by Noree Kahika
“I remember reading somewhere there are literally thousands of chateaus in Bordeaux,” I murmured, unable to take my eyes off the view.
“Oui, Charli. There are over nine thousand, six hundred and twenty chateaus in the Bordeaux region of France.” The sound of my name rolling over his tongue in that musical French accent immediately made me want to learn the French language just so I could sound like that too.
“I would be delighted to give all of you a tour of the estate later this afternoon, but first, please allow me to show you to your rooms so you may freshen up.” Henri gestured us toward the distinguished staircase with a sweep of his hand.
Jake gave me a quick kiss on my cheek when we arrived at the door to my assigned room. “I’ll come and get you in half an hour for rehearsals.”
“We’ll be right next door if you need us,” added Courtney, distracted. She smirked at Jake.
Somehow, I had the feeling they’d be longer than half an hour from the way Jake grinned at Courtney. Crazy lovebirds—I couldn’t blame them. After all, this was the ultimate romantic setting.
When I opened the solid walnut door to the bedroom, I stopped and gasped in wonder.
If I’d thought the polished mahogany wall paneling and huge, sweeping staircase adorned with medieval paintings hung in collections along the walls that led up to various floors had been beyond extraordinary, then this room was on a whole other level.
It was simply quite breathtaking. And it wasn’t just a bedroom; it was a suite—an enormous luxurious suite bathed in warm accented creams and the softest pastel pinks. The walls were a warm cream with elaborate wainscoting and the carpet—also cream—was lush, thick, and springy to walk on. I immediately kicked off my ballet flats and felt the thick, decadent spongy pile of wool between my toes.
Heaven.
A huge ivory four-poster bed draped in pale shades of blush, pink, and golds—from the duvet to the numerous matching accented pillows arranged symmetrically at the bedhead—took pride of place in the center of the room. My gaze caught admiringly on the large gilded fireplace on the left wall. A colossal beveled mirror with an ornate gilt frame sat atop the mantel and positioned on the floor directly in front of the fireplace was a cream velvet chaise with contrasting rose pink piping. It was the ideal place to relax and read a book or just cuddle up in front of a fire on a cold winter’s night. My fingers ran across the softness of the fabric as I wondered whether there would be time tonight after the performance to do exactly that. Wistfully, I pictured myself curled up on the chaise, a crackling fire warming the room as I savored a glass of sweet wine.
Bliss.
Across the other side of the room against the right wall was a double set of French doors that led out to a traditional French balcony, complete with embellished wrought-iron railing. Curtains that matched the fabric of the bed framed the doors and to the side, two generously sized antique chairs gathered around a glass-topped table and fine crystal vase bursting with a riot of pink tulips.
The suite was whimsically enchanting, very feminine, and straight out of a freaking fairy tale—so much so, I half expected Cinderella to waltz in at any minute.
After further investigation, I discovered the large bathroom, gleaming from floor to ceiling in cream marble with veins of gold and rose threaded through the tiling. An old-fashioned, but pristine claw-footed bathtub with what appeared to be actual gold-plated fixtures—you’ve got to be kidding me—beckoned seductively from the center of the room.
A sharp knock at the bedroom door abruptly brought me out of the dreamy haze I was in and reluctantly, I left the heavenly bathroom to answer it.
“Charli. You have got to see our freaking room—” squealed Courtney as I opened the door. Barreling past, she strode into the room, and then stopped dead in her tracks and gaped, mouth wide open like one of those clowns you throw balls into their mouths at a carnival sideshow. She turned around in a slow circle and took in every detail of the lavish suite, all the while chanting, “Ohmigod! Ohmigod!”
“Court.” I waved my hand in front of her face.
“And I thought our room was the shit. Your room is straight out of a fairytale story. It’s…It’s like Cinderella’s freaking bedroom.”
“I know, right?” I followed her gaze. “That’s exactly what I thought!”
