by Shayne Ford
“Would you like more coffee, Sir?” asks the butler, unfazed.
I lift my finger.
“I’m good. You can leave now.”
The man retreats smoothly, closing the double door behind him.
My fingers clasp together, my eyes following Jacqueline as she rounds the table and takes a seat at the other end.
She wears a blue dress, high heels, and a red scarf. Long earrings dangle from her ears.
She seems in a good mood. I bet it all has to do with the contents of that envelope.
We lock eyes briefly before she tips her chin down, motioning with her finger at the patch of yellow paper.
“You wanted proof,” she says, smiling wickedly as she fidgets in her seat.
Unperturbed, I bring the cup of coffee to my lips and slowly sip.
Grinning from ear to ear, she slides a cup of fruit in front of her and starts to eat.
She gestures again, with her fork this time.
“Aren’t you curious?”
“Why would I be? ”
She huffs.
“You thought that you could outsmart me. Look at the evidence, Sebastien. You wanted it. Now you have it. You can no longer deny your affair with that woman. And sure as hell you won’t be able to stop me from filing for divorce. I could do it the first thing, Monday morning. There is nothing you can do to stop me. And once the divorce is final, you can kiss your money goodbye.”
The hatred darkens her face, crumpling her beauty.
“Your little minx is right there...” she says, flicking her fork again. “Hot and bothered in her birthday suit. What were you thinking fucking her across the street? Next to the window nonetheless?”
She locks my eyes for a moment. I don’t bat a lash.
A twisted smile creases her lips.
“Oh... And by the way,” she says, tipping her gaze down as she picks a piece of pineapple from her fruit cup. “I spoke with our accountant. Your company acquired the property across the street a few months back. You never said a word to me.”
She sears me with her gaze again, pausing for a few moments, hoping to hear a comment.
I remain silent.
She shifts her eyes back to her plate, gesturing dismissively.
“Keep your mouth shut for all I care. Your secrets no longer interest me. All I wanted is right there,” she says, flicking her fork in the direction of the envelope. “I finally have everything I need. I couldn’t have asked for better proof. Her legs wrapped around your waist. You fucking her. Well done, Sebastien. Can you imagine what a field day the press would have if your little secret would be accidentally leaked?”
A small laugh gurgles in her throat.
“Not only that... Can you imagine how many people would be rooting for me? Their sympathy soaring for me. I can already see the headlines. Rich heiress betrayed by the ruthless billionaire. Juicy bits on page six. That, my darling, would be a publicity disaster for you.”
Calmly, I set the cup of coffee down.
“You said you could file for divorce. What’s stopping you?” I ask, swinging my gaze up.
A smile beaming with satisfaction slides onto her lips.
She sets the fork down and leans back against the seat.
“Now, we’re talking, dear husband.”
Her smile drops, her features glazed with hatred.
“I want to give you the opportunity to fix all this,” she says icily.
It’s my turn to smile.
“Hmm... Really? And why would you need me to fix anything if all you want is a divorce?”
“Because I don’t want it,” she barks. “And you already know that. I’ve never planned to file for divorce.”
“Hmmm. I see. But rather to keep me under control.”
“I never called it that. All I wanted was what any wife wants from her husband.”
“A husband who has the barrel of a gun pointed to his head.”
“A husband shouldn’t fuck other women.”
My jaw clenches.
“I never fucked other women,” I retort, my voice strained.
Her hands flick up.
“Then why did it bother you so much?”
I smile. And try to look relaxed.
This clearly leads nowhere.
“So what exactly would you like from me, Jacqueline?”
Her lips press in a tight line for a moment.
“I want you to dump her. And I want her evicted from our building. The last thing I want is to see her face, especially after this...”
She taps the envelope with her index finger before she slides it over to me.
I pick it up.
“There’s no reason to evict her,” I say dryly without looking at her.
Slowly, I retrieve the pictures.
A few moments of silence tick by.
“I’ll give you what you want,” I say curtly after I check the pictures briefly.
I flick my gaze up.
Shock and surprise read on her face.
“Don’t play games with me, Sebastien.”
“I’m not,” I say, sliding the photographs back into the envelope. “You get what you want,” I add, my eyes holding hers.
Cold, unwavering.
I study her for a moment.
“I expect you to put Stephan on notice too,” I say.
She stays mum.
“Good. Now that we settled this I need to get back to work,” I say, pushing out of my chair, the envelope in my hand.
Without another word, I pull away.
I feel her stare on my back all the way to the door. I slide it open before I pivot slightly and glance at her.
“Don’t you have anything to do? A phone call to make?” I ask, cocking an eyebrow.
She finally jerks out of her paralysis.
“Um, yes... I do.”
“Good.”
With that, I walk out and slam the door closed.
Moments later, I saunter into my office.
I toss the envelope on my desk, sink into my chair and pull out the pictures. I splay them on my desk.
Taken with a long-range lens, the photographs captured several moments from last night.
