Spiraling Deception (26 page)

“
Oh look, here’s a card.”
Sam reached into the box. I closed my eyes and held my
breath.

“
Charli?” Sam called
warily. “How do you know Roman Knight?”

“
Umm—”

“
The card says and I
quote:
Princess, something to keep you
warm—other than me, that is. Roman
.”

Defense was always the best offense, so I
pointed to the card. “How do you know that the Roman on the card is
Roman Knight?”

“
Because it’s written on a
fucking Knight Industries card, for God’s sakes.” She flipped the
card over and held it up. “Is there something you want to
tell?”

For the next hour, together we consumed an
entire bottle of red wine while I spilled my guts. I explained
about meeting Roman in France, my passport being stolen and staying
in Paris with Roman at his hotel. I told Sam how I’d agreed to go
to Italy with him and about our time together on the yacht. I also
shared how things ended between us and the fact that even though it
was supposed to be nothing more than a holiday fling, I’d stupidly
fallen for the guy.

Next, I told her all about Roman showing up
at school yesterday, his involvement with my new job and his demand
to have dinner with me Friday night. And lastly, I confessed my
feelings of doubt and reservations concerning his intentions toward
me.

As I spoke, Sam nodded in understanding,
occasionally grimaced, and generally gaped at me with bug eyes.
When I finally finished, she cleared her throat and grabbed both my
hands in hers as if she was going to impart something very
important and she wanted my full attention.

“
Charli, a man like Roman
Knight doesn’t have some casual fling with a woman and when it’s
over and he’s done with her, turns around and pulls some major
strings to get her a job. A job that requires an ex-lover to move
to the same city he lives in. Babe, from what you’re telling me, it
sounds like he might feel something more for you than just some
casual fuck. Have you thought about that?”

I bit my lip and considered her words. She
had a point.

“
No, I haven’t.” I sighed
and gave her hands a quick squeeze before I released them and
reached for my wine glass. “But truthfully, I don’t know if I can
go there, Sam.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, I
understand—it’s a big risk.”

We both contemplated our wine glass in
silence for a few moments.

“
Well, whatever you
decide,” she picked up the wine bottle and refilled our glasses,
“just be careful. I may be new to this city, but even I’ve heard of
the irresistible and sexy Roman Knight. He’s notorious for having
an endless reservoir of tall, leggy brunettes on his arm. If you
can believe what’s on ‘Page Six,’ none of them stick, of course,
but that’s besides the point.”

The image of
Roman’s
reservoir of tall, leggy
brunettes
made the red wine churn in my
stomach and my face must have crumbled because Sam slammed her
glass on the table and reached for my hand.

“
Oh Charli, I’m so sorry.
I didn’t mean—”

“
No, no, I’m okay. I know
you didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just…” I waved her hand away,
picked up the coat and stuffed it back into the box. “I think I’ve
had way too much wine—plus I’m really tired. I think I’ll just head
to bed.”

“
Alright, but let me get
you a bowl of chili first.” Sam jumped off the couch and headed to
the kitchen. “Charli, I’m really sorry if I said something to hurt
your feelings,” she called over her shoulder.

Sam’s pinched features and worried tone made
me feel equally bad and silly for reacting so badly. “No, I’m good,
really, Sam and a bowl of chili would be nice. I’m starving.”

After dinner, I took a
long hot shower and tried to wash the image of
tall, leggy brunettes
hung all over
Roman
out of my head—but it didn’t work. I
was frustrated, confused, and angry and when I’d felt like this in
the past, I’d always hit the aerial ribbon for a workout. Something
about spending hours and hours absorbed within the motion of dance,
until your limbs ached in protest, was so cathartically soul
lifting.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have an aerial
ribbon in the apartment and I hadn’t had the chance to look for a
local gym nearby, so to let out some of the pent-up frustration I
was feeling, I did the next best thing—I texted Roman.

*
Thank you for the coat. It was a thoughtful gesture but I
can’t accept it.
*

Surprisingly, sending the text to Roman
worked. It released some of the tension. And he really had to be
told: buying someone a nine-thousand-dollar coat was not an
acceptable gift.

Exactly three minutes later, my cell chimed
with a new message.

* You’re very welcome and
yes, you can and
will
accept the coat. *

*
No, I really can’t. Besides it’s almost summer—I don’t need a
heavy coat.
*

* Yes it is, but then
comes fall & winter. You’ll need a warmer coat. *

*
What were u thinking!!! $9,000 for a coat!!! Really
Roman???
*

* Wow, that’s a lot of
punctuation! Keep the coat, Princess. More importantly—wear it!
*

*
That’s not a coat, Roman! It’s a down payment for a
house!
*

* Just wear the fucking
coat, Charlotte. I don’t want you cold. Now, I have to go—in a
conference call with London. See you Friday for dinner.
*

Argh!
I rolled over on my stomach and punched my pillow in
frustration.

Friday afternoon rolled
around quickly and with my impending dinner with Roman in a few
hours, I was a bundle of nerves. I tidied my desk and stood to
collect my bag and
the
Coat—
slipping my arm through one sleeve
and then the other. Yes, I wore the coat Roman gave me and I’d worn
it since Wednesday. I’d been crazily referring to it in my head as
the Coat in capital letters.