Courtney skipped over to the bed and jumped on it, bouncing twice and then swung her gaze around the room once more. “Oh, I forgot—your bag is at the door. They brought it to our room by mistake. Also, Jake says to tell you to be ready in fifteen for rehearsals,” she said absently.
“Thanks.” I retrieved my small rollaway suitcase from the hallway and rolled it toward the foot of the bed, wishing I didn’t have to leave my room at all. Maybe after the show, I could slip away unnoticed and at least enjoy a soak in the claw-footed bathtub before we had to leave first thing in the morning.
“You ready?” Jake asked.
“Yeah,” I replied between breaths. Nerves always got the better of me right before a performance. But as soon as the lights lowered, the music began and I took the stage, my hand caressing the silk fabric of the aerial ribbon, all the butterflies in my stomach would dissipate and then nothing else existed in that moment of time.
“Showtime, kiddo,” Jake whispered into my ear, and gave my hand a quick, encouraging squeeze. I watched as he confidently walked out among the crowd and stepped up on the small raised platform erected for tonight’s show in the center of the ballroom.
Rehearsals went smoothly and after I got over the initial shock at the sheer size of the chateau’s grand ballroom, I was excited to see Uncle Mike and the rest of the troupe who were already there and going through a series of safety checks and last-minute preparations for the evening’s performance.
As I adjusted the sheer pearl-white chiffon skirt that tied around the waist of my sleeveless leotard, I silently counted to ten and watched Jake effortlessly climb the trapeze on the center stage and then made my entry into the vast ballroom. The room lighting was muted to a soft glow and only the spotlight shone visibly onto the center platform. After I climbed the three small steps, I stopped beside the ribbon and caressed it affectionately with the palm of my hand as I waited silently for the music to begin.
This was it—my last performance with the troupe, bittersweet yet hopefully an exciting finale. The choreography, combined with the song “Stay” by Rihanna, made the routine hauntingly seductive and soulfully melancholy—the perfect combination for my final performance. Although a beautiful piece, it was fittingly sad because, I was sad to be leaving the troupe. We’d all formed a close-knit bond over the years of touring together.
Shrouding the room into further darkness, the muted lighting was extinguished as the piano intro began. As I extended my right hand, I wound the white silk ribbon around my wrist and down my forearm like a snake coiling an unyielding spiral around its prey. Looking out into the darkened ballroom, I couldn’t see beyond the first row of tables closest to the stage, but from rehearsals earlier that afternoon, I knew there were at least twenty large round tables, each seating up to ten and encircling the room. The low murmurs of the audience were faintly audible despite the resounding tempo of the music.
As I silently commenced counting in sync with the notes of the piano, my gaze absently flickered forward. The beam from the spotlight illuminated just enough light that I could see a pair of eyes stare back at me. Those eyes belonged to a man seated at the head of the table straight in front of the stage and in my direct line of sight.
My breath seized.
I lost count.
And my body froze.
Being watched by an audience had never bothered me before—it was all part and parcel of performing on the stage. However, there was something different about them. They weren’t observing my form as a whole—they intently stared into my eyes. It was as if they had deliberately sought out my focus, lured me in, and ensnared all of my consciousness.
Those da
rk orbs held my gaze captive, riveted in a firm and unyielding vise that was near impossible to break. A spine-tingling shiver raced down the back of my spine as I fought to regain my breathing.
My mouth felt dry and I swallowed, trying to remember what I was supposed to be doing in that moment. But all I could see was him. All I could feel were his dark, fathomless, mesmerizing eyes on mine. It felt as though I were slowly devoured from the inside out and another tremble rolled down my back.
Although his features were partially obscured by shadows, making it near impossible to see his face, everything about the man blatantly held me prisoner, screamed with sensually raw, masculine aggression—the effect disconcerting and paralyzing.
As if sensing my discomfort, his pensive expression relaxed fractionally, and from the shadows I could see the full edges of his lips curve up to one side. He appeared to be…smirking.
Was the jerk smirking at me?
My gaze narrowed toward the stranger at the same time the sound of Jake hissing down from the trapeze filtered through the haze in my head. “Charli! What the fuck!”
