by Amari, Nina
Only a fool would fall in love with a scoundrel. But, if he was a scoundrel, he was a debonairly handsome one.
Nautical silhouettes hugged the pier as a dinghy motored in open water with its lights off. Above deck, the conversation went on in hushed tones, muted by discreet fear.
Donning his black leather jacket, Danielle noticed Roman had accepted a second wad of money. All she saw was Barton's attaché case appearing out of nowhere and suddenly snapping shut, as Trumball stood with his arms folded-- his stare scanning well across the vicinity. She'd barely gotten a far off glimpse of what Barton had been hiding in that metal briefcase that had never left his sight until now.
Suddenly, the three men parted no sooner than the moment after Roman shifted his hand away from his lapel as his jacket fanned shut.
Despite the optic white swathing a sharp contrast to night, Roman's profile drifted out of sight like a jaguar to its prey. Shadows were long, mingling the gap between clouds and a star-crazed sky bursting luminous pixels of stardust.
As it reached midnight, Roman had long vanished from the helipad in stride. Though the vessel had been loaded with contraband and a fortune in cash, there was still another matter to take care of. The engine trouble stalled the covert operation into the next morning, impeding their tight schedule.
The mist over the harbor had thinned some, and the visibility improved, but what had been gained was quickly consumed by time. Ensuing light threatened to expose a maze of brazen infiltration in a few hours time.
Something had been in the air for weeks, ever since Finch had promoted her to partner. Danielle had a feeling a quake was on the rise. That maybe her promotion had something-- or perhaps added a lot to the equation-- the scapegoat solution. And whom better than the new partner, familiar with Finch Young's supposed official business and ironclad reputation to take the wrap.
Apparently, Oliver Trumball had been sighted amongst the premises during and immediately prior to the time of her promotion, roaming around the office. Confidential paperwork-- everything was off-limits to him, as far as he was concerned.
That was until Oliver Trumball played the "consultant" card. No questions asked. Employees thought nothing of it. The backdoor was always open. Especially for Oliver and his buddies that represented an immense conflict of interest, particularly with Strayhan and Macgregor-- whom each held millions of managed assets under Finch Young's direction.
Apparently Finch hadn't blacklisted Trumball since his convenient retirement-- as Finch often called it-- during one of the most lucrative times in the history of the firm's multi-billion dollar accounts/asset management.
Danielle was absolutely livid and found the matter strange. Although she'd worked her butt off for the promotion, she wasn't about to pass it up based upon pure speculation.
With increased focus, Danielle left the vicinity of the veranda and headed for more answers. There was still the question concerning Roman's involvement and exactly what he was up to.
Danielle meandered the labyrinth of decks in spite of the truth ripping her heart in two. Just like career, she was used to putting everything else above her feelings. Which this time, it was no different. Danielle knew she'd had a job to do, and she was hell bent on finishing it to the end.
Carrying on her pursuit, she paused at a tea and coffee station near a cozy dining space, before spiraling her way again past the galley and upper salon areas of the yacht.
"Oh. My. God." Three words said it all when she'd stumbled across one of the most opulent rooms aboard the entire yacht. Danielle froze wide-eyed with her mouth open. Fabric walls lined an impressive art collection; fine custom furnishings and vast ceilings illuminated another area of retreat. It was absolute and pristine luxury. High-class and undoubtedly expensive.
At that moment she knew only Roman would have acquired such fine taste, except as her body reminded, "How could a man that could kiss so good... how could a man that took my breath away be... be so ahh--"
And then, all of a sudden, there he was again. Danielle caught sight of Roman near the helipad again, as she straddled the upper deck. She let herself look at him for a long moment, the way he stood in the moonlight took her breath away all over again.
It would have been easier to forget the generosity of a man who'd protected her--who'd been there for her. A man who'd never left her side. It would have been simpler to forget the man she'd desperately wanted just the previous afternoon.
But how could she just forget everything they'd shared in the last seventy-two hours? Somewhere in between knowing he'd seemed just what he appeared, and then the doubts that kept creeping to the surface that said, tread with caution-- made the corruption scheme seem less complicated than their relationship.
