Spiraling Deception (32 page)

In the morning, I quietly—so as not to
awaken Sam—showered and dressed for work. All day, I’d gone through
the motions, pretending to be cheerful and cognizant for the sake
of my students. We’d conducted our first spelling bee today and I
was extremely proud of how all my students performed. But now that
they’d gone home for the day, I was determined to confront at least
one of my problems head on.

Lifting my hand to the polished wood-paneled
door, I knocked, hoping the tap sounded confident because gaging by
the swarm of butterflies currently performing the rumba in my
stomach, I was not.

The sound of Mrs. Henderson’s voice filtered
through from her office. “Come in.”

With a deep breath, I strolled in. “Hi, Mrs.
Henderson. I was wondering if you have a few moments?”

She looked up from her desk, slid her
reading glasses down her nose and gestured with a hand to one of
two chairs placed before her desk. “Of course, Miss Gilmore.
Please, have a seat.”

“
Thank you.” I sat, folded
my hands in my lap and willed my breathing under
control.

“
What can I do for
you?”

My lips pursed while I tried to think of a
tactful way to broach the subject. After several long moments, I
sighed in frustration and blurted out my thoughts. “Mrs. Henderson,
I’ve recently learned the only reason I was given the teaching
tenure here at Whitfield’s was in exchange for a large donation
gifted to the school by Roman Knight.”

Mrs. Henderson’s brows shot up and over the
rim of her glasses; her eyes widened in surprise. I could tell by
her expression she hadn’t expected my bluntness.

“
Hmm,” she murmured as she
reclined back in her leather chair. Gracefully, she plucked off her
glasses, placed them on the desk and narrowed her eyes at me in
contemplation.

“
I see,” she finally said
after thoroughly examining my features. “Charli…” she began. It
didn’t escape me that she seldom addressed any of the teaching
staff by the given names. “You’re correct in saying that Mr. Stern
initially offered you the position here because of an incentive
proffered to the school by Mr. Knight.”

My stomach lurched at her words.

“
However,” she clasped her
hands together on the desk, “I’d like to point out to you the
difference between
offer
and
given
. Mr. Stern had asked me
to
offer
you the
position on the provision your qualifications, along with your
disposition, met our criteria. Above all else, Miss Gilmore, we
here at Whitfield Academy put the welfare and education of our
students first and foremost, and that includes above any monetary
contribution.”

Instantly, I felt schooled, taken to task by
the stern reproach of her tone and words. My fingers toyed
nervously with the gold charm bracelet I wore on my wrist as I held
her disapproving gaze. She continued to study me and an awkward
silence ensued but then her eyes softened and she gave me a
sympathetic smile.

“
Charli, we may have
offered you an interview for the position; however, I
gave
you the position
based solely on your merits. You had an impressive grade average in
college, graduating summa cum laude. The references from schools
where you worked as a substitute teacher since graduation were
nothing short of glowing. And combined with your many years of
volunteer service—teaching young children gymnastics—you were the
perfect candidate for the role. You, my dear, were
given
the teaching
tenure because I like you and I believe in you. I admire your
passion for teaching and I respect your dedication to our
profession.”

My eyelids squeezed shut for a brief moment
as I tried to hold back the tears. When I finally had them under
control, I opened my eyes and smiled gratefully at Mrs. Henderson.
In that moment, I felt overwhelmed by her words, by her honesty,
humbled for her belief in me and so damn relieved that I’d earned
my place in this school. I’d been awarded the teaching position
based on me and not on Roman’s money. “Thank you, Mrs. Henderson,”
I said softly.

She smiled warmly. “You’re most welcome,
Charli.”

It was dark when I finally arrived home. I’d
stayed back at school to prepare some of the lesson plans for the
week ahead and around six thirty, I’d caught the subway home.
Richard had been waiting downstairs at the entrance of my apartment
to escort me to work that morning; however, this evening he wasn’t
around when I’d left Whitfield’s. Roman must have decided I wasn’t
in need of his driver/bodyguard anymore now that we’d broken up.
Just the thought of us being over sent a stabbing pain through my
chest.

