by Noree Kahika
SPIRALING
DECEPTION
~ Book One ~
The Phoenix Alumni
By
Noree Kahika
Spiraling Deception.
Copyright © 2015 Noree Kahika
All rights reserved.
Spiraling Deception is book one in the Phoenix Alumni series
by Noree Kahika.
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to real people, historical events, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, persons living or deceased is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part and in any form.
Edited by Faith Williams at the Atwater Group
Cover Design by Melody Simmons of eBookindiecovers
Prologue
~ Roman Knight ~
Roman felt his phone vibrate—for what seemed like the millionth time today—in the coat pocket of his custom-made black suit just as his driver, Seth, held the door open for him. As he reached into the inside breast pocket to retrieve the phone, Roman unfolded himself from the sleek black Mercedes, and nodded a brisk acknowledgment to Seth.
Roman scanned the message, frowned and then glanced up, momentarily struck by the majestic view of the four-story, twenty-two bedroom, sixteenth-century limestone chateau that sat perched on the grassy knoll before him.
Chateau Mon Desire made both a breathtakingly scenic and imposing portrait in all its extraordinary grandeur—it was just a damn shame he was only here for the next twenty-four hours on business.
“Bonjour Monsieur Knight,” greeted the sprightly Frenchmen, Henri. The man smiled anxiously at Roman while he nervously adjusted the length of his neon purple tie.
“Henri,” acknowledged Roman, barely stifling a yawn just as his phone buzzed in the palm of his hand yet again.
The nine-hour flight from New York to Bordeaux had been draining, adding an additional toll to his already grueling and extremely demanding schedule. Sleep was what Roman was in desperate need of and the measly hour of rest he had procured in the small bedroom of his private plane on the flight over to France was not nearly enough.
“I am pleased to announce, Monsieur Knight, that all the preparations for this evening’s event are finalized.” Henri’s features beamed with obvious pride.
“Good.” Roman nodded distractedly as he typed a short reply to the latest of many urgent emails that required his immediate attention.
Clearing his throat, Henri continued with an optimistic note in his tone. “Would you like a tour of the chateau, to assess for yourself how the arrangements are going, Monsieur Knight?”
“No, thank you, Henri. I’m confident you have everything under control. In fact, I’ll be heading directly up to my suite. I have some pressing business to attend to that cannot wait. Please inform the staff that I don’t wish to be disturbed until later this afternoon.”
“As you wish,” Henri murmured. “But before you take your leave, Monsieur Knight, may I offer you something to drink or eat? Some coffee, perhaps a little wine and some cheese?”
Roman momentarily tore his gaze away from the damn phone and regarded the man before him. Henri LeSage was the operations manager of Chateau Mon Desire. The chateau itself was located in Sauternes, a thirty-minute drive from Bordeaux in South West France. Although well into his sixties, Henri was a spritely, agile man who had a penchant for garishly bright, colorful ties. His hair was dark brown with a liberal sprinkling of gray throughout and he wore a classic French goatee. Born and raised in the Bordeaux region of France, Henri had lived here all his life. Winemaking was in his blood, with over six generations of LeSage family members producing some of the finest sweet wines in the country, if not the world.
Roman had always been diverse with his business investments and buying Chateau Mon Desire four years ago was undoubtedly a diverse addition to his extensive portfolio. Until recently, it had also proved to be a mildly lucrative adventure. However, this year, the chateau had produced its best yield to date and with several high-profile wine merchants coming to the chateau this weekend, Roman had taken time out of his busy schedule to fly over and attend the celebrations before he headed to Paris for several business meetings. Early April was the time when prominent chateaus in Bordeaux showcased their new vintages for the coming year and Chateau Mon Desire was no exception.
“Thank you but no, Henri.” Roman used a gentler tone, knowing that not only was he disappointing the eager employee, but he simply could not delay attending to business any further.
“As you wish,” Henri conceded with a slight bow of his head.
Roman noted the flash of disappointment flare visibly through Henri’s eyes and regretted being the cause, but he neither wished nor had the inclination to tour the chateau while hearing of the past year’s endeavors, regardless of the exuberance Henri exhibited. A long, hot shower and a few hours uninterrupted to return the numerous phone calls and pressing emails was what Roman needed. That and a couple of days of sleep, but there was no possibility of that happening with the slew of meetings he had to attend to over the next few days in Paris.
Roman paid his Knight Industries executives exceptionally well to manage his subsidiary investments. It was their responsibility to compile the numerous reports and present the bottom line to him personally; he did not need to be snowed under with the day-to-day operations of trivial ventures. Hell, he hadn’t even planned to attend the chateau’s celebrations at all but his PA, Maggie, had talked him into adding it to the schedule at the last minute. Her reasoning being Roman was flying to France this weekend anyway. Now, seeing the passionate Frenchman in person, Roman suspected Henri had worn Maggie down, which was a small feat in itself. Maggie was one tough cookie to crack at the best of times but especially when it came to organizing Roman’s schedule. The woman could be a virtual dictator when it came to his business engagements.
