Spiraling Deception (9 page)

Hours later, after the three of us had
strolled the banks of the Seine, walked the fabled stairs of
Montmartre and meandered around the impressive structure of the Arc
de Triomphe—which, from firsthand experience I could now say, after
climbing over two hundred and eighty steps, absolutely did have the
best panoramic views of Paris—we ended back at the Eiffel Tower as
the sun began to set.

Courtney and I had bought fresh baguettes
filled with ham and local cheeses from a nearby patisserie while
Jake bought a bottle of white wine and some plastic cups at a small
grocery store. We took our goodies and found a nice spot to sit on
the lush grassed area of the Trocadero Gardens and enjoyed a picnic
dinner together in full view of the magnificent Eiffel Tower.

Courtney sighed. “I can’t believe we’re
actually here. Everything is just so perfect.” She leaned back onto
Jake’s chest and he wrapped his arms tightly around her.

“
It’s beyond perfect,” I
murmured in agreement.

It was beyond perfection; not only Paris
itself, but being here and experiencing it all with my two best
friends. And for the second time since we’d arrived in France, I
thought the moment to be bittersweet: here we were, all together in
this magnificently beautiful city and on the threshold to closing
one chapter in our lives and beginning the other. Court and Jake
were getting married and starting a family and I was leaving the
safety and comfort of performing with the troupe and embarking on a
career in teaching.

Jake nudged my shoulder with his. “So,
kiddo, are you really going out to dinner tomorrow with
Knight?”

I tilted my head and studied Jake for a
couple of moments. His question on the surface sounded benign
enough but from the tightness around his eyes, I could tell he was
concerned about me. I gave him a warm smile. “Yeah, I am. Besides,
with me out of the way for a few hours, you two can enjoy a
romantic night out together without me spoiling your fun.”

“
That’s not what I meant—”
Jake began, concern troubling his face.

“
I know what you mean.” I
quickly cut him off. “We’re in Paris, Jake, the most romantic city
in the world. You two should let loose a little and have a night on
the town without me being a third wheel. Before long, this little
one…” I nodded to Courtney’s rounded baby bump. “Will be here and
it’ll be all diapers, bottles, and sleepless nights.”

“
Argh, don’t remind me.”
Courtney groaned and gave her belly an affectionate rub.

“
Charli, that doesn’t mean
you have to go out with some—”

“
Jake,” Courtney warned,
scowling. “Don’t even start with the big brother speech. Roman
likes Charli and from the way she blushes around him, I’d say she
likes him too. This is Paris, after all. I say Charli should
climb—”

I shot daggers at Courtney. “Don’t even
finish that sentence, Court.”

Moving my eyes between both Jake and
Courtney, I gave them a pointed stare. “It’s just dinner, guys.
There’s nothing going on, okay? And the last thing I want to do
right now is to discuss Roman Knight. Come on—look at this amazing
view.” My eyes swept across the park and I silently prayed they’d
let the subject of dinner with Roman drop.

“
Yeah, you keep telling
yourself that, sister,” chimed Courtney, drawing my gaze. She had a
mischievous grin plastered on her face. “I saw the two of you
together last night and
again
this morning while on the plane. There’s
definitely some sizzling chemistry between you two.”

“
What part of
‘I don’t want to talk about Roman Knight’
do you not get, Court?” I snapped. God, I loved
her but there were times when Courtney knew how to press all my
buttons like nobody else.

“
Come on, you two.” Jake
sighed. He rose to his feet, grabbed Courtney’s hand and hauled her
up. “It’s getting late. We should head back to the
hotel.”

I gathered the empty
wrappers and cups from our meal, catching Courtney’s eyes as I
placed the rubbish in the bin. She mouthed an
I’m sorry
, and I mouthed back
It’s okay
and threw her
a wink. I could never stay angry with Court for very
long.

The next day, we again rode the bright red
double-decker bus, this time getting off in the Latin quarter of
Paris located on the left bank of the Seine in the 5th and 6th
arrondissements. The atmosphere was eclectic, with a definite
bohemian flare with its vibrant outdoor cafes, quirky little
boutiques, and trendy bars that seemed to attract a more youthful
patronage.