Fumbling with the keys, I managed to insert
them into the lock, only to discover the door was already unlocked.
Knowing Sam was on night shifts this week at the Roasted Nectar,
the coffee shop where she worked, I frowned and made a mental note
to speak with her about remembering to lock the front door before
she left.

As I entered the dark apartment, I switched
on the light and threw my bag onto the kitchen counter, careful to
avoid the opened wine bottle and half-filled glass that sat by the
sink. This time, I frowned at the bottle of wine and half-drunken
glass as I took off my coat. Surely Sam hadn’t been drinking
mid-afternoon before going off to work.

“
It’s times like these
that definitely call for something stronger than wine—don’t you
agree, Charli? However, seeing as wine is all you have in the
apartment, then I guess it will have to do.”

The familiar voice that resonated from the
small living room startled me; I jumped and released a terrified
yelp. My heart violently lurched into my throat and my pulse sped
as I turned toward the voice. “Jonathan?”

Chapter Twenty-Two

“
W-what are y-you doing
h-here?” My voice came out strangled; my hand flew to my chest. I
could feel my heart pound in my chest, beating in double
time.

He stalked slowly toward me. A malevolent
smirk played across his mouth as he gestured to the wine glass he
held in his hand. “I’d thought I drop by, share a drink or two. Get
to know you a little better.”

His head inclined toward the kitchen sink,
where the other glass of wine sat. “I already took the liberty of
pouring you one, Charli. Please, have a drink.”

Fear saturated every pore of my body; the
hairs of my arms and neck rose in terror and bile climbed up my
throat. “I don’t want a drink, Jonathan, and I don’t remember
inviting you in to my apartment.”

Squaring my shoulders, I mustered all the
courage I could find—which amounted to zero—and cleared my throat,
forcing my voice to be firm. “I didn’t invite you here, Jonathan. I
want you to leave. Now. Before I call the police.”

His answering chuckle was sinister in its
delivery. He casually leaned against the wall and crossed his
ankles. “I’m not going anywhere, Charli, and you’re not going to
call the cops.”

My eyes flickered from Jonathan to the bag
on the counter where my phone was to the entrance of my bedroom and
then to the front door. I could sprint to my bedroom, barricade
myself in, but I’d have to run past his vicinity and he’d likely
catch me. My best chance was the front door situated behind us. If
I could open it fast enough, I could beat him down the stairs.
Jonathan looked like a fit man but I had speed and was nimble
enough that I could slide down the stair rail.

Decision made, I flew for the door but just
as my fingers unlatched the lock and pulled it forward, he caught
me by the long braid of my hair.

“
Fuck!” He yanked
viciously on my braid with one hand as his other slammed the door
closed and flicked the lock.

And for the first time in my life, I cursed
at having long hair. I winced from the sharp sting of pain to my
scalp.

“
That was really fucking
stupid of you, Charli,” he growled. He released his hold on my hair
and gripped both my shoulders. His fingers dug painfully into the
tops of both arms—the strength of his grip was so hard, so
forceful, I knew it would leave bruises. Jonathan propelled me
forward into the living room and roughly pushed me onto the small
sofa.

Through a veil of tears, I warily watched
him retreat, cursing as he rubbed the back of his neck with a
single hand. “W-what are you g-going to do to m-me?” My chin
wobbled and I hated how my words had come out stuttered.
Instinctively, I rubbed where his hands had been on my shoulders,
trying to soothe the pain away.

“
I…don’t know. Nothing.”
He glared at me. His brown eyes were hard, cold and filled with
loathing. He exhaled sharply and shook his head as if he was
attempting to clear his thoughts.

“
Did you know back in
college they called themselves the Alumni of the Phoenix?” He
laughed bitterly to himself. “The name was Noah’s idea—he was
always into the mythological shit. Then Alex came up with the
bright idea of getting tattoos to symbolize their
alliance.”

