by Noree Kahika
He sounded weary, tired, and extremely frustrated over the phone and my heart instantly went out to him. And as the days progressed, I missed his company—this was the first time in several weeks we’d gone for an extended period of time without seeing each other. His prolonged physical absence began to make me feel oddly bereft, and broody. I’d gotten used to having Roman around and without him, everything seemed to be tinged and colored with a drab shade of gray.
I missed his sensual touch, his musky scent, and the taste of his beautiful lips on mine. I even missed our silly little squabbles and nonsensical banter. I missed everything about Roman Knight, period. Which, of course, was completely ridiculous—the man wasn’t dead—he was busy working, for God’s sakes.
However, this evening we were attending a cocktail party together. A charity, according to Roman, he, along with other New York prominent business figures, supported. I was excited to see him. I was thrilled to have an excuse to dress up and hit the town. And I was more than a little intrigued to meet some of his friends and peers.
“There’s nothing to be nervous about, Princess.” Roman’s palm settled warmly on my knee.
Covering my hand over his, I sighed. “I can’t help it. There’s going to be some of your friends there and I’m anxious.”
He chuckled, turned his palm over and entwined his fingers with mine. “Only Alex is attending tonight. The rest of the room will be filled with a lot of stuffy, pretentious people. You’ll most likely be bored within the hour and beg me to take you home.”
“Alex? The Alex whose yacht we stayed on in Venice?”
“The one and only.”
I slapped Roman’s shoulder and my voice came out somewhat shrill when I said, “You didn’t tell me he was going to be here. I thought you said he lived on the West Coast? Now I’m really nervous.”
“Relax,” he admonished. “You’ll like Alex. Just don’t let him flirt with you. I’d hate to have to hit one of my closest friends in public. And yes, he lives in San Francisco.”
I rolled my eyes and ignored his flirting comment. “Is he out here visiting?”
“No, not visiting exactly. Alex flew out to consult on a project my company’s been working on. He flies home tomorrow.”
My brows rose in surprise and I tried to temper my curiosity. “The same project that’s had you working at your office for the last twenty-four hours?”
His mouth curved into a wicked smile and he pulled our joined hands up to his mouth to place a kiss on my knuckles. “Did you miss me?”
I licked my lips and smiled at him. “Maybe.”
The limo pulled up to the venue. Roman exited the vehicle and held his hand out to help me out of the car. I absently noted he’d successfully evaded answering my question.
The party was being held at the New York Historical Society in the Patricia D. Klingenstein Library with its spectacular neoclassical architecture, fifty-foot soaring vaulted ceilings, and elaborate stained-glass windows. The room pulsated with almost two hundred people, all of them elegantly dressed, drinking and mingling when Roman and I walked in. To my surprise, Seth shadowed us into the venue, dressed in a tuxedo, and fluidly melted into the crowd.
My gaze swept the room before settling back on Roman—he really did stand out from the crowd. His tall, regal stature, strikingly handsome features, and commanding presence—he was unique and he looked the perfect portrait of sophistication and refinement in his custom-made tuxedo. My God—the man was beautiful.
Roman peered down at me. His stunning midnight-blue eyes narrowed slightly on mine and his top lip twitched in amusement. “What?”
“Nothing…it’s just…you look exceptionally handsome tonight, Mr. Knight.”
He gifted me with a full megawatt smile and his eyes softened. “And you, Miss Gilmore, look exquisitely beautiful.”
I returned his smile and silently congratulated myself on my wardrobe choice for this evening. The dress I had on was a simple form-fitting strapless floor-length gown, entirely made of shimmering silver taffeta. The back of the gown had a flirtatious pleat from the knees down but other than that, the dress was subtly demure and elegantly graceful. I’d bought it last year for a wedding I had attended and although it cost a small fortune, I loved how wearing it made me feel. My blonde, waist-length hair hung in soft, large spirals down my back and I completed the look with a light dusting of make-up.