I look up at the windows of her apartment. I can see the corner of her kitchen from where I sit. The place where we fucked last night.
I move my eyes back to the pictures.
Her legs are spread open, her nipples hard, her nails sunk into my arms. The photographs are so revealing I get a rush of blood below my waist.
Good photographer.
Great moments.
I study the photos for a few more seconds before I let them slide onto my desk.
She. Will. Be. Mine.
And that’s that.
Prompted by a fleeting thought, I swivel in my chair and look up again.
Standing in front of the window, she waves at me.
She wears a pink dress with white flowers and a halter style neckline.
“Good morning,” she mouths to me, smiling, and blows me a kiss.
I take her in, displaying no emotion.
She was hoping for a different reaction–– I can tell, if nothing else for the fact that her smile begins to fade away.
Holding her gaze, I pull out of the chair and without the slightest gesture in response, I spin around and walk out of the room.
TESS
What the hell was that?
It feels as if a full speed train just rammed through me, and left me on the rail tracks bleeding.
Panic slices through me as the snapshot of his emotionless face stays with me, searing my mind.
“What happened...?” I mutter, washed with disbelief, every fiber in my body hurting.
What happened to the man I know? The man who had me on my kitchen counter, last night.
I have a hard time believing that what I just saw has actually happened.
I’m still staring at his office, my eyes roving over the walls, the desk, and his chair. The bookcase.
A yellow envelope sits on his desk.
A crater forms inside me.
What is that...?
I can’t tear my eyes away, my gaze glued to the yellow paper.
It’s a large envelope with no address on it. One of those envelopes that carry documents and it’s usually hand delivered. The sort of envelope that brings you bad news. Or very bad news, like right now, for instance.
I clutch the window frame with a trembling hand, wincing in pain as I relive that moment when he turned his cold eyes away from me.
His coldness bore the glint of steel. It wasn’t fake. It wasn’t a mere game. It sparked with firm determination. The same kind that pulled him close to me, now takes him fast away from me.
What happened, Sebastien?
My mind twists and turns, whispering and shouting, hoping to relay a message to him––beyond the empty room and the house with walls made of sadness.
How could you do this to me?
Perhaps, I’m wrong, and it was nothing. Although I have to say, denial never worked for me.
His change of heart hits me hard as did the bad news buried in his guarded eyes. A part of me crumbled when he walked away.
Tormented, I slant my gaze down, barely able to focus my eyes when a feminine silhouette glides down the stairs in front of his house.
Phone clutched in hand, Jacqueline Monroe talks to someone, tossing glances over her shoulder from time to time.
No one follows her.
A moment later, she slips into her Jaguar. I drag my gaze up to the windows. Heavy curtains block my view this time, his room no longer visible to me.
The bad feeling that’s been swirling inside me becomes the mother of all hunches.
On impulse, I call a cab, grab my keys and fly down the stairs.
Her Jaguar vanishes around the corner as my ride shows up. I dash to the car and swiftly climb in.
“Take a right at the next block and follow a silver Jaguar.”
“Yes, ma’am,” mutters the man, throwing me a glance in the rearview mirror.
“A little faster, if you can,” I bark.
The moment her car enters my view, I de-tense a little and slacken in my seat.
Let’s see if she goes where I suspect she does. Let’s see if she proves me wrong. My eyes stay rooted to her car all the way to downtown.
She pulls to an abrupt stop in front of the art gallery. No surprise there. A moment later, she slips out of her ride, hands the car keys to the parking valet and waltzes into the venue.
It’s a few minutes past 10 AM, and the place must’ve just opened as I don’t see many people inside. Most of them have opted for shopping in the nearby boutiques.
Following her in broad daylight is not a good idea, and yet, that’s exactly what I do.
I pay the cab driver, and slip out, sliding closer to the building.
For the next few moments, I make sure I stay out of her sight, surreptitiously glancing at the windows. I spot her inside–– in the main room, talking to a group of people.
Minutes later, a cab comes to a halt in front of the venue, and Stephan Leon walks out after he pays the fare. Rushed, he paces into the building.
He embraces her effusively, spurring a big smile on her face.
Perhaps, I was wrong.
Perhaps nothing has changed between them. And everything remains the same between Sebastian and her.
People start shifting inside, some leaving, prompting me to sneak behind a column unsure of the couple’s intentions.
I can’t tell whether they want to leave or not as well, but what I can see is that Jacqueline and Stephan break away from the group of people and engage in a quiet, private conversation.
I only see her face. From what I can tell, she does most of the talking. I make myself busy with my phone, keeping an eye on them as well.
They pivot slightly, her back turning to me now, his face becoming visible to me.
A mix of emotions reads on his face.
From shock to bewilderment and seething anger. Her hand goes to his arm as she explains something to him. She tries to be convincing and persuading. The skepticism threading through his gaze tells me that she’s failing.
She nods a few times, trying. Trying so hard.