With a video conference call scheduled before the celebrations began this evening, and three more meetings in Paris over the next two days, his agenda was almost full. Tuesday, he planned to be aboard his jet and fly home to New York despite Alexander Roth’s—a computer genius who’d made billions off his software designs and who also happened to be one of Roman’s closest friends—plea to spend a few days on his luxurious yacht, which coincidently happened to be currently docked in Venice. The idea was…immensely tempting and God knew he could use a few days of nothing but rest and relaxation. And Venice, of course, was the ideal location for that…but Roman was less than two weeks away from closing in on a major deal that if successful, would be worth literally millions to Knight Industries. Current negotiations with the deal were tenuous at best, so it was in Roman’s interest that he head back to the office as soon as possible. With an inward sigh, Roman thought it was days like this that he felt a great deal older than his thirty-two years.
“Well, if there is anything you need, please don’t hesitate in letting me or the staff know, Monsieur Knight.” Henri began to walk away only to stop and turn around abruptly. “Oh mon dieu, I almost forgot!” Henri cried animatedly. “I fervently hope this evening’s entertainment is to your liking, Monsieur Knight. I am most pleased to have secured a very skilled and entertaining acrobat troupe known as the Amazing Lawson Performers and as it so happens, they, too, are American. I had the great pleasure of seeing them perform personally in Sonoma last year when I was there for the winemaker’s conference. Their act was extremely impressive, and so I thought they would make a delightful addition to this weekend’s festivities.”
“They’re from America? I thought you would hav
e brought in some local talent, Henri.” Roman’s brows raised in mild surprise at Henri’s choice of entertainment.
“Oui. We also have some local talent as well, but I am hoping our international guests this evening will find them as uniquely talented and charming as I did last year.”
“I look forward to this evening’s performance then, Henri.” Roman dismissed the Frenchman, and he headed toward the ornate staircase that led to the fourth floor of Chateau Mon Desire where his private master suite was situated, permanently reserved for Roman even though he had only visited the chateau twice in the past four years.
Roman knocked back the last drop of the crisp white wine from his glass as the man who sat next to him continued to ramble on and on about some trivial business venture he had recently embarked on. Roman knew instinctively the boorish man was hedging for new investors in his latest enterprise and even though Roman had made it abundantly clear he was not interested, the fool continued to babble on, much to Roman’s mounting irritation. With a glance at his watch, he wondered how much longer he’d have to endure this fucking aggravation before he could take his leave. The table he was seated at was one of twenty, all filled with inebriated wine merchants in the grand ballroom of his own goddamn chateau. The evening had become predictively mind-numbing and beyond insufferable.
To add to Roman’s displeasure, he did not get any rest that afternoon; he’d spent half the time on the phone and the other half on his fucking laptop. As Roman sat there, he swore to himself that after he got through the next crucial months with Knight Industries, he would come back to Chateau Mon Desire for a much-needed vacation sans annoyingly opportunistic businessmen and obnoxiously drunken wine merchants and finally have the opportunity to enjoy the estate in all its magnificence.
The sound of Henri clearing his throat through the microphone drew his attention to the animated little French man. Speaking firstly in his native language and then followed by English, Henri LeSage introduced the evening’s featured entertainment.
“Ladies and gentleman, without further ado, I am pleased to introduce to you our honored guests, the very talented acrobatic troupe, all the way from the United States of America—the Amazing Lawson Performers.”
The applause dwindled as the lights faded with only a lone spotlight centered on the square stage in the middle of the grand ballroom. A thick silk white ribbon hung between two trapeze apparatuses from the fifteen-foot ceiling and a young man with sandy blond hair and dressed in an emerald-green bodysuit walked out and made his way to the stage. Lithely, the young man climbed the long aerial ribbon, and then swung his agile athletic body across to the right-hand trapeze and positioned himself. Once he was situated in the center of the bar, the music began, resonating from the room’s sound system and drawing the complete attention of the room’s occupants. Roman vaguely recognized the song as a recent popular hit; the song was called “Stay,” if he remembered correctly, and as the keys of the piano intro played, a petite woman also walked confidently across the floor. She strode up the four stairs that led to the center stage and her palm blindly reached out, absently stroking the silk of the ribbon in a tender caress. She stood poised; a brilliant smile lit her angelic face as her gaze swept the room.
Mere feet from the stage, Roman could clearly see her expressive eyes move fleetingly yet politely through the audience before they settled on his. The instant their gazes met, Roman felt a connection and by judging by the falter of her smile, the beauty felt it too. Hesitantly, she shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably as Roman blatantly seized her gaze for several long beats with his own penetrating glare. From his unobstructed view of the stage, Roman noted the woman was young—early to mid-twenties at least—and possibly the most breathtakingly beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on, despite her being the polar opposite of his usual preference in women.
