by Anna Mara
"What happened?" Thomas Greer questioned.
There were no gasps in the room and no one was passing judgment on Bill. At one point or other, they had all been there and would probably be there again.
"I had a martini thrown in my face," Bill replied.
"By a woman, Bill?" someone in the audience piped up.
"Yeah." Everyone laughed. Bill continued, "I almost took a taste. It was so close… and I wanted to so badly…"
"But you didn't," Jake confirmed.
"No. I jumped in the pool to wash it off."
Again, everyone in the room laughed and some even clapped.
* * *
Click!
Tucked into her luxurious, wrought iron four-poster bed, Christina had just heard Bill's bedroom door open and close shut. She looked at her bedside clock. Bloody hell! 4:10 a.m.!
Where had he been until 4:10 a.m.? With that rich bitch, that's where! Christina closed her eyes again and tried to go back to sleep. She'd get him tomorrow. She'd get him good.
Chapter 22
Christina looked at her watch. 7:30 a.m. So, lover boy had probably only had about three hours sleep so far, had he? That was enough.
She was standing outside his bedroom door, dressed and ready for her day. And he, lazy bum that he was, was probably in there, sleeping. From what she'd gleaned from the staff at breakfast, Bill would probably sleep until noon before getting up. He apparently always came home very late and slept all morning. Well not today! She'd make sure of that.
Christina knocked on his door and waited for an answer.
Nothing.
She knocked again.
Silence.
Gingerly, she tried the doorknob and it turned. Should she go in? Why the hell not? She was supposed to be his fiancée anyway, in case anybody saw her.
She pushed the door open.
There he was—in bed, sprawled on his back, naked to the waist with the top sheet covering his lower half—and in a very deep sleep. Christina stomped in and shut the door.
Furious, she studied him. Look at how relaxed he looked, that bastard, she thought to herself. He must have had a good night while she had had to endure hours of torturous questioning by his relentless father. Christina's anger went up another notch.
"Bill? Bill Havenwood?" Christina loudly gritted through her teeth.
There was no response. He was, obviously, in a very deep sleep—a drunken deep sleep, no doubt. And look at how good he looked—with his hair ruffled like that and his naked muscular chest rising and falling ever so gently as he softly breathed in and out.
Christina approached the bed and peered into his handsome face. He looked so rested—probably from all the cheap sex he'd had last night with that Stephie. Christina's anger suddenly went through the roof.
"Hey! You!" She poked his chest with a hard finger. "Wake up!"
Bill made a soft moaning sound but didn't awaken.
Christina was seeing red—and green—with fleeting thoughts of him and Stephie together, in each other's arms while she'd been trying to save him from his inquisitive father.
She looked around his chocolate brown room. On a tall pedestal by the window, sat an ornately decorated Oriental vase. It looked expensive and perfectly suited for what she had in mind. Crossing the room, she picked it up and took it to Bill's private bathroom. She filled it up with water and carried it back to the bed.
Then—with one good swing—Christina suddenly launched all the water in it at Bill's sleeping form. Whoosh!
The water landed on his face, on his chest, on his bed. With a startled gasp, Bill bolted upright.
"What… the… fuck!" he yelled as, dazed, he looked around the room trying to get his bearings. Water dripped from his face and chest, and his hair was plastered to his head. A water stain was slowly creeping outwards on his top sheet, soaking the bed even further.
Breathing heavily, his eyes focused on Christina who was standing in front of him holding his treasured Ming Vase.
She threw the expensive item at his chest and he anxiously caught it with both hands.
"This is your piss pot, I believe," she enunciated through gritted teeth.
Bill was stunned. "What… is going on here?" he yelled at her.
With hands on her hips, Christina yelled back, "Next time you want to party all night, leave word with me so that I can make arrangements not to be here all alone stuck with your father and having to make excuses for your sorry ass."
Bill wiped the water from his face. "What are you talking about?"