Too terrified to speak or move apart from
swiping at the tears streaming down my face, I sat perfectly still
and tried to listen carefully to what he was saying. And I noted,
despite him staring directly at me, Jonathan’s eyes appeared to be
slightly unfocused, as if he was remembering something while he
spoke.

If I could only think of a way to distract
him, I might be able to make a break for it again. “And you’re
jealous because they wouldn’t let you be a part of their…group in
college?”

Instantly his gaze
refocused, narrowed on mine and blazed with such intense animosity,
I shivered. “
I
was there at the beginning. It was
me
who introduced Alex and Noah to
Roman to begin with. Then
they
all united together and shut
me
out.”

Jonathan’s hands balled
into fists and he sneered. “You see, Charli, the four of them
formed a pact—a pact where they each backed one another’s financial
interests until collectively, they all became stinking rich. While
they gained obscene wealth and power, I lost everything. They shut
me
out
!” Spittle
flew out of his mouth and he thumped his chest on the last
word.

He paced back and forth in my tiny living
room, shaking his head from side to side like a crazy man. He was
literally crazed—the man was certifiably loony. In that moment, I
didn’t know whether to laugh from hysteria or curl up into a
frightened ball. I was simultaneously terrified out of my wits,
petrified of what he’d do to me, and utterly stupefied by the level
and depth of this idiot’s bitter jealousy.

Before I could do anything, he stopped and
threw me another withering glare. “Can you believe it, Charli?” he
asked.

I didn’t know what he was referring to, so I
just placatingly shook my head at him. What could I do? The man was
certifiable.

“
Back then, in college,
the legendary ruthless Roman Knight had the fucking audacity to
call me unscrupulous. Apparently, I wasn’t good enough for their
little alliance. I wasn’t honorable enough; I was too ruthless.
What a fucking joke! You know, Charli, every single one of those
bastards would kill their own grandmother if they thought it would
close a deal.” His chest heaved from exertion.

Anger surpassed the fear I felt and a
somewhat strangled, disbelieving bark of laughter escaped my lips.
Seriously, the way he kept saying my name was creepy and the
pathetic bullshit he spewed was childish. It was clear Jonathan
Gray was a despicable human being; he was repugnant and ludicrous
and just plain old freaking nuts. At my outburst, his face
contorted with fury and immediately I regretted laughing at him.
But before he could move an inch toward me, a loud pounding sounded
on the front door.

“
Charlotte!” Roman’s voice
thundered from the stairwell.

Seconds later, Seth’s gravelly voice boomed,
“Miss Gilmore, please open the door.”

Jonathan’s eyes flung to the door; my eyes
flung to the door; and then our gazes swung back and collided
together. Both of our expressions most likely mirrored the other’s,
but for two very distinctively opposite reasons. My eyes rounded
with a combination of surprise and overwhelming relief—his were
rounded with incredulity and sheer panic.

Thump! Thump!

“
Open this goddamn door!”
Roman’s voice bellowed.

Thump! Thump!

“
The police are on their
way, Gray,” yelled Seth through the door.

Thump! Thump!

“
I swear, if you’ve hurt
one single hair on her head, I’ll fucking kill you myself, Gray,”
roared Roman.

Simultaneously, three things happened next;
however, my only thought at that moment was the bastard had not
only hurt a hair—he’d hurt my whole fucking scalp. Absently, my
fingers rubbed soothingly through the strands on the top of my
head.

With an almighty crash, Roman and Seth both
barreled through the front door of the apartment, splintering the
wooden frame of the door in their wake. Jonathan took off like
lightning and hurtled himself through the living room window and
down the fire escape, with Seth close on his heels. Roman lunged
for me and gathered me into his arms. His eyes frantically scanned
every inch of my body as his hands skimmed gently over me,
presumably looking for injuries.

An immensely overpowering sense of gratitude
swept over me and I unabashedly climbed Roman’s body like a tree.
Every one of my limbs coiled around his big, solid, muscular form
and I hung on to him like a frightened baby chimpanzee. My face
planted into the crook of his neck and I momentarily paused to
inhale the safe, musky aroma of his scent before I sobbed
uncontrollably.