Stubbornly, I refused to analyze my
attraction to one very hot, but definitely way-out-of-my-league
millionaire further, despite receiving a text message late the
previous night from him. I also decided not to think about the
imminent dinner we had planned for the evening. Today was my last
full day in Paris and I was determined to not let anything spoil
the day.

Nevertheless, the text message I received
from Roman last night was undeniably sweet.

The text read:

* Trust Paris lived up to
all your expectations. Thinking countless thoughts of you,
Princess. R *

The cornucopia of butterflies that fluttered
in my stomach while I’d read the message was entirely disconcerting
and if I were truthful with myself, I would’ve admitted that the
man had me utterly beguiled and totally intrigued.

But I steadfastly stuck to my decision to
avoid any thoughts, honest or otherwise, regarding Roman Knight,
and I completely immersed myself in all things Parisian. Including
spending the afternoon with Courtney, exploring all the fantastic
shops on the Champs-Élysées while Jake took a day cruise along the
river Seine.

“
Chanel,” breathed
Courtney with hushed reverence as we stood on the steps of the
world-renowned fashion brand. “Hurry up and finish that freaking
ice-cream cone, Charli. You don’t walk into Chanel slurping on ice
cream, for God’s sakes,” she hissed and scowled at me impatiently.
The way Courtney had said Chanel with such a profound admiration
had me rolling my eyes.

“
Okay, okay, sheesh! Don’t
get your pearls in a knot, you couture addict.”

An hour later, Courtney decided on a pair of
small Chanel earrings (the only item she could afford in the
expensive boutique) and while they were being gift wrapped, Court
dragged me upstairs to partake of complimentary champagne the eager
French saleswoman offered us in commemoration of Courtney’s
purchase. I happily took pictures of Courtney sipping bubbly while
lounging across a cream velvet chaise in Chanel. Court reciprocated
the celebratory shots when I purchased a small clutch (the only
item I could afford) in Louis Vuitton. What could I say—it was the
Louis Vuitton flagship store in Paris, the bubbly was good, and
although I wasn’t as devout to all things designer like Courtney, I
was a girl and what girl didn’t love her some Louis?

By six o’clock, we finally made it back to
the hotel, loaded with bags of shopping (mostly Courtney’s,
although I caved and bought a few souvenirs for myself) and I was
beginning to get a serious case of the jitters with my impending
dinner date with Roman.

“
Shit, Court, I don’t know
if I should do this.” My voice rose in panic. As I pressed the
button to our floor in the hotel elevator, I turned to Court. “I
think I’m going to text him and cancel. With our flight home in the
morning so early, having an early night would be good.”

“
Oh no you don’t!” she
snapped, her expression stern as she fisted her hands on her hips.
The shopping bags rustled around her.

“
You’re in Paris. It’s
your last night here, Charli, and you are not going to back your
way out of a date with a guy just because you’re anxious. And
especially when that guy is so hot he’d melt an iceberg by just
looking at it. I won’t allow it! Besides, it’s just dinner, not a
lifetime commitment. For Christ’s sakes, go out—have a little fun
for once in your life.”

“
What do you mean ‘once in
my life’? I have fun all the time,” I shot back. My eyes narrowed
into slits. Her words had instantly stung me but I wasn’t a hermit
by any means.

In contrast, Courtney’s brows rose in a
knowing glare as she crossed her arms across her chest. “You may
have fun with me and Jake but when was the last time you let loose
and had some fun with a guy? I can’t even remember the last time
you went on a date.”

She waited and tapped her foot for my reply
while I mulled over her words. When was the last time I went on an
actual date? Sometime during the last year of college I think, but
that was at least fourteen months ago. Oh God. It was official: I’d
become a boring spinster hermit at the age of twenty-five.

“
Oh, for heaven’s sake,
Charli—you’re in Paris, France! And don’t even bother denying you
like the man…and I will repeat…You. Are. In. Freaking. Paris!” She
huffed, losing patience when I hadn’t answered her. She huffed
again…then I huffed.

