Read Online Spiraling Deception by Noree Kahika - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Noree Kahika
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I’m taking you to dinner,
Princess—alone.”
He sat back in the chair but those beautiful
midnight-blue eyes continued to stare steadfastly on mine, both
challenging and enthralling me at the same time. Then his lips
twitched ever so slightly, as if a pleasant thought suddenly
occurred to him. “Besides, by accompanying me to dinner, you’d be
giving the two lovebirds over there”—he nodded toward Jake and
Courtney, and my gaze followed, observing the two making goo-goo
eyes at each other—“some alone time to enjoy a romantic evening
together before they leave. Correct?”
Damn!
The man could also add “master manipulator”
to his long list of attributes.
I had already decided to find a way to give
Courtney and Jake some alone time together while we were in Paris,
especially when I knew in a few short months from now, romantic
time would be practically nonexistent with a newborn.
My gaze swung back to Roman, who had his
brows raised in expectation. Little did he know, I’d already made
up my mind to accept his dinner invitation several moments ago; I
was just letting him to work for it.
“ Sure…why not?” I conceded
flippantly, noting smugly that he looked mildly surprised by my
easy acceptance. Before he could say anything else, Miss Sex Kitten
came waltzing down the aisle, silver tray in hand, laden with four
white ceramic coffee cups with a Knight Industries logo written in
black script on them and filled to the brim with delicious smelling
coffee. She also had a plate of French pastries and an assortment
of berries and melons. My mouth watered at the sight.
“ Here you are, sir,” Megan
purred. She bent so low that her ample cleavage was all I could see
as she placed his coffee cup down on the side table. To Roman’s
credit, he didn’t appear to notice.
Next, she placed down my coffee and the
assortment of fruit. Her tone was notably cooler when she said my
name. “Miss Gilmore.”
My answering scowl only served to make me
feel silly and immature, so I picked up my coffee and took a sip,
catching Roman’s gaze as I swallowed.
“ She’s not even in the
same league,” he whispered and then gifted me with a wink. His
attention then moved to the vibrating cell on the table.
Chapter Six
Once we landed in Paris, Roman and I
exchanged phone numbers, along with the address of my hotel and a
time for him to pick me up the next evening for our dinner date
(seven o’clock sharp, he informed me with succinctness), and then
Jake, Courtney, and I were whisked away in another shiny black
limousine to our hotel, courtesy of Roman.
I watched from the vehicle’s rear window as
Roman gracefully enfolded himself into the backseat of a sleek
Mercedes town car as the very muscular, if not a little scary, man
who Roman briefly introduced us all to as Seth, his personal
driver, closed the door behind him.
Seth appeared to be in his
mid-thirties with a blond buzz-styled military haircut, dark brown
eyes that openly warned don’t mess with
me and a wicked-looking scar that ran down
the left side of his cheek. Yikes!
With a slight nod of his head and a terse
grunt of acknowledgment, Seth said nothing further to the three of
us. My eyes bugged when I caught sight of the head of what appeared
to be an intricate snake tattoo peeking out from the collar of his
shirt when he turned to retrieve my bag from the aircraft. I had a
suspicion Seth was more than Roman’s personal driver—a congenial,
cap-wearing chauffeur Seth was not.
Roman had offered an apology at having to
leave so abruptly; his first meeting for the day was located in the
opposite direction of our hotel and thus the reason for the two
vehicles that awaited us upon landing at the small private
airfield. Of course, Roman’s thoughtful gesture by arranging a
vehicle to transport us to the hotel prompted Courtney to wax on
and on and on all the way to our hotel. She gushed with how
thoughtful he was, how good-looking, how accomplished,
Princess—alone.”
He sat back in the chair but those beautiful
midnight-blue eyes continued to stare steadfastly on mine, both
challenging and enthralling me at the same time. Then his lips
twitched ever so slightly, as if a pleasant thought suddenly
occurred to him. “Besides, by accompanying me to dinner, you’d be
giving the two lovebirds over there”—he nodded toward Jake and
Courtney, and my gaze followed, observing the two making goo-goo
eyes at each other—“some alone time to enjoy a romantic evening
together before they leave. Correct?”
Damn!
The man could also add “master manipulator”
to his long list of attributes.
I had already decided to find a way to give
Courtney and Jake some alone time together while we were in Paris,
especially when I knew in a few short months from now, romantic
time would be practically nonexistent with a newborn.
My gaze swung back to Roman, who had his
brows raised in expectation. Little did he know, I’d already made
up my mind to accept his dinner invitation several moments ago; I
was just letting him to work for it.
“ Sure…why not?” I conceded
flippantly, noting smugly that he looked mildly surprised by my
easy acceptance. Before he could say anything else, Miss Sex Kitten
came waltzing down the aisle, silver tray in hand, laden with four
white ceramic coffee cups with a Knight Industries logo written in
black script on them and filled to the brim with delicious smelling
coffee. She also had a plate of French pastries and an assortment
of berries and melons. My mouth watered at the sight.
“ Here you are, sir,” Megan
purred. She bent so low that her ample cleavage was all I could see
as she placed his coffee cup down on the side table. To Roman’s
credit, he didn’t appear to notice.
Next, she placed down my coffee and the
assortment of fruit. Her tone was notably cooler when she said my
name. “Miss Gilmore.”
My answering scowl only served to make me
feel silly and immature, so I picked up my coffee and took a sip,
catching Roman’s gaze as I swallowed.
“ She’s not even in the
same league,” he whispered and then gifted me with a wink. His
attention then moved to the vibrating cell on the table.
Chapter Six
Once we landed in Paris, Roman and I
exchanged phone numbers, along with the address of my hotel and a
time for him to pick me up the next evening for our dinner date
(seven o’clock sharp, he informed me with succinctness), and then
Jake, Courtney, and I were whisked away in another shiny black
limousine to our hotel, courtesy of Roman.
I watched from the vehicle’s rear window as
Roman gracefully enfolded himself into the backseat of a sleek
Mercedes town car as the very muscular, if not a little scary, man
who Roman briefly introduced us all to as Seth, his personal
driver, closed the door behind him.
Seth appeared to be in his
mid-thirties with a blond buzz-styled military haircut, dark brown
eyes that openly warned don’t mess with
me and a wicked-looking scar that ran down
the left side of his cheek. Yikes!
With a slight nod of his head and a terse
grunt of acknowledgment, Seth said nothing further to the three of
us. My eyes bugged when I caught sight of the head of what appeared
to be an intricate snake tattoo peeking out from the collar of his
shirt when he turned to retrieve my bag from the aircraft. I had a
suspicion Seth was more than Roman’s personal driver—a congenial,
cap-wearing chauffeur Seth was not.
Roman had offered an apology at having to
leave so abruptly; his first meeting for the day was located in the
opposite direction of our hotel and thus the reason for the two
vehicles that awaited us upon landing at the small private
airfield. Of course, Roman’s thoughtful gesture by arranging a
vehicle to transport us to the hotel prompted Courtney to wax on
and on and on all the way to our hotel. She gushed with how
thoughtful he was, how good-looking, how accomplished,
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