their very definition may be considered crazy and
impulsive, I’d assumed I jumped into it with both eyes wide
open.

It wasn’t as if I didn’t understand what was
happening between Roman and me—it was nothing more than a casual
affair. Hell, that’s the whole reason I did it in the first
place.

But Roman’s abrupt emotional withdrawal,
immediately followed by his physical departure, had inexplicably
hurt me more deeply than I could have ever foreseen or imagined.
Unwittingly, sometime during our short time together, I’d foolishly
and stupidly let my guard down and given the unattainable jerk a
small piece of myself.

A self-deprecating laugh bubbled up from
within my chest.

Come on, Charli—listen to yourself!

Falling for a man you just met mere days
ago…ridiculous.

Crazy.

Impossible.

Gah!
I needed to get myself together before I got home and faced
Courtney and Jake. This was a brief holiday fling, nothing more and
nothing less.

So why did it feel like something more?

Because you’re being stupid, that’s why.

Roman Knight was trouble
with a capital
T
and it’s not as though I didn’t spot that from the first time
I laid eyes on his
too
handsome face. Roman Knight was
too
arrogant, way
too
complicated,
too
insanely wealthy and
I’m one hundred percent positive Roman Knight invented the
player’s
handbook. So
why on earth was I beating myself up?

No, what I needed to do now was to don some
big girl panties like Courtney always says, corral those freaking
wayward emotions of mine and move forward with my life as planned.
Besides, what the hell was I thinking anyway? I wasn’t looking for
a relationship. This whole trip was meant to be the grand finale of
one chapter of my life before I began the next chapter. A romantic
relationship wasn’t something I was looking for and it sure as hell
was not something I needed at this point in my life. Finding a
permanent teaching position and focusing on my career was my
number-one priority.

As I downed the glass of champagne, I
glanced around for Giovanni the Concierge. I wonder whether he
would think I was a big ole lush if I asked for another glass.

“
Is this chair taken?” A
throaty male voice drew my attention away from looking for the
concierge and I regarded the tall man who stared at me with an
expectant look on his face.

“
Um…no, it’s
not.”

“
Do you mind?” He gestured
with his hand to the vacant seat beside mine.

“
Sure.” I
smiled.

I watched as he folded himself into the
chair and rested a small satchel between his feet. He was tall,
with dirty blond hair that was past needing a cut, and he had dark
brown eyes. I would have classified him as boyishly handsome if it
wasn’t for a jagged scar that ran down from his temple to his jaw
on the right side of his face. With the scar, he looked menacing.
Dressed in fashionable jeans, a blue buttoned-down shirt, and a
tailored navy coat, his clothes were undoubtedly designer and
expensive. He wore several pieces of gold jewelry, including a gold
and diamond Rolex that sat prominently below the rolled cuff of his
jacket. A strong smell of new leather from his satchel scented the
air and mixed in with the potent aroma of his musky aftershave. He
certainly looked as if he belonged in the first class lounge but
something about him was…off.