Spiraling Deception (17 page)

With three deck levels,
the yacht had to be at least sixty feet long. After being greeted
by the captain, who was a middle-aged, robust, and very tall
Englishmen named Tom, we were then introduced to a further nine
other people who made up the crew of the yacht—which was so adeptly
named the
Conquest
.

If I thought the outside
of the yacht was impressive, it was nothing compared to the inside.
According to Captain Tom, the
Conquest
boasted six bedrooms with a
guest capacity of up to twelve, an infinity pool located at the
stern on the first deck level, a Jacuzzi on the top deck, two
saloons, three lounges, a fully equipped gymnasium, surround-sound
movie theater, and a baby grand piano.

Who needed a freaking baby grand piano on a
boat, for God’s sakes!

“
Holy moly.” I exhaled. My
mouth gaped as I turned in a circle and took in the magnificent
living room of the main deck. Color palettes of rich creams, soft
whites, sage greens, and classical beiges dominated the furnishings
and décor but the art-deco inspired polished oak wood flooring and
intricate wall paneling in hues of bright golds and honeyed
caramels was without question the flamboyantly shining star of the
show. Art-deco inspired artwork also hung on the walls and if I
didn’t see the emerald waters of Venice’s lagoons with my own eyes,
then I would have sworn that I stood in someone’s luxurious home or
even a trendy boutique hotel, not aboard a yacht.

Several crewmembers silently bustled about,
stowing our luggage and preparing the vessel for sailing. A young
woman came into the main lounge; a large platter of food laden with
various cheeses, fruits, and crackers was placed on a table before
she retreated quietly.

Roman gestured to a wide and very
comfortable looking settee. “Have a seat, Princess. Drink?”

“
Just some water
please.”

As Roman handed me a bottle of water, Seth
appeared at the edge of the room. He gave me a friendly wink,
walked toward Roman and whispered something quietly into his ear.
Roman nodded in reply; Seth turned on his heel and left without
another word. I found the whole exchange more than a little
intriguing.

“
Everything alright?” I
noted Roman pulled his cell from the inside pocket of his suit
coat.

He scanned the small screen and then
pocketed the phone. His gaze sought mine. “Everything is good.
Shall we have something to eat?”

I shrugged and turned my focus to the
platter of food. My stomach growled in response. “Why not.”

It was late into the night, well after Roman
and I had devoured the scrumptious pasta dinner the chef had cooked
and served us in the formal dining room. It was after we’d retired
to the top deck salon for a nightcap. Both of us watched on in
silent fascination as the yacht sailed through the lagoons,
navigated its way to the Grand Canal and finally docked mere yards
from the famous St. Mark’s Square. Once the anchor was dropped,
Roman had kissed the top of my head and murmured softly that he
would meet me in bed after he’d spoken to Captain Tom. And it was
after I had briefly gotten lost in my search for the master suite,
found it with the help of a friendly stewardess, washed my face,
moisturized, brushed my teeth and discovered the huge walk-in
closet where all my clothes had been unpacked and hung that I
spotted the exquisitely beautiful long negligée Roman had bought
me.

It had been a long day and although I was
exhausted, the sight of the negligée renewed some of my energy. I
drew the delicate silk and French lace fabric over my body and
returned to the bathroom to brush my hair. As I undid my braid, I
looked around the lavish marbled room: its décor, too, was art-deco
inspired with inlaid intricate patterns in both the Italian marbled
cabinetry and flooring. The theme carried through to the bedroom. I
walked out and plopped myself onto the end of the king-sized bed.
It was difficult to believe people actually lived like this; the
sheer scale of grandeur of the vessel was truly overwhelming.

Obtaining wealth was not something I had
ever aspired to; in truth, the level of wealth Roman and his friend
obviously had made me extremely uncomfortable. No, what I secretly
aspired to—deep down yearned for—was the kind of love and happiness
that my parents had when I was a child. That kind of love no amount
of money could buy. And yet, funny enough, it was also the thing I
feared the most as well. The thought of loving and trusting someone
with all your heart and happiness, and then having them mercilessly
taken away from you, would be soul-destroying. I never ever wanted
to experience that level of pain again in my life. The price was
way too costly to pay.