She just couldn't seem to come to terms with any other opinion but the latter-- tread with caution.
Danielle pressed up against the window surrounded in opulence, as her eyes shot toward a glittering string of light illuminating his profile. Much of the mist had vaporized into thin air that she'd caught a better view from the angle she now stood.
She watched Roman move closer toward the helipad landing strip, as she wrung her hands, cupping them back and forth in one another with a nervous grip. She was barely aware of his involvement and surmised him as the mastermind.
With all of his mysterious behavior, he couldn't have been anything but just that-- involved. She'd just assumed he'd been involved from the very beginning-- from the ordeal in the garage-- even before, from the moment she'd read the letter emblazoned "Confidential."
She was starting to realize the mystery behind the man and his Lamborghini was reason enough that he'd guarded his secrets, shielding himself from their intensely romantic moments. She'd just assumed he never really wanted to get close to her-- for the reasons she thought.
But Danielle was one of them this night, the victim of time. Looking down at her watch, she hadn't noticed it was essentially morning. Despite the softly lit bulkhead streaking the interior walls in an illume glow-- it was pitch-black outside, as the storm gray gaze haloed a mirage across the sky.
Danielle left the art infused room in search of the sundeck. For some strange reason, her gut instinct was leading her there.
Taking a deep breath, she started toward the area her mental compass was directing her every step. Her eyes lit when she saw another spacious patio area. This one was unlike where she'd been; hosting a large 'L' shaped seating area. "How many sofas are aboard this thing?" she murmured.
Meandering beyond the spacious patio, she'd moved toward a flight of steps with caution. Scanning the surroundings proved a challenge now that she'd known Roman, Barton and Trumball had split up. Let alone the brutes roaming around the hull and who knows where else aboard the massive floating castle.
She didn't even want to give it a second thought.
She'd well assume her focus-- they'd all still been too busy to notice she'd been gone.
Climbing the steps toward the upper deck, the yacht was all lit up like a gigantic Christmas tree. The optic white behemoth glittered against the backdrop of black sky. The view was amazing.
But still, she was flustered. She'd felt like she'd gone in circles. She paused with her hands on her hips, trying to fathom the maze of decks again.
Danielle spun on her heels, "How'd I get to the roof of this thing?" she said, just as she rounded the curve of another staircase. And then, a few paces later-- there it was.
"Finally, the sundeck," she muttered and sighed in relief.
By the time she'd reached the sundeck, she'd felt a tug jerk her entire body into the side of a sturdy marble structure. She didn't realize it yet, but suddenly, the roar of an engine had hurled her over the edge of the marble and into the pit of a spa pool.
Maybe she spoke too soon.
When suddenly, she'd heard a union of footsteps trampling layers of cabin. Out of the blue, she heard a gruff voice order, "Go see about her?"
She could tell by the force in n
umber that it had now come to a choice in survival. Danielle knew once the propellers spun a second time after she'd first heard them before going out cold that Barton and his fiends would now be on the move. Problem was, she still hadn't gotten all the answers she needed and she didn't know if she ever would.
Danielle heard the gravelly snarl of one of Barton's fiend's say, "She's gone."
She raised up out of the marble pit just enough to hear a bit more clearly.
"I don't care what you have to do. Find her and take care of it." The evil commandeering cadence in Barton's voice made her stomach churn, as he looked up from a roll of C-notes. "Oh, and tell Jules we're ready," he added, as he stuffed a wad of money into his lapel pocket.
"Jules?" Her words rang out as she stiffened a silent scream. Just as she'd thought: She smelled a trap.
"Oh my god, he is involved. That's all I needed to hear. Why'd I have to be right about him... why would he do this to me?"
Tears welled her eyes as she sunk back down into the hollow where the jolt had hurled her only seconds ago. Sliding downward against the smooth marble, she didn't even feel the chill that embraced the night air across its veined finish. Yet again, her brain hadn't quite clicked into the reality of what she'd just heard, as she cupped her hands over her mouth and tucked her body deeper into the center of the pearlized marble.
