The Mischievous Mrs. Maxfield

by Ninya Tippett

  “I might cause Clyde a trip to the psych ward when he sees my pictures in the paper,” I murmured, resigned to the fact that the morning-after-wild-sex-during-a-crazy-concert-party-look was the best my hair could manage.

  I studied my face in the mirror and decided that I didn’t look too bad.

  A little unruly but passable—if you didn’t mind the mussed-up hairstyle.

  Accept it, Charlotte. Some women are just born with it all—gorgeous genes, grace and the good luck not to be targeted by overzealous Laylalistas.

  I normally wasn’t so hard on myself about lacking in some things but then I didn’t often find myself measured up against someone like Simone Clark, for example, who must’ve been born without a single baby hair out of place.

  Twinkies can never beat the chocolate mousse cake. The concept alone is far too basic to aspire to be something as sophisticated as the latter. It’s a matter of fate—it’s pre-ordained. Twinkies don’t grow to become chocolate mousse cake.

  I let out a loud sigh and forced myself to stop making the situation worse.

  I already felt like a wet, awkward duck with rumpled feathers. The last thing I needed was to force myself to stand next to a beautiful swan.

  I don't even know why we tell ourselves that ugly ducklings will someday grow into beautiful swans. They're not even the same animal. It's currently a genetic impossibility.

  Done with my business, I made my way back to the gardens.

  Not wanting to call attention to myself, I went through a detour I discovered on an earlier trip to the powder room. It went past the lush, well-manicured shrubs and flower beds that surrounded a private, romantic gazebo. It was a longer walk but it didn’t have much traffic, if any at all.

  With the day I was having, I needed a few moments of peace and clear-thinking.

  “...not someone you should set your heart on. He’s going to hurt you...”

  “...like you hurt me? Why should I... can't blame me!... if you’d come to see me... would’ve made a different choice...”

  “... didn’t push you into his arms, Simone.”

  “... when you left me... that girl!... thought we wouldn’t give up what we had!”

  I froze as the intense exchange between two familiar voices cleared something very different in my head.

  The angry, agitated man sounded very much like Brandon—and the frustrated, emotional woman sounded very much like Simone.

  My heart dropped into my stomach, and despite my sudden urge to flee as fast as possible, my feet couldn’t move an inch.

  It was altogether different when Simone was just speaking to Brandon on the phone—the physical distance gave me a sense of safety. She couldn't be there, available for him to drool over, to remind him of what he'd given up and what he'd settled with.

  Brandon didn't settle with you. He chose you. You know this.

  It wasn't something I should be questioning.

  He'd laid his heart out open to me when he admitted his feelings.

  A guy who was settling with what fate dealt him wouldn't have made the declaration he did.

  But it was hard not to wonder sometimes if it happened merely because I was the one he spent time with—that our marital business arrangement put us together in such close quarters there was no helping it.

  I knew my feelings for him started from afar and from a few years ago.

  Brandon didn't even know I existed until his father gave him the ultimatum.

  And he was still enjoying his decadent chocolate mousse cake to worry about any other kind of dessert—especially the ordinary ones.

  I needed to get a grip.

  I needed to trust in what Brandon and I had—in our most unexpected truth amidst our biggest lie—and walk away.

  If he had something to sort out with Simone, I had to trust that he would do it in a way that didn't compromise what we had.

  Trust, Charlotte. You took a risk in loving Brandon. Give him a chance to earn it.

  It was always easier said than done.

  Despite my many friendships with people, I was wary about trusting my heart to someone who claimed to love me.

  My mother walked away.

  My father wasted away.

  In the end, they did the same thing.

  They left similar-looking scars.

  Brandon's different. He's the good prince. And he chose you to be his princess.

  "You can get out of this, Brand," I heard Simone say and I couldn't help but inch closer to the tall shrub that blocked me from their view. "Tell your Dad you went along with this plan because she'd forced your hand. At least when this blows up, the most you'll suffer is a long lecture from Martin."

