Spiraling Deception (7 page)

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

What the hell did I just do!

Chapter Five

“
Ohmigod Charli, you
missed the best breakfast,” said Courtney.

I wrinkled my nose at her. Ugh! Just the
thought of food made my stomach roll. Absently, I noted her and
Jake’s suitcases were neatly lined up against the wall and I rolled
my case over beside theirs. “Not hungry,” I mumbled as I pulled up
zipper of my pink hoodie.

“
Sheesh, I see someone got
up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. Have a late night
drinking, hmm?”

Her chipper, singsong
voice sounded like nails scraping down a chalkboard. Narrowing my
tired, sore eyes, I gave Courtney my best
don’t mess with me today
glare and
then my focus zoned in on the steaming mug of hot coffee she held
in her hand.

“
Where did you get that
from? I need one stat,” I all but groaned.

“
Henri was kind enough to
get Jake and me one for the road. You want one?”

“
Have we not met? After
all these years, do you not know me by now?”

“
Here.” Jake passed me a
mug as he strolled alongside me. As I snatched the heavenly brew
from his hand, I inhaled its heady aroma as if it was fresh air and
my lungs were starved of oxygen. “I thought you might need one
before we all head off. And a
‘you’re
welcome’
would be nice.”

“
Thank you, Jake. And this
is why I love you.” I gave Jake a quick peck on the cheek before I
took a long sip of the coffee.

“
And no, I’m not hungover,
Court. I just didn’t sleep very well last night.”

“
Was that because you
weren’t alone?” chirped Courtney and I choked on the mouthful of
coffee in my mouth.

Oh for the love of…

I scowled at Courtney. “For your
information, nosy britches, I spent the night all by myself.”

“
Uh huh…” She laughed.
“I’m just messing with you, Charli.” Then she clapped her hands
together in excitement. “Can you believe we’re going to Paris
today?”

Jake threw me a frown before he muttered,
“I’ll just go take our bags outside.”

“
Oh, hang on. I’ll come
with you, babe. I want to take some more photos of the chateau’s
exterior before we leave,” Courtney said to Jake’s retreating form
as she pulled a small digital camera out of her purse.

Yawning, I experienced a small pang of guilt
for not feeling as excited for our Paris adventure as Courtney was,
but I was sleep deprived, cranky, and entirely still flustered from
the previous evening’s encounter with Roman Knight. Instead of
going back up to my room to relax and soak in that magnificent
claw-foot bath, I changed into my pajamas and went straight to bed,
where I proceeded to toss and turn for the better part of the
night.

Every time I closed my eyes, I could feel
those incredibly soft yet firm, unyielding lips of his on mine. The
way his hands possessively roamed over my body—I’d never felt
anything even remotely like that before. Then there were the things
he said to me—arrogant, pretentious, egotistically haughty words
that set my blood boiling every time I replayed them in my head. I
didn’t understand how one person could simultaneously make me so
furiously angry and so incredibly turned on in equal measure—it was
beyond my comprehension. All night I’d berated myself over and over
at the lack of my self-control—I practically threw myself in his
arms and dry humped the man when I kissed him back.

The jerk!

And now I had to endure more of his supreme
jerkiness…all the way to flipping Paris—the one city in the world I
had always dreamed of seeing more than any other since I was ten
years old.

Way to spoil my fun, Roman
Knight.
Angrily, I took another gulp of my
coffee.

“
Charlotte.” An annoyingly
familiar voice called behind me and I closed my eyes to seek divine
patience.
Just a few more
hours
, I chanted to myself even as the
deep, rich cultured tone of his voice of his played havoc with my
senses.

“
Roman.” I smiled sweetly
and turned to face him.

“
Hey,” he said softly,
reaching out and gently grasping my shoulder. The easy smile he
wore faded into a concerned frown. “Are you okay?”

“
Yeah. Just a little tired
this morning.” I tilted my head, curious. The mask of arrogance
from last night was gone and he genuinely appeared to be concerned
for me. It was kind of…sweet. And I noted he looked good this
morning…as in really,
really
good.