Fuck it!

Courtney was right. I was
in one of the most beautiful, if not
the
most beautiful city, in the
world—a city I had always wanted to visit since I was a child, a
city I didn’t know when I would come back again to visit—and
despite my colossal attempt to deny it, I was sort of a little
attracted to the man…well, maybe more than just a little…oh hell, I
was totally attracted to the guy.

The memory of those full, firm sexy lips
moving over mine, the explosive heat that emanated from his strong,
masculine hands as they glided over the exposed skin of my back,
and the way those intense, captivating midnight-blue eyes of his
swept over my body with such unconcealed hunger sent a new series
of shivers down my spine. Roman Knight was without a doubt the most
gorgeous man I had ever met in my life.

He was also the most infuriating man I had
ever met. He was overtly suggestive, arrogant, egotistical, bossy,
and manipulative. He was the type of man who wielded incredible
power and commanded utter respect like it was his God-given
birthright.

Nevertheless, his poised confidence,
effortless charisma, and sweet attentiveness was an enticing
turn-on. It wouldn’t hurt to have a meal with him—surely?

“
Oh, all right.” I
humphed.

“
All righty then.”
Courtney grinned. “Now that’s sorted, come to my room. You can
shower there and I’ll do your hair and make-up. I also have the
perfect dress and shoes you can borrow, seeing as the only thing
you apparently packed for this trip were jeans.”

“
No shock there, Court!
You brought like, two whopping suitcases with you.” I ignored her
dig at the lack of my luggage. Inwardly, I was grateful she’d
overpacked for the trip.

“
Oh yeah…and I bet you’re
happy I did now, huh?” Her green eyes twinkled in amusement, as if
she read my thoughts.

Forty-five minutes later, I stood, wearing
only a white fluffy hotel robe, and gathered the pair of black
linen, low-cut dress pants, a tangerine jersey-knit,
figure-hugging, off-the-shoulder blouse, and a pair of four-inch,
pointy sling back patent leather black Jimmy Choo heels—all
belonging to Courtney—and headed back to my room to change for my
date with Roman.

Lucky for me, Courtney and
I shared the same size in clothes and shoes, and once more I was
more than a little appreciative Court had brought so many clothes
on this trip despite my teasing her. I had to give it to my
gorgeous friend: the outfit Courtney lent me was seriously chic,
sophisticated, and totally sexy. When I asked how on earth she’d
planned on wearing the form-fitting pants with a very pregnant
tummy, she produced a square swatch of elastic she called
the
belly extender
.

Courtney also did my make-up all sultry and
curled my hair in big, soft, spiraling curls down my back. Now all
I had to do was dig out my sexiest bra and panties set—not that I
expected to show them to Roman anytime soon—throw on the outfit and
I was ready to go.

As I swiped my hotel
keycard through the electronic mechanism to my room, I pushed the
door open, and took one step forward, only to abruptly stop. A
small gasp left my mouth as I stood frozen in shock at the sight of
my room. It looked like a freaking bomb had gone off: My suitcase,
which had previously been lying neatly on the floor by the French
balcony doors when I’d left this morning, was now up ended and all
my clothes were haphazardly scattered over the floor. The room’s
queen-sized bed was completely stripped, and all the sheets and
pillows crumbled and strewn all over the place and the door to the
closet was ajar…
Oh fuck!

My heartbeat came to a halting stop before
jarringly beating again. I took three steps forward and peered
around the closet door and into the closet. The in-room safe’s door
was flung wide open and it was…empty. I’d placed my passport in the
safe before we left yesterday morning as security while we were out
touring the city.

I ran to the bathroom. Relief flooded my
veins as I saw the antique gold charm bracelet my mother had left
me safe and sound next to my cosmetic bag. It appeared the thief
wasn’t after jewelry, make-up, or clothes—just my fucking passport.
The one thing I needed to get back home with.

As I walked back into the room, I scanned
the room again. My plane ticket and travel documents were still
safe on the bedside table—apparently they weren’t of any value
either. The passport was the only thing stolen.