Spiraling Deception (16 page)

Damn arrogant, bossy, insufferable man!

Argh…who was I kidding—I wasn’t in any hurry
for our fling to end.

“
So are you going?”
Courtney drew my attention back to our conversation.

“
Yes.” I held my breath,
half expecting her to call me crazy.

“
I just knew something was
going to happen between the two of you.” She released an
earsplitting squeal and I immediately regretted putting the phone
back against my ear. I knew I should’ve switched to loudspeaker.
“Ohmigod Charli, you’re going to Venice with a hot smoking
millionaire!”

I bit my lip, choosing to
not correct her on Roman’s wealth status because…well, firstly, it
wasn’t any of her damn business or anyone else’s, and secondly, the
thought of Roman’s outrageous net worth still made me extremely
uncomfortable. His money had absolutely nothing to do with why I
wanted to spend some more time in his company. Roman was
interesting and intriguing and he made me feel both…adventurous and
fearless at the same time. Aside from being unapologetically
demanding and insufferably presumptuous, Roman Knight was a
charismatically charming man, exceedingly generous, and
surprisingly thoughtful—although I suspected the softer side of his
personality was not something he showed many people very often. And
when he wasn’t being a complete ass, Roman was sweet, his dry wit
made me laugh, and let’s face it—the man was beyond sexy. Roman
Knight was smoking hot and I just…liked
him
.

“
Hmm, well, if you were
anyone else, I’d automatically caution you, tell you to be careful,
blah, blah—the usual. But Charli, you’re the most sensible person I
know, so all I have to say is—have fun, let your hair down for once
in your life, and enjoy the heck out of that sexy stud muffin.
You’ve worked so hard studying for your teaching degree, performing
with the troupe over the last few years and denied yourself a lot
in life—too much, in my opinion—but now it’s your time to have a
little adventure, a little romance. And if you could just lower
that guard of yours enough, maybe let the incredibly hot Mr. Knight
dazzle you, I think it’ll do you a world of good. Besides, you
never know where this might lead—it could be the beginning of some
epic romance.”

Gah!
God, I loved my friend and all her good intentions but I had
to shut this shit down and fast. “I love you, Court, I really do,
but please don’t get the wrong idea here. There is no
more
going to
happen—period! Both Roman and I’ve made it perfectly clear to each
other at the beginning: this is a holiday fling, nothing more.
We’re just two consenting adults, having some fun—no epic love
story. Okay? So, please don’t get any ideas.”

“
So what you’re saying
is—it’s only
sex
between you two and nothing else?” Her words were tinged with
disappointment. I flinched at the disconcerting feeling that rose
within my chest at hearing her summarize my own words.

“
Well, yes, Court, sex and
maybe friendship, I hope.” I frowned as I realized how much I hoped
Roman and I would remain friends when this was over between us.
“Now, has any mail come for me?” I asked, in attempt to change the
subject.

“
Actually, yes. You have
three letters.”

“
Are they small or big
envelopes?”

“
Er…all small ones, I’m
afraid. Sorry, babe,” she said softly.

I heaved a huge sigh—small envelopes usually
meant rejection letters. God, I had to get a job soon. “Okay,
thanks anyway. I’ll see you in four days and give my love to
Jake.”

“
Will do…and Charli,” she
called. “Keep in touch while you’re in Italy, even if it’s only by
text. I want to hear all the juicy details.”

“
I’ll text you every
couple of days to let you know I’m okay but that’s it, you nosy
cow.”

She huffed. “Well, at least bring me home
one of those Venetian masks when you come back. I love those
things.”

“
Will do, Court. Love you.
Bye.” I hung up and threw my phone on the bed but not before noting
it was almost two in the afternoon.

Another day had flown by way too fast again.
After waking late—sometime just after ten in the morning—and
reading the note Roman had left, I dressed and ate a croissant for
breakfast. Then I decided to take a walk and soak up a little of
the Paris atmosphere in the streets that surrounded the hotel. I
headed back around one in the afternoon, had a shower, threw on my
last pair of clean jeans with a fitted lemon-colored long-sleeved
stretchy knit t-shirt and braided my hair to one side. There were
times I really, really loved my long, thick hair, mainly because it
reminded me so much of my mother, but just as equally, there were
times the sheer length and weight of my mane drove me nuts and I
was tempted to get the darn thing cut off. Today was one of those
days. I packed my belongings into the small suitcase and as I
gathered the dress and lingerie Roman had bought me to pack, I
gently caressed the silky material of the oyster pink negligée with
my fingers. Last night, I hadn’t gotten the chance to put it on for
him when we arrived back from dinner—our frenzied sexcapades kind
of got in the way. Followed by our argument regarding Roman’s
sexual extorting techniques, which led to more sexcapades and the
negligée was all but forgotten.

However, now that I’d had sometime on my own
today to think, I was genuinely excited to be going to Venice.
Really—who wouldn’t be over the moon to be going to Italy! And not
only to experience the historic Italian city surrounded by lagoons
and canals but deep down I was excited to be experiencing it with
Roman. And truthfully, there was a small part of me that wasn’t
quite ready for our time together to end yet. The thought was
disconcerting so I decided to implement the “Ostrich Plan,” and not
think about it.

With my small suitcase packed and placed by
the front door, I took one last look around the hotel suite,
appreciating all its grand splendor and elegant opulence. The sound
of the front door to the suite opening startled me and I turned to
see Roman stroll in.

“
Hey.” I unashamedly
stared at his very tall, incredibly handsome, and impeccably
well-dressed form as he approached me.