Dressed in another three-piece suit—navy
this time—with a pale blue shirt and silver patterned tie, the
colors accentuated the intensity of those sparkling midnight-blue
eyes of his. His dark, wavy hair was damp, probably from a recent
shower, and a little more tousled than it was last night, but that
sexy five o’clock shadow was still there, peppered along his strong
jawline. Idly, I wondered whether he carefully cultivated that
stubble each day. Then my gaze lingered on the outline of his full
mouth; my tongue darted out and unconsciously licked my own
lips.

“
Charlotte.” He growled
low in warning. The sound jerked me from the Roman Knight-induced
trance I was in.

“
It’s Charli,” I snapped
back, shaking my head in an attempt to clear my thoughts. Then,
with a blush, I silently berated myself for being so insanely
attracted to the jerk all over again.

“
Of course, Charli,” he
agreed amicably. “Are you ready to leave?”

“
Umm, yes, I’m all
packed.” I pointed to my case in the corner. “Jake’s already taken
their bags outside and Court’s out there as well. She wanted to get
a few photos of the chateau before she left.”

Roman seemed to quietly absorb what I’d
said, and then gestured with a nod of his head toward the coffee I
held. “And you’ve had breakfast?”

“
Er…no. Just this.” I held
up the precious brew in my hand as proof. When he raised an eyebrow
in response, I felt bizarrely compelled to explain. “I…um…didn’t
sleep too well last night and when I finally fell asleep…well, I
woke up late. I think I missed breakfast.”

Scowling, Roman barked at Henri, whom I
hadn’t realized had joined us in the foyer. “Henri, please call
ahead and instruct the crew to have a selection of breakfast
choices for the flight and in the meantime, could you please fetch
Miss Gilmore a fresh cup of coffee and a croissant to go.”

Tearing my stunned gaze from Roman, I
started to protest. “No, no, that’s okay, Henri. The coffee I have
is—”

Henri had already disappeared toward the
kitchen and out of earshot.

“
That really wasn’t
necessary,” I snapped at Roman, who now glared at me. Geez, first
scowling and now glaring—perhaps he didn’t sleep all that well
either. Nevertheless, I didn’t like his bossy attitude and there
really wasn’t any reason for him to bark at Henri like that. If I
were hungry, I would’ve come down earlier for some
breakfast.

Roman ignored my comment and instead asked
in a brusque tone, “You didn’t sleep well?”

“
No, I didn’t. I tossed
and turned for most of the night,” I confirmed, probably
over-sharing a little too much. He considered for a moment and then
in amazement, I watched, transfixed, as the expression on his
handsome face morphed again. Slowly, his mouth curved into a lazy,
arrogant smirk and his gaze openly roamed my face.

“
Was there something in
particular that kept you awake?” he drawled as he reached out to
tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear. The tips of his fingers
lightly grazed my neck; I tried but failed to suppress a
shiver.

“
The mattress was too
lumpy,” I fibbed, my voice uneven and breathy.

“
Liar,” he whispered back
as he took a step closer to me. The heat from his body radiated out
toward mine and caressed my senses as we each stared at the other,
caught captive in a desire-fueled spell, neither of us willing to
break.

What was it about this man that had me
spiraling in a tailspin every time I was around him?

“
Come, let’s get you and
your friends to Paris.” His tone was tinged with
reluctance.

As he ushered me toward the door, he placed
his palm lightly on the small of my back just like last night, and
just like last night, his touch send a sizzling shiver of
electricity through my spine and I shivered. The smell of his
intoxicatingly spicy, warm aftershave enveloped me as we walked
down the steps and toward the car together.

The drive to the airport was…uncomfortable
to say the least. Firstly, Roman manipulated the seating so I sat
next to him on one bench seat while Courtney and Jake sat across
from us on the other in the back of the spacious limousine.
Secondly, one of Roman’s pant-covered thighs annoyingly pressed up
against my leg during the entire journey. Despite my jeans, I could
still feel the warmth from his body seep into mine and every
inconsequential movement, every minute twitch his strong, muscled
thigh made drove me insane. Surprisingly, you wouldn’t believe how
many times your body is actually jostled while riding in the
backseat of a limo. Childishly, I wanted to get a marker, draw a
line down the middle of the seat and tell Roman to stick to his
damn side.