"Last night was my first night here in this godforsaken gilded cage and you left me all alone to deal with your overbearing father. Do you know how many questions I had to answer at dinner?" Christina began to parrot William's questioning. "How many children do you want? When do you want to get married? What do you mean you don't know where your fiancé is? That's strange. Why don't you know?" She re-focused her angry eyes back to Bill's wet face. "I went through hell last night having to answer for you to your goddamn family and you didn't even bother to call me to let me know you weren't going to show up!"
Bill looked at her furious face. She was steaming mad and her fury was being hurled at him in full force. Boy, did she look hot!
He took a deep breath. "Christina, I did call you. I left a message on your answering machine at your apartment."
"Well, I didn't get it." Still livid, Christina crossed her arms in front of her. "Yesterday was very hectic for me having to pack and move to this billionaire hellhole."
"Look, I'm sorry. I said on the message that I wouldn't be here and for you not to have dinner with my father, to plead a headache or something and I would square things with him today."
Christina studied his pleading face. Was he telling her the truth? Had he left her the message? Some of the steam went out of Christina but she was still angry with him.
Bill sensed the indecision in her and he quickly threw the sheet off and jumped up from the wet bed. Wearing only a pair of boxers, he stood in front of her still cradling the expensive vase in his arms.
"I'm sorry but I'll make sure that from now on you'll know when I'm going to be late so that we can co-ordinate our stories for my old man, okay?" He held out his hand to her as if he wanted to shake on the deal but she ignored it.
"Don't let it happen again," she decreed highhandedly.
Bill gave her a slight smile of admiration. She really did look cute when she was trying to be bossy.
"Did you get my present?" he questioned.
"What present?"
"Samson."
"Samson? You left me Samson?" Christina was floored. She thought William had left the little goldfish.
Bill nodded. "I know we're all strangers to you here, and I wanted you to have at least one friend in this house that you could trust completely."
Christina's mouth actually fell open. She quickly shut it. That was just about the nicest, sweetest, most thoughtful thing anybody had ever done for her—and it had been Bill Havenwood who'd done it!
He wasn't supposed to be like that. He was a selfish, drunken, party boy who stepped over people for kicks. He was her enemy and he had no right to be nice. No right at all!
She looked into his smiling eyes. "You… you… asshole!" she yelled at him before storming out the door.
Now it was Bill's mouth to gape open in shock. What had he said?
* * *
Christina marched down the huge staircase, still fuming to herself. As she reached the bottom, she spotted the day's mail on the foyer table. Picking up the pile, Christina rifled through the stack. Junk mail, bills, letters and—there it was—her blackmail letter to Bill Havenwood. Christina smiled to herself. The real games were now about to begin.
Chapter 23
An hour later, Christina was walking the estate grounds, I talking to Jenny on her cell phone.
"Oh Jenny," she giggled, "When she slapped him in front of the whole restaurant, it was… magical."
Jenny was at work at Streetwise; and she was giggling too. "I'm sure he deserved it."
"He did, the cad." Christina confirmed. "Anyway, I'm coming into the city tonight, so let's have dinner."
"Great, come by for some mac and cheese. Bet you can't get that at the Havenwood's."
Christina laughed again, "I'll be there."
* * *
Bill had been watching her from his upstairs bedroom window.
He had showered and dressed, but was still very tired from his late night. He usually slept until noon on the nights he was busy with GME meetings like last night but this morning he'd found it difficult going back to sleep, considering he'd had a pot of water thrown on him.
He smiled at the thought of it. Wow, had she ever been angry with him but his domineering father did have that effect on people and if you weren't used to it, as he was, then you could find it overwhelming.
Bill watched her walk the grounds, laughing as she talked on her cell phone. God, she looked beautiful—like an angel—and mesmerized, he couldn't take his eyes off of her.
But who the hell was she talking to? Was it her boyfriend?
Was it one of her 'relationships'? Bill was suddenly in a fit to find out.
