by Noree Kahika
“Charli,” I corrected. That damn little flutter in my stomach started up again at the way he stared at me.
“Charli.” He nodded conciliatorily. “So what are your plans while you are in Paris?”
“Well, after we check in to our hotel, I guess we’ll start on some sightseeing. It’s going to be hard to fit in everything we want to see in only two days.”
He nodded in agreement and then ran his thumb across his bottom lip, as if he was contemplating something. “When do you fly out?” he asked after several moments of silence.
“The morning after tomorrow.”
“Hmm,” he murmured, and then pulled out his cell to look at something.
I gazed once more out of the plane’s window. We were flying low enough that I could still make out the sweeping scenery from below.
The sound of Roman’s voice drew my attention back to him. “I know of this quaint little restaurant on the Champs-Élysées that I’m positive you’d enjoy. It is renowned for its superb traditional French cuisine and has an unobstructed view of the Arc de Triomphe. Unfortunately, I have meetings to attend to, both today and tomorrow and a business dinner this evening. However, I’m free tomorrow evening. I’d like to take you to dinner tomorrow night, Charli.”
“Oh…uh…” I sputtered hesitantly. He’d completely taken me off guard and immediately my eyes swung to Courtney and Jake, who were deep in their own private conversation.
“Charli?”
I bit my lip before I looked back at him.
Once we arrived in Paris, I expected it would be the last I’d ever see of Roman Knight, and part of me couldn’t wait. He was infuriatingly arrogant, offensively aggressive, and way too full of himself. And that stunt he pulled last night—the man made my blood boil.
But this morning, he’d been actually pleasant, with the exception of the limo ride, of course. And his genuine concern over me missing breakfast was surprisingly sweet.
I could feel his impatient gaze on me. I held up my hand to signal him to give me a moment as I stared out the window to consider his invitation.
He was overbearingly cocky and deliberately intimidating but for some weird reason, he intrigued me. Although at times annoying, his touch also made me feel giddy, breathless, and desirable. There was no denying we had chemistry between us. And that kiss last night…wow…that kiss. Absentmindedly, I ran my forefinger along my bottom lip. That kiss we shared last night was…hot. It stirred feelings in me that I didn’t even know existed.
However, spending any more time in the presence of Roman Knight would result with me either falling recklessly into bed with him or being arrested for assault and battery. But when it boiled down to it, the thought of never seeing him again literally gave me a sharp pang of pain in my chest.
“Charlotte,” he called once more. This time there was no mistaking the impatient tone to his voice.
Deciding to test the waters, I said, “Well, I’m not too sure what we have planned but I could ask Jake and Court if they’d like—”
“Let me be clear,” he interrupted in a low voice as he leaned toward me. “I wasn’t offering to take the three of you out. 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, blah, blah, blah, which led to numerous eye rolls from both Jake and me.
By the end of the ride, I’d had enough and snapped, “Okay, Court, I get it! I love you, babe, but enough with the Roman Knight fan club, please. I’m begging you.”
My exasperated plea garnered a, “Hear, hear. I second that, Court. For fuck’s sake, enough about Knight already,” by an equally exasperated Jake.
Court’s responding huff of indignation was a little funny but for the remainder of the journey, she didn’t mention Roman’s name again. Thank God!
The limo dropped us off at our accommodations, an elegant building that was transformed into a hotel in the early 1920s and had a distinctly Parisian style and charm to it. The hotel’s location was in one of the most beautiful areas of Paris, according to our travel agent, and within a ten-minute walk from the Arc de Triomphe, the Champs-Élysées, and the Eiffel Tower.
Courtney squealed in delight and jumped up and down as soon as we’d entered the hotel. “I can’t believe we’re actually in Paris!”
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“I know, right? Paris!” I squealed back.
To all our surprise, when we handed over our confirmed reservation voucher, the hotel manager announced in heavily accented English that we’d been given a complimentary upgrade from the standard hotel rooms we had booked. The upgrade was to two luxury suites and included buffet breakfasts for the duration of our stay. The news brought on another round of squeals from both Courtney and me. Poor Jake, used to our fits of girlie enthusiasm over the years, just rolled his eyes but when his mouth curved into a wide grin, I knew he was just as thrilled. We were all on tight budgets for this trip, so for our rooms to be unexpectedly upgraded and breakfast thrown in was an awesome windfall.
After we dropped our bags off in our respective suites—which, by the way, were totally amazing—we freshened up and then made our way to the pick-up point for the red double-decker hop-on/hop-off sightseeing bus. We’d booked a two-day pass and according to the bus timetable, the route covered all the major attractions on a revolving two-hour loop.
Paris was all I’d imagined and so much more. The city was simply extraordinary, from the impressive architecture to the beautifully winding cobblestone streets. No matter where we looked, as we rode the open-aired bus, every sight was mind-blowingly more spectacular than the last. The day couldn’t have been more glorious: the sun was shining—not even a cloud was present in the sky as we rode from one grand historic monument to the next to hop out to take photos and walk around before we caught the next bus.
First stop was the iconic Eiffel Tower. We took countless photos, and then rode the decoratively painted wooden horses on the charmingly antique carousel. We followed that with lunch, which for me consisted of the most mouthwateringly delicious cherry-flavored jelly crepe in the world. Then we were back on the bus to visit the world’s most famous museum, the Louvre, followed by a photo stop at the magnificent Notre Dame. The sheer size and beauty of the Gothic cathedral literally took my breath away—it was that impressive.
Two days in Paris would never be enough time to experience all the incredible splendor and vast history this amazingly romantic city had to offer.
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 k
not, 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.