The man’s eyebrows pinch into a frown, his eyes bleeding even more anger.
People keep strolling in while others saunter out. I take a few steps to the side and hide behind another column.
Stephan’s eyes remain frosted as he slightly moves away from the woman. She spins around, giving me a chance to get a glimpse of her expression.
Her composure seems shattered as she desperately grabs his arm. He halts and looks at her, speaking to her in a low voice.
His jaw is locked and pulsing as he growls something under his breath. She listens to him. Wide-eyed, and eyebrows raised. Her lips trembling with frustration.
He yanks his hand out of her grip and tears away from her again, this time for good. My back becomes one with the wall as they dash to the exit.
They walk out, arguing.
“She’s gone, Jacqueline. She. Is. Gone.”
The man turns around, making her bump into him. She takes a step back, both freezing not far from me.
My hair bristle as I hear his voice again.
“She knows. She has known for some time. And now she’s gone.”
Her hand goes to his forearm.
I sense the tension in his body, the crumbling restraint.
“Nothing will change for us, Steph. Nothing.”
Her eyes dart back and forth, her expression soaked with panic.
She reads his face, hoping for some good news.
He stays silent.
The news is grim, but she’s not a quitter.
“Trust me,” she says, slowly brushing his arm. “There will never be anything between him and me. I will not destroy what we have. It’s nothing more than a fake marriage to keep our businesses afloat. I don’t want him, Steph. I want you. The change of attitude I see in him has nothing to do with feelings. Believe me. I don’t want him.”
He seems petrified.
She slowly shakes his shoulder.
“Steph?”
No words come from him.
“Please, Steph. Let’s go to our place. Let’s talk this over. It’s not what you think. Seriously, now.”
A faint smile brushes her lips, but it does nothing to conceal her panic.
She takes his hand, nudging him to pivot with her before she flicks her fingers up and a parking valet pulls her car in front of the gallery.
They quietly climb in.
He shifts his eyes to the window–– almost catching sight of me while running a nervous hand through his hair. Words seem to dance on her lips as she steers the car away, but he doesn’t seem to listen.
4
JACQUELINE
“It was surprising to me too,” I say, running my hand over my skirt and sliding onto the sofa. “I’m still not convinced that it’s not some kind of trick. Some stupid game that it will blow up in my face. It’s hard for me to believe that he’s giving up on that woman so easily.”
Stephan locks my eyes for a moment before he turns around and starts pouring gin into a couple of glasses.
“Things will change, Jacqueline. That’s what you wanted all along, but I don’t want him near you,” he says bluntly, his back turned to me as he fixes drinks for both of us.
“You shouldn’t worry about that,” I say, flashing a charming smile as he spins around. “It’s nothing of that sort. Trust me,” I say, flipping my hair over my shoulder. “I have no desire to get in bed with him, either,” I mutter as I cross my legs and shift my position, pointing my knees toward him.
My little tricks seem to distract him for a moment.
He takes a few steps in my direction and hands me my drink.
Our eyes lock again as he raises his gaze from my legs. I smile, hoping to shatter his tension completely, b
ut his jaw remains clenched, his eyes bearing a steely glint.
Holding my gaze, he props himself against the table.
“He knows about me,” he mutters before he takes a sip of gin.
I study his eyes for a moment.
“That shouldn’t surprise you,” I toss at him casually.
“How does he know?” he asks.
I shrug.
I never thought about it, to be honest, but I don’t think it’s that hard to figure it out. He knows me well, and he probably fills the blanks whenever needed, but I can’t tell that to Stephan.
“I have no idea.”
“Have you told him?”
Cocking an eyebrow, he tears his drink away from his lips and looks at me suspiciously.
My hand flicks up.
“No, no. How can you even think about something like that? Why would I tell him?”
It’s his turn to shrug.
He breaks his gaze away from mine and sets his glass on the table.
His arms fold across his chest.
“I don’t know. To make him jealous, perhaps?”
A rush of blood warms up my cheeks.
I’m sure my smile gives me away. I quickly shift my gaze away from his and take a sip of gin.
The silence tells me that he expects an explanation.
“I’ve never made a secret of the fact that you are my closest male friend, but I’ve never stated that you are more than that,” I finally say.
“I don’t think it was that hard to put two and two together. Painting your nudes didn’t help either.”
I gesture again.
“Whatever. I don’t care what he thinks. Even if he suspected it for some time, he knew that you and Carmen were together. Why is it so important to you what he thinks?” I blurt out, annoyed.
“Because it’s the answer to your question. If he wants to get back at you because he’s jealous, then this is nothing more than a maneuver.”
I jerk upright.
“Listen to me. It doesn’t matter. He always wants to get back at me. That’s a given. But it has nothing to do with love or jealousy or the feelings that we have for each other. We are not in love, Stephan. We haven’t been for a while. It may be a trap––I’m not excluding that possibility, but it has nothing to do with you or Carmen or me. Besides, he’s probably more interested in that woman, than me.”