* * *
Bill reached the bottom of the stairs just as Christina was coming back inside the house.
She defiantly looked at him, "I'm not apologizing, you know."
"Didn't ask you to but you could thank me," he parried.
Christina was aghast. "For what?"
"For Samson."
Christina eyed Bill with disdain. So, 'Samson' had been a thoughtful gesture, so what? Probably part of his plan to keep her in line in their devious scheme. No—she'd never thank him—for anything.
Christina shifted her eyes from his face to the foyer table. "Is this today's mail?" She innocently picked up the stack. "Hope you don't mind but I'm having my mail forwarded here."
"Why would I mind?"
She began to rifle through the pile and Bill watched her with hungry eyes—the eyes of someone who can see what they want right in front of them but can't quite have it.
"I saw you talking on your cell outside. Was it your boyfriend?" Bill blurted out, as if he couldn't help himself.
Christina looked up from the letters. "My boyfriend? Why do you think it was my boyfriend?"
Bill experienced what felt like a punch in the gut. So she did have a boyfriend! "Just a hunch," he tried to sound casual but failed miserably.
"Well, I don't ask you about your special friends so you don't ask about mine, okay?"
Bill wasn't going to be put off that easily. He'd ask again tonight. "I've rescheduled some appointments so I'll be home for dinner tonight. You won't have to put up with my father alone."
"Sorry but I've got plans."
"With your boyfriend?" Bill accused.
God, he was beginning to sound pathetic even to his own ears, like some jealous high school geek who was being rejected by the most popular girl in class. That had never happened to him in his entire life—ever!
"Are you going to answer me?" he pressed on, when Christina didn't answer. High school geek be damned, he just had to know.
Christina gave him an enigmatic Mona Lisa smile—neither confirming nor denying. She lowered her eyes back to the mail. "Here's one for you." She casually handed him her 'blackmail letter' and went back to rifling through the mail.
With his mind on her 'boyfriend', he absentmindedly ripped the envelope open and then—froze. In his hands, was a letter with the words "Liar, Liar, Pants On Fire" pasted on it with letters cut out of a magazine. He blanched and quickly scanned the envelope for a return address. There was none.
Who'd sent this? And what did they want? Money, obviously. This was an extortion letter but who'd done this? Did they know about his phony engagement scam or worse… did they know about his involvement with The Guardians of Mother Earth?
Christina saw the color drain out of his face. "Anything wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost," she asked as if she cared.
With worried eyes, Bill looked at her. "No, everything's fine." He quickly stuffed the letter into his jacket.
Bingo!
And that's when Christina knew for sure that he had more secrets than their phony love match. If the only secret Bill had was their engagement scheme, he would have shown her the letter and they would have compared notes on who could have sent it.
But he hadn't. He had acted guilty and hidden the letter away from her. And that meant that "Liar, Liar, Pants On Fire" had been telling many lies about many different things—and he just didn't know which 'lies' the blackmail letter was referring to it. Now all Christina had to do was find out what they were.
At that moment, Bentley, the head butler, approached the couple and handed Bill a portable phone. "Telephone for you, sir. It's Mr. Havenwood."
"Thank you, Bentley." Bill took the phone and mumbled "Hello, dad" into the receiver. He paused to listen to what his father had to say and then exclaimed in a frustrated voice, "No… I wasn't still sleeping! I've been up for awhile."
Cristina couldn't help giggling. William certainly knew his son well. She refocused on the one-sided conversation she was hearing.
"Okay, I'll ask her." Bill paused. "All right then, we'll be there!" exasperated, he shouted into the phone. Hanging up, he turned to Christina. "My father wants to see us in his office this afternoon."
"What about?"
Bill shrugged his shoulders, "Wouldn't say but we'll find out what that devious swine is up to. I'll pick you up at 1."
"No thanks. I'll meet you there myself. Your father said I could have the use of the BMW. Wasn't that thoughtful of him?"
"Yes, he's so lovable," Bill sarcastically chimed in.
