Flirting with Revenge

by Kristel Ralston

  During that time, he’d asked her out. He introduced her to Kyle Bronson, his best friend since childhood, whose twelve-year-old daughter was Michael’s goddaughter. They went dancing, and she was surprised to find that he was even skilled on the dancefloor.

  The nights were an alternate reality. The way they made love was increasingly intense, possessive, passionate. She was enthralled by the way he touched her and brought her to the limit, only to start again, long into the night.

  They had almost established a sort of routine. They met every day. After dark. Michael, after two or three days, started staying the night at her apartment, and she stayed over at his every now and then. She had loved seeing where he lived. Lincoln Park was a classy, comfortable area.

  Michael’s house had two stories, and inviting porch that made you want to spend the afternoon, and large rooms. The décor was not excessive. Everything was organized. Michael’s bed was comfortable and gave her plenty of space to maneuver. She had caught herself enjoying the man’s company, and the emotions she was starting to feel disconcerted her.

  Her investigation had not progressed, even though she tried to read between the lines of the conversations she had with Michael. It was impossible for this man to be so transparent. It could not be possible. There had to be something. Staying by his side indefinitely, as his lover, was stupid. She needed to set a time limit. However, the mere idea of not having sex with Michael again caused a sharp pain in her chest. Yes, she knew what it was. It was the guilt she felt for not having had any results quickly. What else could it be?

  On the other hand, Henry had called her five days ago.

  They had coffee, and Henry confessed that he felt insecure, because she barely returned his texts. She decided to be honest. She told him she was seeing someone else and apologized for not having had the courage to tell him sooner. Henry was an angel. He told her that, whomever it was, he was a lucky man.

  So Rachel felt like a cockroach. At what point in this equation had she stopped being a person who cared about others? How could she have forgotten that she and Henry were dating? Well, it could be explained with a name, last name, and a few creative sexual positions that...

  “Hey! Are you with me, or in the clouds?” asked Delaney, snapping her fingers in front of her best friend’s face.

  Rachel looked at Delaney with a smile. Other than the hard work she put into her company, Del did not usually have much fun. After all, she was often planning parties, and that took a lot of effort. But if she understood correctly, Del had just told her she wanted to go dancing. On a Tuesday evening!

  “Are you sure, Del? You have a meeting with your star client tomorrow, and I’m sure you need all your ideas... sober,” Rachel asked with a laugh.

  Delaney rolled her eyes.

  “It’s great for me that Bianca wants to get engaged every seven months, Rachel. Then she breaks off the engagement. That’s good for business.”

  “And she hosts a bachelorette party, and then a celebration after having dumped that...

  “... selfish, womanizing bastard,” they said at the same time amid peals of laughter.

  They’d ordered Italian food. Pangora cannelloni in the four-cheese sauce. One of those delights they could allow themselves; well, at least Del, who burned through her carbs easily and never had to worry about fitting into her bra. Rachel could not say the same, but she was not going to be one of those absurd women who survived on oranges and water, denying themselves a good meal. On the other hand, Michael had no complaints about her curves; in fact, he worshiped them with every kiss...

  “Rachel, what planet are you on? You’ve only had two glasses of wine. It can’t be that bad. Or are you out of practice?”

  Sitting at the table, wine glasses in their hands, they were really more drunk than excited about going out. Rachel liked to go along with her best friend’s plans. She knew that Del was a cheap date. After four drinks, she was out of commission. And she’d had six already.

  “Of course not. I drink regularly, but I have a lot of work, and sometimes you know I start thinking about how to solve things when I’m not at the office,” she lied.

  “Ha! As if I did not know you. Now, what have you been up to, Rachel?” she asked suddenly, pointing a forkful of pasta at her. “Confess.”

  Rachel laughed at the way Del’s eyes unfocused.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” she replied, taking the last bite from her place. It was delicious. “It’s late,” she looked at the watch on her left wrist, “and I have to work tomorrow. I’m going up to my apartment to rest.”