“
Hey,” he replied, and
then gifted me with a small smile. “You ready?”

I returned his smile with a grin. “If you
mean by ready—am I packed, showered, dressed, and ready to be
whisked away to Venice by the man who unscrupulously blackmailed me
into going to another country by using earth-shattering,
toe-curling sex…then yes.” I tilted my head and grinned wider. “I
think I’m all ready to go.”

One of his eyebrows rose. “Toe-curling?”

“
Really? That’s all you
got from my statement?”

“
Earth-shattering?” His
mouth hitched to one side.

I shook my head. “So damn egotistical.”

“
Perhaps.” He pulled me
into his arms. “But as I have told you before, Princess, I’m a man
who gets what he wants and by any means necessary.” He leaned down
and brushed his lips softly against mine.

Damn arrogant jerk!

When I boarded Roman’s company jet, I took
the same seat I sat in on the flight from Bordeaux to Paris.
Tightly clutched in my hand was my brand new passport and I was
determined to never let it leave my sight again or at least until
I’d safely arrived back on American soil. Although, if my passport
hadn’t been stolen, I wouldn’t have had the last couple of days
with Roman, and I certainly wouldn’t be on my way to Italy with the
gorgeous ass. So I guess in a perverse kind of way, the thief did
me a favor.

“
Welcome back, Mr. Knight.
May I get you a drink, sir?”

Ah…Megan the hostess with the breathy
voice—I’d forgotten about her. Ugh!

“
Yes, a Scotch neat, once
we’ve taken off.” Roman’s tone was brisk and I swung my gaze from
Megan the smiling hostess to him. He frowned, distracted with
something on his phone. My eyes swung back to Megan, noting her
smile had now waned. I almost felt sorry for her. Roman could be
such a rude ass at times.

“
Charlotte,” he said
impatiently, and my gaze swung back to his. God, I felt as if I
were at a tennis match.

“
Huh?” I asked in
confusion.

“
Drink. Would you like a
drink?”

“
Oh…sorry. Yes, umm, a
coffee if it isn’t too much trouble, please.”

“
Of course.” She flashed
another smile but this time it didn’t reach her eyes. Megan turned
on her six-inch heels and walked back to the galley. Those shoes
looked awfully uncomfortable.

My attention turned back to Roman, who was
still reading the screen of his cell. “So…” I wished I could snatch
his phone for a moment. “Do you have meetings to attend in Venice
as well?”

“
No. Thank God.” He threw
his phone on the small table beside him as if the thing annoyed
him.

I rubbed my hands together and tried to
sound like a cartoon villain. “Oh goody, I get to have you all to
myself then.”

His attention finally
settled on me and he studied me for several seconds. Slowly, heat
suffused his gaze. The side of his beautiful mouth hitched wryly to
one side. “I was rather hoping I’d get
you
all to
myself
for the next couple of
days.”

I frowned. “Is there a difference?”

“
Yes, Princess, there is a
nuance of difference.”

I shook my head at his cryptic remark as I
belted my seatbelt. The pilot’s voice sounded through the cabin’s
speakers to announce our imminent departure.

“
So which hotel are we
staying at in Venice?” I asked, as soon as the plane took
off.

“
We’re not staying in a
hotel.” He grinned. “We’re staying on a private yacht.”

We arrived into Venice’s international
airport just as the sun had begun to set: the sky was doused in
vibrant hues of pink and gold. Seth led Roman and me to an awaiting
limousine and ushered us into the back before he placed our luggage
in the trunk and climbed in the front, alongside the limousine’s
driver.

Even though the privacy screen was up, I
still felt as though I needed to whisper the question. “Does Seth
always travel with you?”

“
Yes. Seth, along with
being my driver, oversees both my personal security team as well as
that of Knight Industries. Why do you ask?”

“
Just curious, I guess.” I
shrugged.

Everything about Roman
Knight was most definitely intriguing. “But when you say
security
team
,
you mean you have several men like Seth?”

“
Not exactly like Seth,
but yes I do. Although Seth is extremely good at his job, he does
require a day off occasionally.” His mouth curved sardonically and
I shook my head at him. He really did have a dry sense of
humor.

My gaze shifted to the passing scenery out
the vehicle’s window and I pondered his words. How often was
Roman’s personal safety threatened that he’d require a security
team in the first place? The question was both sobering and more
than a little scary.

The limo pulled up at the Venice Port
Authority, where, according to Roman, the yacht, which was owned by
a friend of his, and where we were to be staying for the next three
days, was docked. Once we were boarded, the yacht was going to
cruise around the lagoon and dock overnight just yards from St.
Mark’s Square on the Grand Canal of Venice.

Seth opened my door and I gave him a smile
as I got out, suddenly appreciative of the man who ensured Roman’s
personal safety. Roman placed a hand to the small of my back and
guided us toward the vessel.

Pompously docked, with small emerald waves
of water lapping at its side, was an enormous luxury yacht. Painted
in a pristine glossy white, the vessel stood proud, almost boastful
in its magnificence against the fading sunset of the Venetian
sky.

“
I’m guessing your
friend…he’s, umm…he’s like you,” I mumbled as Roman dropped his
hand from my back and grasped my right hand in his.

“
Like me?” He peered down
at me in confusion.

I closed my eyes in resignation, and sighed
loudly. “Yes, like you…obscenely rich.”

He chuckled dismissively. “Come on, let’s
get you aboard.” Roman tugged on my hand and led us aboard the
ostentatious monstrosity.