"This is a nightmare. I know I'm gonna wake up soon," she pinched her left arm... then, cringing quietly pinching it harder. "Nope. Nothing," she rolled her eyes and added, "I'm still here."
I can't believe this is happening to me.
Roman... He's--
Danielle forced herself to think calmly. If this were a dream or some kind of warped reality, she'd wake up. Maybe she'd been stuck in some out-of-this-world continuum that had nothing to do with the crisis she'd been left to deal with.
Heart racing, she swiped a phantom ponytail that whisked past her shoulders, brushing against the pristine white onyx a second later. She was a quivering mess of confusion, jiggling like jello on the inside of her. When she'd suddenly stretched out her leg, her stiletto snapped back in the process, gliding her headfirst onto the hard wall of the spa pool's embankment.
Unfortunately, a few moments later, her idyll was interrupted by a sharp lunge around her neck and mouth. Danielle's heart thumped hard as she struggled, giving a hard elbow into the assailant's gut. When he loosened his grip, she tore away in an instant.
Flinching, she shifted further away from him, as his breathless panting echoed. Danielle came to a halt, as she braced her body against the top lip of the spa pool while tiny beads of sweat percolated her forehead. She was leaning, resting alongside the marble trying to fill her lungs with energy.
She was still gasping for a breath with her torso walling a barrier between him and the slick veined shell. Danielle could feel his warm breath threading her hair, riding its heat over the ambience of the marble mosaic.
But then a moment later, she'd whisked back around. As she'd turned around, she would not believe the sight that faced her straight in the eyes.
Chapter Eighteen
Danielle paused a weighty silence. She was mortified, completely mortified. The sudden hard hit had stung a heavy blow to the both of them. Her head had long settled its throbbing, while the madwoman all but zapped right out of her. The muscles in her jaw were still jumping, but then suddenly they completely stopped.
Her widened eyes swelled tears as she looked across at the man staring back at her.
"Roman Jules," was all she said.
His name was the one thing her pout lips--steadily stirring vengeance--could stand to utter.
She'd barely muffled another sound, only a sobbing pain rose up out of her chest, as she turned and looked away from him. Clearly, irritation edged her tone for several painstaking seconds.
Pushing her hair from her face, she straightened. Danielle's heart all but froze when her eyes suddenly burned straight back into Roman's. Her rage was fused with how clearly he hadn't thought the truth mattered in their relationship. At this point, she was intent on never having anything to do with him ever again.
Her eyes daggering his bowed physique was all that her body could compose at the moment. She'd thought about the instant she'd ever laid eyes on him again, and the piece of her mind she'd give him. But right now when he'd looked up at her face, breathlessly panting, "Dani--" she was staring back at him with that same stare of fuming pain when she'd watched his suspicious activities at the helipad, only with even more rage.
But then suddenly, without saying a word, she balled one hand into a tight fist at her side. She was slowly clenching her hand even tighter until she'd lunged at him with smoldering eyes. She was coming at him fast, her inner muscles tightening so taut that her veins started to poke through her flesh. And not a moment too soon, she'd pounced on him again, striking a heavy blow to his torso with all the strength in her.
Her heart raced as though the pain she'd felt was releasing from the inside of her all at once.
And then she punched him in the chest for a second time. She didn't let up, hardly feeling any sting at all when she gave him another smack into his shoulder, barely catching a breath to her lungs.
Danielle was rising high and low on his heavy body. He'd felt the pain in his gut thump hard, the second her fist left it. At this point, he could barely keep her from hurting him, without hurting her. He knew he had to hold back his strength long enough to plead, "Wait!"
But, before she could react and come back with another blow, his hands withdrew from its futile barrier. And then he was moving slower still, losing his anchoring on the bench seat. His hand wrenched his shoulder with a grip loosening by the second. Roman was bowing back and forth trying to quell the stomach muscles that were still painfully thumping on and off-- and then on again.