Shit, shit, SHIT!
Giving my head a small shake to clear my thoughts, I improvised, entwining my right leg around the ribbon, and ascended with a basic wrap climb.
Chapter Three
After the show, I attempted to stealthily slip away and abscond back to my gorgeous suite for the remainder of the evening but was thwarted by Uncle Mike. He caught me on the steps. A stern frown masked his face as he demanded my attendance along with the other troupe members at the after-party. His order put a major kibosh on my plans for the night. Damn it!
Grudgingly, I raced back up to my room and quickly changed into the solitary dress I’d brought with me on the trip—a typical LBD—or at least my version of a “little black dress.” Basically, it was a long-sleeved shift dress that ended mid-thigh; all lace at the front and very demure but behind was pure sex kitten, with a low cutout panel that exposed the majority of skin right down to an inch above my ass. The detailed lace was stretchy and clung to what little curves I had in a very flattering way. I loved the dress and planned to wear it out one night during our stay in Paris. The dress said more night clubby then sophisticated elegance, so I felt a little uncomfortable putting it on at first. But I hadn’t brought anything else, so it would have to do. There were times when I really should listen to Courtney—she had told me to pack more.
Normally, there weren’t any after-party celebrations to attend, unless you counted going for a ride on the roller coaster afterwards. The Amazing Lawsons mainly performed at local county fairs and the odd company corporate functions. Oh well, the dress would have to do.
As I brushed my hair out, I decided to leave it loose and hanging down my back in an effort for modesty and jogged back down the stairs to meet up with Jake and Courtney.
They waited for me just outside the entrance to the ballroom, which had been cleared of tables after the dinner and show, and now had a live band playing classical pop songs.
Jake pivoted to face me and growled. “What the fuck happened out there, Charli?”
Shit! I just knew Jake was going to ream my ass over what had happened earlier. That’s why I’d avoided him as soon as we’d left the stage.
My hands lifted up in a placating manner. “I know, I know. I’m sorry, Jake. I messed up and lost focus. But at least I recovered in time and the rest of the routine was perfect.”
“Focus!” His face flushed red with exasperation. The vein in his temple pulsated furiously. Clearly, Jake wasn’t ready to let this go. “How many times have I told you? Shit, kiddo, that’s something you can’t afford to do when you’re out there. What do you think would happen if you lost focus up on the ribbon or trapeze? You’d fall and kill yourself—that’s what! Thank Christ it happened on the floor.” When he finished his tirade, his chest was heaving with effort.
My hands balled at my hips, I opened my mouth to respond but Courtney beat me to it. “Ah, guys…now is not the time or place to be having this discussion. Besides, you’re both missing the big picture here. You two totally nailed it tonight. Let it go, for now at least.”
Courtney had always been the peacemaker between us. Whenever Jake and I got into our disagreements, as siblings frequently do, Courtney would always charge in and smooth everything over. She was always saying that we were two peas in a pod—both stubborn to a fault. And she wasn’t wrong there.
“Charli.” Courtney grabbed my shoulders and pulled me toward her. “You were hot out there tonight, babe. From the second you walked out, I swear, all eyes were on you and I even saw some of the drool. Drool!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide as saucers.
“Thanks, Court,” I whispered and wrapped my arms around her to pull her in for a hug. After a few seconds of rocking back and forth in each other’s arms, she pulled back and grinned at me. I grinned back at her.
“And you, handsome…” She turned toward Jake. “Made me horny as hell just watching you.”
Jake threw his arm around Courtney and tucked her into his side. “Court, babe, you say that after every performance.”
“Yeah, well, because it’s true.” She gave him a wink and added, “Now let’s party.”
Catching Courtney’s eyes, I mouthed thank-you to her, and the three of us made our way into the ballroom.
I stood to the side of the room as I watched waiters dressed in white dinner jackets and carrying silver trays with numerous bottles of wine atop flow fluidly among the chateau’s guests. Courtney had coaxed Jake into dancing with her on the dance floor, along with some of the members of the troupe, while the rest were scattered around the room and enjoying the celebrations.