  I sucked in a breath and held it in, waiting for what Brandon would say.

  It would hardly be any difficulty for him to go along with Simone's suggestion. I knew that despite the contract we signed, Brandon could turn this all around and place the blame on me.

  Knowing how big Martin’s heart was when it came to his children, he probably wasn’t going follow through on his threats to Brandon when this all blows up.

  And it was going to blow up.

  Simone and Francis knew the truth.

  Knowing how either of them felt about us, it didn't require psychic powers to guess where they were heading with our secret.

  When Brandon started to speak, his voice was low and solemn. "When this blows up, I will still be very happily married to my wife and you will be completely ripped out of my life, Simone, if you're playing a hand in all of this."

  Simone gasped, and her voice came out trembling. "I'm not playing a hand in any of this, Brand, as hard as that may be for you to believe. I'm just warning you of what I know is going to happen—for the sake of what we shared, and because I care about you. There are people who want to see you unhappy and becoming besotted with your bride makes you a much easier target. She's been been your downfall from the moment you met her but you're too infatuated to see that."

  My heart pounding, I forced myself to keep quiet even at Simone's pronouncement.

  I wanted to defend myself, the precious love Brandon and I found amidst the lies and fabrications, but somewhere in my consciousness was a small voice that agreed with her.

  Brandon knew from day one that the plan was full of holes and risks. It was like a time bomb slowly ticking away, waiting to destroy us unless we could figure out a way to diffuse it.

  The fact that it was a lot of money and a lot of risks hadn’t stopped Brandon.

  I always knew, somewhere in the back of my mind, what my biggest reason was for accepting Brandon’s offer. The money was good and all but had it come from anyone else, I wouldn’t have done it. The fact that it was Brandon asking made the biggest difference and I could now admit that more freely.

  Why he made the offer he did and persisted with it until I agreed, I didn’t really know until he confessed to me at the beach house.

  ‘I had no intention of marrying you at all—not even temporarily. When I saw you, those plans shifted into something else and I ended up proposing a marriage of mutual convenience, which was crazy enough considering how much we disliked each other at first.’

  The memory of Brandon’s words brought a brief smile to my face, knowing how that first meeting must’ve driven him crazy since Brandon liked his well-organized plans and sticking to them.

  I would give up half of my newly-acquired fortune to know what went through Brandon’s head during our first meeting—to know what he chose not to say despite saying a whole boat-load of rude things that day.

  So you see, Brandon hasn’t exactly been as clear-eyed and logical about you since the day you met. Chances are, things turned out the way they did because something made him abandon his original plan that first day your two worlds collided. You’ve both been stumbling forward together, steered by your feelings. Simone’s right in that regard.

  It didn’t mean though that just because Brandon discarded his typical careful plann
ing, I was setting him up to fail.

  I may not have been what anyone would prescribe him as the perfect society wife but then I wasn’t a society wife.

  I’m just simply Brandon’s wife.

  “I don’t expect you to cheer me on, Simone, after hurting you as I did,” came Brandon’s slow, gentle reply. “But I will not give up Charlotte—not when she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Whoever has a quarrel with me can give it their best shot but they ought to know that if there’s anyone I’d protect fiercely, it’s my wife.”

  My heart felt like a melting chocolate bar at Brandon’s words.

  I stepped out from behind the bush to declare my presence and stand by Brandon’s side but just as I opened my mouth to speak, Simone opened hers too—except that it headed straight for my unsuspecting husband and landed smack on his frown.

  Her arms had come around Brandon’s neck as he took a step back from her, his hands grasping her by the shoulders to wrench her away.

  Well. Either she’s dying and requiring mouth-to-mouth resuscitation or she’s trying to find Brandon’s heart through his esophagus.

  Simone had put her full weight forward, her body almost on a near-perfect diagonal, that Brandon had to hold her by the shoulders to keep from dropping her to the ground—which, in my opinion, wasn’t a bad thing to do considering the circumstances.