He had never looked so done in. He would've laid down his arms to her femininity. He couldn't lay a hand on a woman. He wouldn't dare ever attempt to, no matter the position facing him. But his momentary disconnect would either cause him to face her rationale or perhaps take into the account how he'd shattered her heart into a thousand pieces.
And, surprisingly, he'd held out this long. Barely seconds later, his hand slid down his limbered arm, as he'd clutched the sting still pulsating his gut.
"Dani--" he choked on a breath as he repeated, "Wait."
Even so, his voice beseeching, and his panting teasing close to her lips, she was coming faster again, until suddenly he fell back against the tiled edge of the spa pool and away from her fists. Roman's words instantly trailed away the moment his back thumped hard against the solid marble shell, as his leather cushioned the fall.
And now there they were seated in the hollow of a spa pool, having it out for reasons that could have in fact been a total misunderstanding. Staring the embankment in the face, the hard wall of marble only shielded each other from the peril looming outside its shell rather than the threat they'd posed to each other within it-- all for the sake of love.
Before he had even realized what had happened, his eyes shifted a slanting glance at her fist suddenly stalled in midair. He was still panting, his brow percolating another layer of sweat.
Despite the breeze lifting the tides in heavy rifts, splashing the yacht with a force in rhythm with his throbbing, Roman sat perfectly still. His bronze features glowed against ornately patterned white onyx and indigo as he straddled across the tiled mosaics slicked in little shimmering pieces, mirroring sparkling glass.
It was a Zen-master's dream. Opulence and luxury. Glorious calm. Rejuvenation under the stars and at sea. The spa pool could've housed five comfortably. Sleek tile decked the floor and surround in a glimmering bowl of pearlescent and purplish-blue mosaics. But, this ample retreat wouldn't be fit for soaking tonight. Despite the fact, it was small enough that his six-foot-four frame would mash into hers more than a couple of times.
Danielle's heartbeat, which had barely slowed, kicked back into overdrive.
She wasn't about to let him off easy. Taking a deep breath, she fisted her arm backward reeling to pound into him even more. Roman saw her hand fisted like a tomahawk aimed straight for him when his eyes widened.
Suddenly, he propped himself up on the seat, drawing back in the split second he'd gotten a better look at her gaze and where she was aiming-- this time.
He suddenly shook his head, feeling incredibly defensive, as alarm bells rang loud and clear in his brain. He tried to suppress it when he'd swallowed instead. But then, in the lowest octave possible he bit back a shout in impulse, "No. Wait." The words tore straight from his mouth, "Danielle, stop!"
Words didn't seem to get her attention, as he'd tried to keep his voice to a minimum. Roman stiffened into an even tighter position, cupping his groin with one hand, as he wedged his other hand in defense of her fist.
And then she flung herself toward him again. This time he'd managed to pull her closer, his arms folded around her.
But, the way Danielle pulled away out of his hold would have made any man fret his chances of kindling any kind of love.
She floored straight into the broad wall of his chest a second later. When her hand slipped against the tiled seat, landing her at the very heart of where her arms left his only seconds ago.
His taut brawn cushioned her fall onto a heart that was pulsing like crazy. But now, their panting was just moments away from shifting him toward a state of arousal.
Roman's voice was steadily breathing a chain of low groans to her ear. But, she'd hardly even known it when she'd stifled her own need instead of pleasure, the need for him to feel the kind of pain she'd been suffering in the hands of a fraud.
Their panting still echoed long after Roman had suddenly folded his arms around her, running his hand across her cheekbones. Fortunately, this time, she wasn't in such a hurry to let go. His gaze was stuck on the rise and fall of her breasts pouring ripples through the glittery fabric of her bustier.
He was just recording the heat rippling through his arms-- the way her silken skin felt on the edge of his fingertips. He'd just remembered how the brush of her soft hair swept across his mouth, placing him in a daze for seconds on end. He was computing every last second to memory, when Danielle suddenly lunged backward, sweeping his arms off hers. "Get off me. I said get off of me."