Besides, true love and happiness—albeit a
wonderfully idyllic concept—in truth, probably only existed for the
minority. Cynical, I know, but I had grown to be a little cynical
when it came to matters of the heart.

Jake and Courtney, however, were among the
lucky few and I could not be happier for them. Maybe after I
finished establishing my own path, cemented my own independence in
this life, I might meet a man one day who I’d love and trust enough
that the risk of opening up my heart and my soul to that man would
be worth the price but for now—both my heart and soul were firmly
locked behind a walled fortress.

“
A penny for your
thoughts?” The sound of Roman’s deep, sexy voice startled me from
my thoughts.

“
Hey.” I threw him a sly
smile and gestured around the room with a wave of my hand. “I don’t
think you need my pennies, Mr. Knight.”

“
No, I don’t but I would
like to know your thoughts, Princess.” Intense inky blue eyes
probed my face and I suppressed a shiver.

“
Hmm…well, a girl has got
to have a little mystery about her.”

“
And you have it in
abundance.” His heated gaze raked my body from head to toe and then
back again. “You look beautiful in silk and lace, Charlotte,” he
murmured. His tone dropped low and husky as his eyes returned back
to my face. His gaze continued to hold mine; neither of us spoke or
moved. I swear, my body temperature rose by ten degrees. The man
was a walking, talking aphrodisiac. Then, just as abruptly as he
entered the room, he turned and strode into the bathroom; I sighed
and threw myself back against the bed.

The man makes me crazy with lust—both an
uncharacteristically and novel experience for me.

Moments later, Roman
returned, shirtless; his tailored dress pants still remained but
sans the belt and—
Holy moly.
I sucked in a breath—
the
top button of his pants was undone. He stopped at the foot of the
bed, bent one knee to part my legs and stepped between them. He
took both my hands in his and tugged me up and into a seated
position on the bed.

With a gruff tone, he ordered, “Stand
up.”

On shaky legs, I obeyed, but deliberately
brushed the front of my body against his chest as I stood, smiling
in satisfaction when I felt him inhale sharply at the contact.

“
Hmm…now this poses a
dilemma,” he murmured. With one step back, he collected himself.
The back of one hand ran teasingly across my shoulder. “When I
originally chose this sexy little garment”—he purred, his eyes
following the movement of his hand before coming back to rest on
mine—“I had in mind to fuck you while you were wearing
it.”

“
And now?” I quirked an
eyebrow tauntingly; however, the slight tremor in my voice belied
the false bravado I was showing. His seductive touch and his carnal
tone perversely aroused every cell in my body and moisture pooled
between my thighs. Every single inch of my body craved to be
touched and caressed by his talented, capable hands—it was as if I
were a musical instrument and he were a concert musician and
tonight was the opening performance.

Roman chuckled darkly. In a slow perusal, he
circled around my body in measured steps, pausing to place several
lingering kisses on my shoulders, neck, and nape, and bunched my
hair in his fist along the way. With each passing brush of his
lips, my skin shivered and my nipples hardened in anticipation. But
I refused to move an inch in fear of breaking the spell.

“
As sexy as this is,
Princess,” he whispered into my ear. His breath elicited more of
those delicious shivers down my neck and along my shoulder. “Your
body is far too beautiful…even to be partially covered.”

Deftly, his fingers slipped under the thin
straps of the slip, leisurely drawing them down over each of my
shoulders until the material pooled at my feet.

Roman moved to stand in front of me. A look
of raw hunger shone darkly in his midnight-blue eyes. “God, I love
your perfect little body,” he rasped, using the fist of my hair he
still held onto to angle my head to the side. Then his tongue
trailed a scorching hot path across my collarbone and up behind the
back of my ear. “So much goddamn hair—so soft, so angelic,” he
murmured as he traced his tongue around the shell of my ear.
“Everything about you is so innocent and perfectly flawless. I want
to mark you, to possess every inch of you.”