Roman’s first reaction to seeing me when I’d opened the door to him earlier in the evening sent a wave of toe-curling tingles down my spine. His slow perusal of my body was visceral, heated, and sensually primal—his gaze, not only appreciative but claiming in its intensity.
And now, with the way Roman overtly admired my body in the mist of New York’s elite, I wanted to forget the damn event altogether and rush home to his bed.
Roman bent forward and brushed his lips across mine. “God, I’ve missed you.”
My heartbeat stuttered at the sound of his fervent words against my lips. “I’ve missed you too,” I whispered back as I slid my arms around his neck. His mouth pressed more firmly over mine and in the middle of the New York Historical Society among a crowded room, we made out like two horny teenagers.
“You do know you’re in public, Knight.”
Roman half growled and half groaned—the sound vibrated against my lips. Reluctantly, he drew back an inch from my mouth. “We’ll finish this later, Princess,” he promised, sighed wistfully and then slid his arm firmly around my waist and angled my body firmly beside his.
Roman glared toward the man who’d spoken. I glared toward the man who’d spoken. And then I gaped. Holy shit!
Chapter Twenty
Alexander Roth was almost as blindingly gorgeous as Roman—almost. Like Roman, Alexander was tall—well over six foot. He had honeyed dark blond hair with liberal streaks of pure gold through his thick head of hair and his eyes were the most startling vivid shade of green I’d ever seen. They were twin polished shimmering emeralds, luminous and presently twinkling in mirth at Roman.
The two men earnestly shook hands; both of them wore identically wry grins on their very handsome faces. It was plainly clear from their earnest expressions both men genuinely cared for the other.
“Alex, I’d like you to meet Charlotte Gilmore. My girlfriend.”
Alexander’s brows rose, seemingly surprised at word girlfriend but he recovered quickly and his emerald gaze swung to mine in curiosity. “Charlotte,” he said smoothly as he extended his hand to me in greeting. “A beautiful name for a very beautiful lady.”
“Alex,” growled Roman.
With an eye roll, I ignored Roman and extended my hand to his friend. “Please call me Charli. It’s nice to finally meet you, Alex. Roman speaks very highly of you.”
Alex shot Roman a pointed look. “He does? Interesting…well, don’t believe a word he says.” His large hand enfolded mine in a warm shake.
The three of us casually conversed for what seemed like hours but in reality was only fifteen minutes or so, and I reveled in Roman’s relaxed, carefree mood. Alex obviously brought out the best in him and their light banter was truly comical to observe. However, I’d consumed two glasses of champagne since we’d arrived and I was dying to pee.
Placing my empty glass on a nearby table, I tucked my clutch under my arm. “If you two gentlemen will excuse for a moment.”
Roman’s eyes moved to mine. A small frown creased his brows. “Princess?”
Smiling, I mouthed, Bathroom, and walked as fast as my strapless gown would allow me to the restrooms.
I took care of business, reapplied a light coating of lip-gloss to my lips and returned to the party. As I entered the cusp of the room, in my periphery I caught sight of Alex over by the bar, ordering a drink. Deciding I’d most likely had enough champagne for the evening, I walked over to join him and ordered a soda.
“Hey,” I greeted and placed my purse on the bar.
“Hey yourself, beautiful.” His affable grin
turned into a full-fledged smile and I shook my head at him. Roman was right—Alexander Roth was an incorrigible flirt.
After I gave my order to the barman, I turned and leaned my back against the bar, my gaze sweeping the room. It really was an elegant event, filled with a plethora of elegant people—all of who were dressed in elegant attire.
“I hate these events.” Alex’s deep voice pulled me from my musings and I gave him a sideways glance.
“You do? I’d have thought you would feel right at home at a party like this.”
His answering scoff was self-deprecating. “Fuck no. Can’t stand them. Roman, on the other hand—he was born into the social elite. Events like this one come second nature to him.”
Tilting my head, I studied Alex with open curiosity and processed his words. “So, um…you weren’t born into wealth?”
A dark, troubled shadow fleetingly crossed his handsome features. “Far from it. Let’s just say…I had an entirely different upbringing than the majority of people in this room.”