Thirdly, and definitely
most infuriatingly, as both Roman and Jake casually talked about
some stupid sports team, I endeavored to inconspicuously slide to
the far corner of the seat in an attempt for a little reprieve from
the sensory overload his touch caused but each time, the
jerk
thwarted me. He
very calmly and nonchalantly slid his arm along the back of the
seat until his palm reached the top of my shoulder and with firm
fingers, he pressed against my shoulder blade in silent warning. It
was last fucking night all over again—I could either say something,
which would no doubt cause a scene, or I could grin and bear it
until the vehicle came to a stop.

Doggedly refusing to play along with his
little game of cat and mouse, I ground my teeth together in a
gargantuan effort for patience. Courtney’s bug-eyed expression,
however, told me that Roman’s and my little interaction hadn’t gone
unnoticed.

Half an hour later, the limo finally pulled
to a stop on the tarmac of a small airfield and I sighed in relief.
Through the side window of the vehicle, a gleaming, sleek white
jet, in stark contrast to the grayness of the tarmac, was proudly
parked. A Knight Industries logo was painted in large black bold
font on the side of the jet, and at the base of the lowered
staircase stood a middle-aged man dressed in a pilot uniform.

The driver opened our door and Jake,
Courtney, and Roman filed out. Roman took my hand when it was my
turn.

“
Morning, Mr. Knight,”
greeted the pilot as he approached our little group.

“
Good morning, Phil.
Everything ready?” Roman shook the pilot’s proffered
hand.

“
Yes, sir. She’s all ready
to go.”

“
Good. Phil, this is Miss
Gilmore and her friends, Jake and Courtney.”

Phil shook all our hands and welcomed us
aboard, wishing us a pleasant flight before he veered off and
climbed the stairs of the jet. The limo driver brought our bags
from the trunk and placed them in the cargo hold while Roman
gestured for us to embark the aircraft.

“
Oh my God! This plane is
awesome,” squealed Courtney as she followed me up the stairs and
inside.

Jake lifted his chin in approval. “This is
cool, man.”

Roman’s private jet was more than cool; it
was freaking spectacular and I immediately felt a different kind of
discomfort. Roman Knight was obviously one seriously wealthy man:
the chateau in Bordeaux, the expensive designer clothes he wore,
the limousine and driver—but owning a luxurious jet of this caliber
brought it to a whole other level. The man must be stinking rich
and the realization made me feel both uneasy and apprehensive.

The cabin décor was decidedly masculine with
its myriad blacks, whites, and grays. Dark, plush carpeting
contrasted with the stark white of the high-backed leather seats;
glossy gray-marbled veneered side tables were placed between the
seating groups. Two seats faced each other on either sides of the
aisle closest to the cockpit. Another two seats were in the middle
of the cabin with a three-seat lounge opposite. Two black paneled
doors were at the rear of the plane alongside a small but modern,
well-equipped galley. I wondered whether the paneled doors led to a
bathroom, a bedroom, or both.

Roman followed us up to the front. He
ushered me to the seating on the right and then motioned Jake and
Courtney to the two seats on the left. Small flat-screen
televisions were mounted on either side of the cockpit door and all
the seats were adorned with luxurious black-and-white patterned
throw pillows. After he took his seat, Roman leaned to the side and
I belatedly noticed several electronic buttons, complete with a
phone, mounted on a side panel next to his chair.

Hmm…command central perhaps?

Roman picked up the phone handset as a tall
and very attractive brunette approached and flashed a blinding
white smile. She was dressed in an extremely tight, short black
skirt, killer nude heels, and a crisp white buttoned-down shirt
with black and gold epaulets fixed at the shoulders. A matching
black, white, and gold-checkered scarf was tied around her neck and
I would have said the ensemble would’ve been aviator chic if it
wasn’t for the ample cleavage that spilled from a few too many
buttons she’d left undone. With her blinding smile aimed directly
at Roman, it was flagrantly obvious her uniform attire was a brazen
attempt to snag her boss’s eye.