School was over for the week, and I was
looking forward to my first full weekend in the city. Tomorrow, I
planned to scout out a gym that was close to my neighborhood and do
some grocery shopping and some much-needed laundry. I was running
out of clean clothes to wear. Sunday, I was going to tackle the job
of unpacking the six boxes that had arrived from LA. But first, I
had to get through my date with Roman in one piece. Since our
texting tussle, I hadn’t heard a peep from him and I wondered
whether the dinner was still on.

“
Miss Gilmore!” Piper
burst into the classroom. Piper was one of my adorable little
students; however, the panic-stricken look on her sweet, tiny face
alarmed me.

“
Piper, hey,” I cooed,
bending down to her eye level. “What’s up, sweetheart?” A tear
rolled down her cheek and I swiped it away with my
thumb.

“
I’ve lost Mr. Bumbles and
I can’t find him anywhere.” She started to cry.

“
Okay, well, he can’t have
gone far. Let’s look for him, okay?”

She nodded her head and sniffed back the
tears. I took her hand and we went in search for her stuffed teddy
bear.

We’d found Piper’s bear out in the
playground and after sending her safely on her way, I returned to
the classroom for my bag when my cell rang. Digging it out, I
answered without checking the caller ID.

“
Hey, Princess,” hummed
Roman, and I shivered from the sound of his seductively low voice
through the phone. Damn, the man’s voice alone should be
outlawed.

“
Hey yourself,” I
replied.

“
Dinner reservations at
seven thirty. Make sure you’re wearing something warm,
Charli.”

His bossy tone irked me a little, so I
decided to have some fun. “Tonight? Hmm…I don’t know, Roman. I’ve
already made other plans.”

“
Charlotte,” he growled
and I could hear through the phone the creaking of leather—it
sounded as though he shifted in his chair. The vision of Roman
sitting in his office, dressed in one of his three-piece designer
suits, running his empire and issuing orders to his staff, piqued
my curiosity. I wondered what his office looked like, where in the
city he worked and what his home was like. Did he have any pets? He
didn’t seem the type of person to have a dog.

Up until recently, my whole perception of
Roman was based on our whimsical time together in Europe and not
the real world. But this was reality and I was suddenly very
curious to know everything there was to know about Roman
Knight.

“
Charlotte,” he growled
again.

“
I’m still here and I’ll
make sure to wear something warm. I know, perhaps a coat—a
nine-thousand-dollar coat, in fact.”

He ignored my sarcasm. “Good. I’ll see you
in a couple of hours.”

Before I could say my good-byes, he hung
up.

Sam was still at work when I got home, so I
put my iPod on and turned the music up loud, and drowned all
thoughts from my head along with the sounds of honking cars,
blazing sirens, and construction clanks that made up the melody of
New York City. I showered, blew out my hair and applied some sultry
make-up that made me feel sexy. Then I picked out my best little
black dress, paired it with some black pumps and a little beaded
black clutch that Courtney had given me for my birthday last year.
Lastly, I slid on the Coat that so aptly reminded me that Roman and
I lived in two very different worlds.

“
Fuck
it!
” I grumbled. My brain throbbed from
overthinking every little thing. The least I could do was have
dinner with the man, listen to what he had to say and then make a
decision as to whether it was worth the risk in getting involved
with Roman again. I at least owed him that seeing as he played a
significant role in getting me the interview at Whitfield
Academy.

All breath escaped me when
I opened the door at his knock. The sight of Roman standing in the
doorway to my humble six-floor walk-up apartment in SoHo was a
sight to behold. He was all kinds of delicious: dressed in his
urbane, black three-piece suit, with his dark hair artfully mussed,
and his perfectly sculptured features most likely the envy of every
other man on the planet.
Roman’s trademark
smirk curved his full lips and his eyes twinkled
mischievously.

“
Are you going to invite
me in, Princess?”

My hand released the
doorknob and I stepped back, sweeping my hand toward the
apartment’s interior. “By all means, come in.”

Mesmerized, I watched as
Roman leisurely strolled around and surveyed the tiny apartment. He
looked so large and commanding, but then I noticed the small frown
etched on his forehead. The frown became more pronounced, turning
into a
V
between
his eyes when he’d finished poking his head through the door of my
bedroom. Unexpectedly, I felt self-conscious and a prick of hurt
stung my feelings.

“
Shall we go?” My tone
came out snappy and I grabbed my clutch from the kitchen counter,
checking my keys, cell phone, and money were inside.

“
Charlotte,” he called and
I ignored him. Instead, as I walked into the hallway, I issued an
order over my shoulder for Roman to shut the door behind
him.

His obvious lowly opinion
of my home shouldn’t have bothered me that deeply—so why did I care
so much what Roman thought of my place? It wasn’t as if I were
asking him to sleep the night or move in. My little SoHo apartment
may not be some luxurious fancy hotel suite in Paris or a swanky
yacht docked in Venice, but it was comfortable, clean, and tidy and
definitely rocked the chic industrial design.

Just another reason why it
wouldn’t work between the two of us
, I
thought.

Dinner, of course, was
amazing—the food exceptional, the wine Roman chose superb. The
restaurant, which obviously catered to the city’s affluent
populace, had an intimate and surprisingly earthy quality to it,
with
striking views of Columbus Circle and
Central Park.
Initially, Roman asked me
myriad questions regarding school life, which somewhat put me at
ease, and
despite my belligerent mood at
the beginning of dinner,
the conversation
eventually flowed. He listened happily while I talked about my
students and how adorably sweet they all were. And he even feigned
avid interest when I went on to describe in great detail the
philosophy of Whitfield Academy and the progressive curriculum they
prescribed to.