Chapter 24
The private elevator was whisking Christina to the top inner sanctum of the Fido Foods office building. When she'd arrived ten minutes ago, she had had to cross the GME picket line outside the building where other media had been filming the spectacle too.
Teddy, the GME protester she'd spoken to last week, recognized her and yelled out, "Hey, honey, you haven't crossed over to the dark side, have you?"
"I don't take sides, Teddy. I only photograph the truth," Christina shouted back.
"Well, come back and photograph this… my salute to those greedy Havenwood bastards." He threw his middle finger up in the air, indicating a "screw-you" type of gesture. The other protesters followed suit.
Christina laughed, "I'll come back with my camera, I promise."
Teddy yelled, "Yeah, all right," and threw a victorious clenched fist up in the air.
Christina had then entered the glass and steel building, been cleared through security and had been ushered by a guard to William's private elevator.
As the elevator doors opened into William's private offices, Christina felt like she was entering the Holy of Holies. She'd been greeted by Charlotte, William's private secretary and had been invited to take a seat on the opulent couch. 'It would only be a moment', she'd been told, 'would she like some coffee or tea?' Christina shook her head no and thanked Charlotte.
Sitting on the plush sofa, Christina was now able to take a better look at her lavish surroundings. Everything about the place screamed taste and money—lots and lots of money.
The elevator doors opened again and Bill walked out, gorgeous and debonair as usual. The bastard didn't have a hair out of place. Christina stood up as he made a beeline for her.
He smiled. "You look lovely, darling." He secretly rolled his eyes indicating that Charlotte was watching and began to bend down as if to give her a kiss.
Not bloody likely, Christina thought to herself, as she put a restraining hand on his arm. Kissing for his father's sake was one thing but kissing for everybody else? No way in hell!
"Sweetheart, I think I'm catching a cold. Don't get too close or you'll… get it… too," she emphasized the words 'get it' as if to warn him of the consequenc
es of foisting himself on her.
He understood the message and backed off. "I'll have to take better care of you, honey bunch," he teased before turning to the secretary. "Is he ready for us, Charlotte?"
"Yes, sir. Go right in," she replied, as she watched the couple closely.
Bill knocked on William's door and on hearing his father say, "Come in," he took Christina's elbow and ushered her in.
William was sitting behind his ornate desk and there was a woman of about fifty seated opposite him on one of the wingback chairs. They both rose.
"Mindy, this is my son Bill and his beautiful fiancée, Christina Matteo soon to be a Havenwood," he announced proudly.
They all shook hands.
William continued, "Bill, Christina… this is Mindy Soames." He paused for effect. "Your wedding planner."
Both Bill and Christina swiveled shocked eyes at him.
"Our… what?" Christina stammered.
William came around the desk and put a fatherly arm on Christina's shoulders as he led her to a couch.
"Mindy is going to help you plan your wedding, Christina, my love." He pushed a stunned Christina down before taking a seat himself.
Bill began to protest, "But dad…"
"Sit," he ordered Bill as he pointed to a chair opposite the couch. Bill did as he was told.
Mindy, carrying a folder of papers, took the other chair beside Bill's and began her presentation. "Now Miss Matteo… may I call you Christina by the way?" Bewildered, Cristina nodded her consent. Mindy began to read off of a notepad. "St. Patrick's has been booked for six weeks from this Saturday as has the country club. The couture house of Baldora has been advised and they're waiting for your arrival. The flowers…"
"Excuse me, but…what are you talking about?" Christina had finally come out of her stupor.
"Your wedding arrangements," Mindy clarified.
"My… what?"
William jumped in, "Your wedding, Christina. It's all been arranged—the church, the reception, your dress. All that's left is that you need to decide your menu, the invitations have to be chosen and your bridesmaids, and oh…" he snapped his fingers as if remembering something, "Mindy needs your guest list from your side of the family and you'll have to be registered and choose your china pattern and your honeymoon destination…"