  Delaney noisily dropped her fork on the plate. She put her elbow on the table and then rested her chin on the palm of her hand. She looked at Rachel with suspicion.

  “One of the advantages of being half-drunk is that you speak your mind.”

  “When have you not, even sober?” Rachel asked with a laugh.

  “I saw him, Rachel.”

  “Huh?”

  “I know that was Michael Whitmore. The other night I came home at almost eleven, and I saw him in the elevator. He doesn’t know me, of course. But the only button he’d pressed was the twelfth floor. You know who lives on that floor?”

  “Del...”

  “Exactly! You! My best friend who, for weeks, or who knows how long, really, has been hiding her boyfriend from me.”

  “He’s not...”

  “Don’t’ interrupt me. I would recognize that man anywhere. Do you know why, Ms. Galloway?” Rachel did not bother to answer. “Because I know you’re only interested in him for revenge, and that’s why you keep his photograph. Cut out from that old newspaper from ten years ago. How could you have kept something like that from me?”

  “And how could you have seen that?” she asked furiously. She never got angry at Delaney, but she did not keep that kind of memento in plain sight.

  “Because I stayed over at your apartment one night and found you crying and swearing you’d make him pay for fooling you.”

  “That happened a long time ago, I’d just come back from Maine.”

  “It doesn’t matter! How did you manage to befriend him? And for the love of God, don’t you dare tell me you can’t tell me anything because I’m drunk. Alcohol may be the reason I’m cross-eyed and talking a mile a minute, but my brain is working perfectly, and my memory hasn’t been erased.”

  Rachel crossed her arms. She shot her friend a withering glare. Since Delaney was not going to give up, and she did not want to fight about something so stupid, she decided to confess everything. She poured her heart out for almost twenty minutes. When she finished, she felt as if a large weight had been lifted off her body. She inhaled deeply and let the air out with a loud sigh.

  “Wow...” muttered Del. She’d calmed down. There was nothing left on her plate, or in the bottle. “I think you’ve made a mistake, Rachel.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re not the type of woman who can sleep with a man she doesn’t care about.”

  “I do care because my relationship with him has a purpose.”

  “You have a heart of gold, and if Michael finds out you’ve been using him, then...”

  “Then what? He ruined my family, the only thing I had left. I had to go live with my aunt, far away from my hometown, for three years. All that time, far from my friends here in Chicago, from you, Del. The only thing I’ll do is find a way to return the offense.”

  “But he doesn’t even know that he’s guilty. He was just a lawyer doing his job.”

  “Oh, he is, of course, he’s guilty. The first night we were together, he told me about Piper. He did not say her name, but it was my sister’s case. Would you call framing a poor girl and making her pay for crimes she did not commit doing his job?”

  “What if your plan doesn’t work?”

  “I don’t plan on it not working.”

  Delaney looked at her sorrowfully.

  “if you found something that caused harm to Michael and his famil
y, after spreading it, would you really feel better? Do you think you’ll do justice for Piper? Piper, a grown woman, almost eleven years older than you, who knew better than anyone what she was doing when you were just a child?”

  “I hope you’re not trying to tell me that my sister’s guilty,” she accused.

  Del stood up. She collected the dishes from the table and put them in the dishwasher.

  “No, Rachel. What I’m trying to tell you is that you’re making a terrible mistake, because you’re fighting a battle that’s not yours. If Piper is innocent, and she wants to prove she was unfairly incarcerated, then she’ll find a way. Has she asked for your help?” Rachel shook her head. “Exactly. all she wants is to leave the past behind, but you seem to insist on going back to it and feeding an irrational grudge.”

  “I lost my family! The person responsible has to feel what I felt. The devastation I experienced for many years!” She yelled, losing her composure. “You can’t understand me because you’ve always had yours. Everyone was happy. Content. With no problematic reputations or money issues.”

  “But I lost Mauricio, Rachel,” she answered softly, remembering the man she planned on marrying, had death not suddenly taken him. “Everyone experiences pain and the loss of a loved one differently, but that doesn’t mean that it hurts more or less than what you’ve experienced...”