Everyone appeared to be having a great time, except me. I silently counted down the minutes before an acceptable time had passed and I could finally leave. An antique claw-footed bathtub called my name from several floors above and I couldn’t wait to be intimately acquainted with it. At least the white wine I devoured by the glassful was delicious: light, sweet, and delectably fruity. Although I wasn’t a wine connoisseur by any stretch, I did have one hell of a sweet tooth, so I was also thinking another glass might hit the spot.
“Mademoiselle Charli.” The sound of Henri’s voice pulled my gaze from the dance floor and I turned toward him. “I would like to introduce Monsieur Knight, the owner of Chateau Mon Desire and our host for this evening.”
With a small smile, my gaze flickered over to the man who stood casually beside Henri and immediately the smile dissolved. Involuntarily, my lips parted and a small gasp escaped them. Heat fused up my neck and into my cheeks as the sound of my heartbeat thundered in my ears, pumping in double time. It was him—the stranger from earlier that evening. The jerk who’d nearly ruined my routine.
Piercing dark eyes drilled into mine, reluctantly captivating my gaze once again. We stared at each other in silence for a few moments before the sound of Henri clearing his throat broke the spell.
Using the distraction of Henri’s voice, I used the time to survey the man before me. So this was the man who’d caused me to falter for the first time ever in my career and almost derailed my routine.
He was…savagely beautiful, purely masculine and now that I had the opportunity to see him in the light, he was very, very tall—at least six three. With broad shoulders and a narrow waist, he looked stunningly sophisticated in his three-piece suit. It was obviously tailor-made for him.
His hair was rich black—thick with a natural wave and artfully tousled to perfection. It looked soft, really soft, and my fingers had the sudden urge to run themselves through those silky locks.
Wait. Where in hell did that thought come from? Shaking my head, I continued with my perusal.
Along with his straight, defined nose, he had full, perfectly shaped lips and dark slashing eyebrows. His complexion was olive, and his aristocratically strong jaw was stippled in what appeared to be a carefully manicured five o’clock shadow. Normally that combination—to
o long to be considered stubble and too short for a beard—would have looked out of place on any other man wearing an expensive three-piece suit and attending a formal function like tonight. However, with this man, it equally portrayed him as both suavely refined and roguishly defiant.
He cleared his throat and raised a brow. “Charli, is it?”
Good God, his voice was deep and smooth like honey. And surprisingly, his accent was…American—West Coast maybe, with that distinctive lilt.
“Er…yes. Charli Gilmore.” I wasn’t sure what I was actually saying to him; those probing dark eyes of his were too disconcerting. “Umm…all my friends call me Charli, which is short for Charlotte.” I shrugged, hoping to God I was at least making some sense. The man was just so handsome—it hurt to look at him.
“Hmm…” he replied noncommittally, but I noticed those full lips of his twitch into the barest hint of a smile. He appeared to be considering something but the momentary silence between us only compounded the awkwardness.
“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Charlotte Gilmore,” he finally said. “I’m Roman Knight.”
Roman Knight. Even his name was suave and sophisticated.
Taking me completely by surprise, he suddenly extended his large, masculine hand out toward me. I flinched at first and then eventually placed my much smaller hand in his. His gaze flickered down to our connected hands; mine followed and together in silence we watched as his fingers wrapped around mine in a firm grasp.
Heat suffused through my palm from our connection and slowly made its way up my arm. I went to withdraw my hand from his but he just held it tighter.
Frowning, I glanced back up and from my peripheral vision I could see Henri slink away. My eyes swung back to Roman. We were alone—off to one side of the room, almost nestled entirely within a small alcove—and Roman Knight, the owner of this breathtaking chateau and the man who just also happened to be playing havoc on my equilibrium, still held my freaking hand. And he refused to let go. The frown on my face turned into a scowl and I bit my lip.