  They both sputtered out words at the same time.

  “Brand, please... I—”

  “I can’t do this with you, Simone—”

  My heart clenched with the jealousy that streaked sharply through me and I reminded myself that I needed to tread carefully.

  “If you need to keep your mouth busy all the time, I heard there’s a few different careers for that,” I said slowly and evenly, looking directly at Simone as she and Brandon sprung apart.

  Okay, it was more like Brandon dropped her like hot potato as he took a step back while Simone, ever graceful, stumbled forward a little before catching her balance.

  Brandon was scowling (better not be at me) and Simone was watching me, wide-eyed and nervous.

  I was sorely tempted to have it out with the woman.

  I had sympathized with her because if it weren’t for me, Brandon would probably still be with her. I had gone the nice, civil route at first, because I didn’t want bloodshed where one wasn’t necessary, and I had no quarrel with her.

  Despite all the animosity I received from the Championettes, which was partly due to their loyalty to Layla who in turn, owed hers to Simone, I withheld my temper (as best as I could manage anyway) but this latest stunt was just going a little too far.

  “Charlotte, it’s not what you think,” Brandon said slowly.

  I smirked. “Oh, trust me, Brand. It’s exactly what I think.”

  I turned my narrowed gaze back to Simone. “Like Brandon, I’m sorry that we hurt you by the things that have happened and our decisions that accompanied them. I’m sorry, but I’m not stupid or spineless to let you throw yourself like this at my husband.”

  Simone’s eyes darkened with a storm of emotions as she pressed her lips together so tightly they temporarily disappeared from her face.

  “I won’t stand for it, Simone,” I continued with perfect calm and poise. “The next time I see you inflicting yourself on my husband like that, I will happily extricate you bodily myself. Let me assure you that while I’m fun-sized, I can be quite ferocious if the occasion calls for it.”

  I ignored the quick flash of a grin on Brandon’s face that I saw in the corner of my eye. Instead, I focused all my intimidation on the woman next to him who stonily stared back at me.

  “I hope you realize that you deserve more than what you hope to find with Brandon,” I added, gently this time, knowing that there was much about what Brandon and I shared that could be envied. “Someday, you’ll meet a man who will love you with his whole heart and make you happy. When you do, you’ll understand why I’ll fight to the death anyone who dares to take him away from me.”

  And with that, I turned around and strode away, barely noticing Brandon shout my name as I marched my way back to the party.

  “Charlotte! Wait up!”

  In the space of a few seconds, Brandon reached my side, jogging slightly to keep up with my rapid steps.

  “Not right now, Brand,” I said shortly. “Give me a few minutes to rid my brain of the image of you and Simone kissing.”

  “We weren’t kissing,” he replied. “She was kissing me.”

  I rolled my eyes, never breaking my pace. “Oh, pardon me. I just need a few minutes to rid my brain of the image of yours and Simone’s mouth having physical contact. Is that technical enough for you?”

  “Charlotte, don’t be angry,” he persisted, catching me by the elbow to halt my march. We were just at the edge of the main gardens, still mostly out of earshot from the guests.

  “I only sought her out to confront her about telling Francis but she claims she didn’t say anything to him—that he learned it on his own and has some kind of proof.”

  “She also claimed that she wasn’t that desperate to try and sleep with you but I’m pretty sure that kissing has led to the act several million times during the course of human history,” I retorted. “So forgive me if I have some trouble believing any claim Simone’s made recently.”

  Brandon sighed. “You don’t have to but I’ll be personally relieved if she’s telling the truth. I hate thinking she would betray me like that.”

  A pang of jealousy hit me for the second time in the last ten minutes and this time, it had the impact of a giant gong.

  “Of course, you do,” I bit out through gritted teeth. “Simone’s so wonderfully perfect, she can do no wrong.”

  God! I hated sounding so petty about it but I couldn’t quell my prickling insecurities at the moment, despite knowing better.