He swallowed thickly, recovered with a thin smile and not for the first time tonight did I pause to appreciate the uniqueness of his vibrant eyes.
“I was partly raised in the carnival circuit. Perhaps we should swap stories sometimes. You know, try to outdo each other’s childhood stories.” My attempt to lighten the mood worked—his diminutive smile widened and once again my gaze swept the party.
On the far side of the room, I immediately recognized Roman; he stood in profile and looked unbelievably gorgeous. His regal stance and natural confidence made him patently stand out, even in a room full of New York’s wealthy elite. However, as I admiringly ogled his stunning form, I noted his broad back was ramrod stiff, he stood aloof, hands balled into fists at his side and his beautiful midnight-blue eyes were leveled on the man next to him. My focus shifted from Roman to the older man who wasn’t quite as tall as Roman but nearly. He was tanned, fit for his age and a head full of graying hair that once was probably a very deep brown. The elder gentleman looked eerily familiar and yet I was positive I hadn’t met him before.
I nodded with my chin and asked Alex, “Who’s that man with Roman?”
“Hmm…who—oh fuck!” Alex’s words were laced with concern, instantly drawing my eyes to him.
“Do you know him?”
He scoffed. “Yeah, you might say that.” His jaw ground together as he glared in their direction. “That’s Roman’s father, Asher.”
My jaw dropped and I’m sure my eyes widened to the size of hula hoops as my head swiveled back to Roman and his father. Of course—I could see the family resemblance now that it had been pointed out to me. I’m sure I asked the obvious but I wanted to know for certain. “I’m guessing Roman and his dad don’t get along?”
“Understatement of the year, Charli. Roman and his father have never gotten along. Asher is a first rate bastard. And worse—despite him being obscenely wealthy himself—he’s so fucking jealous of his son’s successes that he’d do just about anything to undermine him. Including hiring Roman’s worst enemy.”
I opened my mouth to ask Alex but a bitter-sounding voice to the left of us stopped me. “Roth, don’t tell me you and Knight are now sharing women. What—fucking people together in business not enough for you both?”
Alex aggressively spun to face the owner of the voice. I inhaled a gasp of breath at the implied insult. My lips curled in disgust but then I gasped again when I recognized who’d said it.
“Careful, Gray. Neither Roman nor I would hesitate for one fucking second in taking your worthless ass out of here and giving you the hiding you deserve.” Alex’s voice was low but there was no mistaking the lethal cadence to his tone.
Jonathan Gray appeared completely unperturbed by Alex’s threat. The slimy smirk he threw me made my skin crawl and I shivered. “Charli,” he drawled, his gaze antagonistically sweeping my body. “We meet again.”
“Hmm,” was all I could manage to say. The man gave me the heebie-jeebies and it wasn’t because of the long, jagged scar that ran from his right temple down to his jaw. It was the set of his cold, hard brown eyes and the obvious disdain he had for Roman and Alex and apparently now…me.
“I see you didn’t heed my advice,” he stated.
My brow furrowed in confusion. “What advice was that? I barely remember speaking to you.”
He shrugged and then jutted his chin in Roman’s direction. “Like I said—he’s not who you think he is.” His tone sounded bitter and I, confused, shook my head at him.
“That’s enough,” Alex barked, maneuvering his body between Jonathan’s and mine. “What are you doing here anyway, Jon? I was under the impression Asher fired you when your little coup was unsuccessful.”
Jonathan stiffened at Alex’s words. His face morphed into what only could be described as stark fury. The hands hung casually at his hips fisted into tight balls; his knuckles turned white from the effort. “It’s far from being over, Alex, and you fucking know it. You, Knight, Noah, and Elijah all fucking owe me—”
“We owe you fucking shit,” Alex spat harshly, cutting Jonathan off. “You’ve got to get over it, man—it was fucking years ago.”
“Yeah, it was and you four are living the high life, turning everything you touch into gold and where am I?” Jonathan’s accusatory words were full of resentment. His face was twisted in indignant bitterness.