With sardonic amusement, Roman watched in satisfaction as her broad smile completely vanished altogether as he continued to hold her reluctant gaze captivated. Her perfectly pink bow-shaped lips parted as she inhaled a deep, trembling breath. With a slight shake of her head, the gorgeous princess forcefully tore her gaze from Roman’s; her smile tentatively returned as she regarded the aerial ribbon above her head.
After she entwined her right foot into the silk with remarkable elegance, she climbed up, her body almost as fluid as the silk ribbon itself. From Roman’s vantage point, he glimpsed the flawless hue of her creamy porcelain skin. She wore a pearl-essence leotard that barely covered her small, petite yet deliciously curvy body and despite her long, golden-blonde hair being swept back from her face and up high in a ponytail, it was abundantly thick and plentiful, hanging down so low it almost skimmed the top of her shapely ass. Just like her body, her generous golden strands were fluid like a waterfall cascading over the expanse of her slender body.
With every graceful move of her gorgeously sensual form, Roman felt his cock twitch until it painfully hardened within the confines of his suit pants. His body’s reaction to the sight of her was comparable to that of an irrepressible fifteen-year-old boy’s—she was quite simply that mesmerizing.
As the words of the song played out, she arched her back seductively; her arms and legs danced methodically in classical ballet positions as she flowed in natural harmony with the haunting melody of the music, moving entirely as one entity with the silk ribbon. The woman performed as if the sole reason for her being born into this world was to dance gracefully, intertwining that perfect little body of hers while suspended ten feet in the air with only a sheer strip of fabric for support.
As he scanned the audience, Roman found every last man in the room entirely enthralled by the enchanting beauty and her performance. For some insane reason, he instantly became possessive.
“Fuckers,” he growled under his breath, and then turned his attention back to the stage.
Roman had always had a predilection toward tall, tanned, willowy brunettes and as a general rule, he was usually attracted to women closer in age to himself…that was, until this evening. Along with every other hot-blooded male in the room, Roman was entirely enthralled and completely captivated by the tiny blonde woman.
But unlike every other fucker in the room, Roman knew categorically, he would stop at nothing to have the exquisitely beautiful little dancer in his bed and writhing in passion beneath him.
Now all he had to do was ensure there were no obstacles in his way.
Chapter One
~ France ~
“Charli! Concentrate, for fuck sakes!” Jake thundered down at me from up high on his position on the trapeze. “Your arms are too loose. And your core balance is fucking shit today.”
“Sorry.” I mumbled contritely and winced when I shook my arms out to the side. I’d known my balance was off; in fact, my whole body felt weirdly disconnected all morning. God—I prayed I wasn’t coming down with anything. With two days to go before our troupe flew out to France for our first-ever international performance, there was no freaking way I wanted to disappoint the team by getting sick. I really, really wanted to nail this new routine.
On reflection, it was probably too ambitious and unrealistic to think we could introduce a brand new routine—and a complicated one—at this late stage of the game. But I loved the song we’d chosen. The new choreography, combined with the music, would certainly be a showstopper if Jake and I could pull it off. Correction: if I could pull it off. Jake nailed the routine every single time we’d rehearsed it. After all, this was going to be my final performance with the Amazing Lawson Performers—I wanted to go out with a bang.
“Okay, Charli, let’s try this again. Watch my cues, keep count with the melody, keep the tension in those fucking arms tight, and use your core strength to propel your body forward this time when you take hold of my grip. Okay?”
Jake lifted his chin and signaled Courtney to play the song once more. Beginning the ascent, I entwined my right foot around the white aerial silk ribbon and Jake took his position
on the trapeze. As he swung back and forth, his arms stretched down, taut, as he counted off beats in time with the music. I wound my way up the silk with a basic wrap climb and reached the ideal height just as the piano intro of “Stay”—a song by Rihanna—concluded and the chorus began.
Inclining backward, I counted off three beats and then arched farther back, arms stretched out as I moved into a slow triple spin.
Inverted with only his feet entwined around the trapeze, Jake swung his body closer to mine, his hands extended in anticipation for the catch. I reached my hands up to his; we connected—the sound of our palms slapping together echoed throughout the room. We swung in tandem for three counts before we disengaged and I flipped my body down into an inverted descent, spinning around and around the aerial ribbon.
On cue with the melody, I climbed back up and extended into a simple split before I propelled my body forward, closer to Jake’s outstretched hands once more. With his strength, Jake caught my small wrists in a firm clasp and gracefully I untangled my ankle from the ribbon, swinging in time with Jake as he pulled me up and over his body through the trapeze.
When Jake glided us back toward the hanging ribbon, I released his grip and wrapped my right ankle around the silk, preparing to execute a single-ankle inverted drop. As I released the ribbon, I let my body fall down into an inverted rotation, spinning around and around in precise synchronization with the words of the song.
We nailed the rest of the routine perfectly and just as the song drew to its closing note, both Jake and I spun slowly, entwined in each other’s arms, down the ribbon and landed on the floor. I giggled when Jake swept me off my feet and dipped me backward in a dramatic pose.