  The sight of them lip-locking must've caused a screw to temporarily come loose in my head.

  Brandon frowned. “Charlotte, you know that’s not what I mean.”

  “Really?” I snapped. “Because I can’t think of how else you meant it, Brand. Are you sure it’s not her you’re so infatuated with, you can’t think straight and realize that she’s perfectly capable of doing what’s necessary to get what she wants?”

  Brandon's face was creased with frustration. “I’m sorry if what you saw upset you but you shouldn’t let it worry you, Charlotte. Nor should you fret over the possibility that Simone is out to tear us apart.”

  My temper exploded, jealousy coloring the rational part of my brain a bright, hazy red. “Why wouldn’t she? She lost you—to me, of all people! If we discover she has an altar with pictures of me red-X’d on the head and a map with my grave plotted on it, I wouldn’t be surprised. Unless you consider that possibility, you’ll be caught off guard.”

  “I know what you’re saying,” Brandon said with a weary sigh. “But I’ve known Simone for years. I’m inclined to believe her when she insists she didn’t out us to my cousin.”

  My eyes narrowed. “Is it the years of friendship, Brand, or is it the many steamy nights you spent in bed with her, that inspire your trust?”

  I almost bit my tongue off with that comment.

  My temper was getting out of hand, my comments becoming sharper and more hurtful.

  While I often gave people the benefit of the doubt, I became wary once they’d burned me once or twice.

  “You’re not usually this bitter about people,” Brandon remarked quietly, his jaw clenching.

  "Of course not," I snapped. "It's the first time I've ever had something I can't survive losing. I'm scared shitless."

  Brandon's eyes softened and his mouth relaxed, a ghost of a smile touching his lips.

  My heart ached, my arms itching to wrap around him.

  This day was making a turn for the worse and I just wanted to press up against him and have him hold me.

  But with the certainty of where Brandon and I now stood in each other's l
ives came new doubts about when this seeming dream was going to snap back to reality.

  So you're not used to good things happening to you. You're not used to being happy. Now that you are, you're having a hard time believing it. You can't stop dreading the eventual loss. You can't stop fearing you'll never be enough.

  I swallowed hard, unable to stop the questions anyway. "Tell me something, Brand. Do you prefer Twinkies over a chocolate mousse cake?”

  Brandon’s dark brows knitted together in confusion. “Um, not really.”

  I snorted despite expecting no different answer. “Of course, not. You’d prefer the more sophisticated choice. Comfort food’s for the miserable."

  A moment of silence passed before Brandon's hazel eyes pierced me with understanding.

  "Charlotte, stop comparing yourself to Twinkies," he said with an exasperated sigh. "You're not a dessert treat."

  I ignored him, too carried away now to hold back until my point's been made. "Everyone loves Twinkies but they're not what you show off when company's coming."

  He frowned. "If you're the one feeding the company, I say you get the choice on what to serve them."

  I rolled my eyes. "You're not getting the point, Brand."

  "What point?" he demanded, his voice rising. "That you think yourself too ordinary? It's the value you place in something that determines its worth to you. Twinkies may be perfectly ordinary but I'd value it over every other kind of dessert treat if it's what makes me the happiest. It's what it means to me that elevates it from everything else. You could serve me chocolate mousse cake all you like but if Twinkies is what my heart desires, then Twinkies is my choice."

  I blinked, my mouth going round in surprise and utter speechlessness.

  Then I looked away to avoid bursting into tears.

  Well. Battle Dessert's been won. Now, if only you didn't feel like a total jerk.

  "Baby, look at me," Brandon murmured, softly this time, as his arms came around me.

  "I'm looking at you."

  "You're looking at my shoulder."

  I sniffed. "It's a very nice shoulder. I don't look at it often enough. It might feel deprived."

  His laugh was low and husky, reminding me of the times when we would playfully make love. "I have another body part that's demanding attention but I want you to do more than stare at it so I'm not going to show it to you here."