“And whose fault was that, Jon?” Alex shot back, just as accusatory.
“That’s enough!” The sound of Roman’s voice was like a whip violently cracking into the air.
“Leave, Gray. Now! Or I’ll have you thrown out.” Each single word was delivered like shards of piercing glass through Roman’s gritted teeth.
Jonathan’s jaw clenched. He threw a scathingly withered glare at Roman and then promptly left.
“That guy is still a fucking asshole. Some things never change.” Alex shook his head. He reached for his glass of Scotch and took a long drink.
“Roman.” My eyes sought his; they were clouded with a combination of anger and worry. The line of his jaw was rigid, his lips thin and brows drawn. “What…um…what just happened?”
He carefully considered me for a moment and then slipped an arm around my waist, drew me closer to his side and he murmured, “I’ll tell you later, Princess.”
Later did not come. Along with Alex, Roman and I stayed at the party for another hour or so. The two men casually chatted with other guests, seemingly unaffected by the evening’s drama. However, their stoic features and introverted moods were the polar opposite to the lighthearted banter and amicable conversations of earlier that night.
Roman’s tightly restrained fury decreased marginally when Seth appeared, giving Roman a pointed nod of his head. Whatever was communicated seemed to appease Roman slightly because for the first time in over an hour, Roman seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.
Bending his head, he brushed his lips across my shoulders. “You ready to go home, Princess?”
My gaze sought his and I nodded. “Yeah, let’s get out of here.”
Before saying our farewells to Alex, Roman arranged to meet him in the morning and then we left. A solemn Seth waited outside and ushered us into the limo. With the venue a handful of blocks from Roman’s penthouse, the ride didn’t take long at all; nevertheless, we both sat in weighted silence until the vehicle parked in the underground garage. Silence followed us in the elevator and it wasn’t until we walked into Roman’s living room did I pluck up the nerve to speak.
Kicking off my shoes, I cleared my throat and turned to Roman. “So are you going to tell me what all of that was about tonight?”
Roman’s eyes flickered to mine and then abruptly he walked to the polished mahogany bar and poured himself a sizable glass of Scotch.
“Roman?” I stared hypnotically as he brought the crystal glass to his lips and drank half of its contents.
“No, Charlotte,” he finally said. His gaze focused on the view of Central
Park from the giant wall of glass.
“No? Why not?” My tone was incredulous.
Patiently I waited, but with every passing second, I could feel my patience wear dangerously thin. The whole unfolding drama of this evening’s event was confusing and frightening and disconcerting. Meeting Jonathan Gray in the first class lounge at Venice airport didn’t seemed so coincidental anymore and my earlier premonitions of being followed were strangely tied to this adversary of Roman’s. There obviously was a great deal of animosity if not raw hatred between them and I couldn’t help but feel as if I was now being drawn into it.
Hundreds of questions swirled around like a whirlwind in my head: Why did Jonathan hate Roman and Alex so intensely? What did they do to him? Who were the other men Jonathan mentioned? And what did Roman’s father, Asher, have to do with it all?
Curiosity and fear churned like curdled milk in my stomach until an overwhelming sense of foreboding blanketed my mood.
“Roman, why won’t you tell me?”
He spun around to face me so quickly I flinched at the suddenness, and then I flinched again when I witnessed the remote distance in his eyes. “Because I’m tired, Charlotte. And because Jonathan-fucking-Gray is the last person I wish to discuss tonight.”
I took a slow, calming breath, ignoring the mounting hurt that began to rise in me. “Okay. Will you tell me about your father then?”
He scoffed harshly and looked to the floor. “Christ—Asher and his fucking games. No, Charlotte, I’m not discussing my father with you tonight either. That fucking story would take all night.”
Processing his determined refusal, I gave in to my feelings of hurt. The sting of rejection clouded my rationality. “Fine.” I retrieved my purse and dug around for my cell phone. I’d noticed earlier the battery had died. “Let’s just get ready for bed. I’m tired too.” My voice sounded small and wounded and I tried to hold back the unshed tears.