“
Roman—” I panted in
protest but his name came out as a plea. His lips, his mouth, his
tongue was driving me fucking insane.

“
Shh.” He silenced me with
a finger to my mouth.

I stared into his beautiful inky eyes,
seeing nothing but sincerity in their depths. My body shivered
again but this time it wasn’t from desire or lust—it was
from…fear.

I took a step back and Roman released his
hold on my hair; his eyes quizzically searched mine. I glanced away
and licked my lips through the haze of emotions that tried to seep
into my consciousness. When that didn’t work, I dropped to my knees
in front of him, blindly reaching for the zipper of his pants in an
aching attempt to physically convey all the passion and desire my
body felt from his touch.

“
Charlotte?” He encircled
the long fingers of both his hands around my wrists.

“
Please, Roman, I need
you,” I begged.

His hands fell away.

“
Alright,
Princess.”

Chapter Eleven

“
Venice, located in the
northeastern area of Italy, is made up of one hundred and eighteen
small islands separated by one hundred and seventy-seven canals and
linked together by over four hundred bridges,” Mario, our private
tour guide, proudly informed us as we climbed over yet another
small bridge.

“
And this is the
world-famous Rialto Bridge.” He waved his hand around in the air
for further emphasis. His expectant smile waited patiently for our
reaction, and indeed the sheer beauty and grandeur of the Grand
Canal, located in the very heart of the four-hundred-year-old city
of Venice, was truly breathtaking.

I was in awe of the colorful city surrounded
by its emerald waters, brightly painted gondolas, chic cafes, and
eclectic mix of open-aired markets and shopping boutiques that sold
a variety of goods from tourist trinkets, fresh produce, handmade
leather goods, and designer fashion.

After breakfast, Roman instructed me to wear
comfortable walking shoes. When I returned to the main deck wearing
said shoes, Roman introduced me to Mario, our private tour guide
for the day. Then the three of us boarded a water taxi to the
Island of Murano, observed a glassblowing demonstration, followed
by a leisurely cruise down the length of the Grand Canal before we
returned back to St. Mark’s Square.

The water taxi was great
fun but the Vaporetto, Venice’s water busses, filled with locals
off to work or shopping, laden with bags of goods as they generally
went about their day-to-day lives, looked like so much more of an
authentic experience that at one point I asked Roman if we could
take one. The disapproving frown on his handsome face was a
resounding no. I guessed Mr. Knight didn’t
do
public transport—the
snob!

Once we were back in the people-populated
and pigeon-infested square, Mario took us through a guided walking
tour of St. Mark’s Basilica and the Doge’s Palace that stood right
next door. The unfurling history, awe-inspiring architecture, and
frenetic ambiance of Venice were incredible to experience
firsthand. I literally went nuts taking hundreds of photos on my
camera.

By mid-afternoon, we said our farewells to
Mario, and then Roman took me to a quaint little café where we had
an alfresco lunch of tasty mushroom risotto cooked with chunks of
pancetta and peas and served with a glass of the local Pinot
Grigio. The meal was divine; the only downside was when Roman and I
got into an argument about who was going to pay the bill.

“
I’m paying for this. It’s
the least I can do as a
thank-you
for bringing me here, Roman,” I snapped irritably
as I pulled my wallet out of my bag.

“
No, you’re not,
Charlotte,” he growled back. His hand slapped over mine.

“
Yes I am,” I insisted,
glaring. “You’ve paid for all the meals so far and the tour I had
in Paris. It’s your friend’s yacht we are staying on and it’s your
plane I’ve been flying in, so paying for one meal is the least I
can do.”

“
And you’re my guest, so
put your fucking money away.”

Our gazes locked in a
standoff—a battle of wills I was determined to win and I thought
I’d been successful when Roman’s eyes shifted from mine to over my
shoulder. A satisfied smirk lifted the edges of his lips and I
looked over my shoulder in the same direction.
Seth.
Fucking Seth stood behind us,
his features stoic behind a pair of aviator sunglasses. His chin
lifted to Roman in silent communication.