  That made Rachel calm down. She was being unfair to Del.

  “I’m sorry...”

  “Just think about what you’re doing. Once you get what you want, the consequences may not be what you expect.” She walked up to Rachel and hugged her, and her friend hugged her back. “I’ll finish cleaning up here. Go rest.”

  “Del.”

  “It’s fine, Rachel, really. I’m leaving tomorrow for the family ranch. My grandfather’s turning eighty-eight. I promised to plan the party. It will be on Saturday night. Many friends, drinks, and, well...”

  “Wow, a big celebration.”

  “Would you like to come? My family would love to see you. It will be a great party.”

  “I don’t think so, Del. I have some pressing matters...”

  Del nodded.

  “Of course. Sleep well, Rachel.”

  Rachel was going to say something else, but she decided to collect her things and go home.

  CHAPTER 9

  The blues concert ended with a round of applause from the audience.

  The main ballroom at the Waldorf Astoria Chicago was bustling. The tickets cost two thousand dollars each. The proceeds would go directly to a charitable organization dedicated to helping women rescued from human trafficking rings in the state of Illinois.

  Important businessmen had come together to show their altruistic sides, and many lawyers from the city’s most prestigious law firms were among those influential people. At the last minute, Kyle had called Michael to tell him his flight had been delayed, and he would not make the event. He asked if Michael would mind escorting his wife, Zayda, since she was one of the organizers of the evening, and he did not want her to have a bad time, all alone.

  Michael did not hesitate. Kyle had never failed him. He would have liked to go with Rachel on his arm, but she was on a business trip in Los Angeles, so he would not see her for a few more days. He could not deny that he missed her, but he did not want to rush into anything. He wanted to let everything happen as it was meant to be.

  “Michael?” asked a voice behind him. Zayda was on the stage, publicly thanking the musicians who had come in from New York.

  He turned. The last thing he expected was to run into his former wife. He hadn’t seen her since the day they met to sign their divorce papers at the lawyers’ office in the law firm where Kyle worked, Gunsther & Shadowiks. Their separation was civilized. When Ingrid tried to fix things, asked for his forgiveness, he refused. What for? She’d violated the fundamental principle of marriage: respect and loyalty.

  Despite having finalized their divorce, Ingrid continued to seek him out, trying to get him back. One night she showed up at his house, recently acquired back then, dressed like a temptress Eve. He was a red-blooded man, and his ex-wife had a beautiful body. Why deny the obvious? However, his integrity as a person and his self-esteem did not let him follow his impulses. He let her down gracefully, and that was the last time Ingrid had tried to approach him.

  “Ingrid,” he said in greeting.

  She wore a fitted mermaid-cut dress in powder blue. Her figure was still spectacular, and her wavy light-blond hair fell to her shoulders. Her pink lips and those expressive brown eyes were her distinctive features.

  “It’s been a long time,” she commented with a shy smile. “Are you with the Bronsons tonight?”

  “With Zayda, yes.”

  “I would have liked to say hello in person,” she replied, glancing at the stage. “The room had been too full. Where’s Kyle?”

  “Flying back,” he said shortly. He wasn’t rude. He felt nothing for his ex-wife, but he would not insult her by leaving her mid-sentence. “What brings you to the gala?” he asked. He clearly remembered that Ingrid hated anything related to galas or charity events.

  She blushed.

  “I’m with my husband. I remarried a year ago...”

  “Congratulations, Ingrid. I really must join Zayda now; I’m her companion for the evening. It was good to see you...”

  “Wait,” she said, taking his arm. Michael stared at her. “I have married a year ago. My husband... it was a business arrangement related to my family’s hotel business,” she continued, her voice sad, though she tried to hide it. “The marriage has an expiration date. Until the companies manage to increase their capital through some mergers I could not care less about. I’ll be married for eight more months...”

  “I don’t see how this would concern me, Ingrid. Really.”

  “Michael, every day that goes by I regret how I behaved with you. The way I ruined our marriage.”

  “Ingrid, there’s no point. It’s absurd that the first thing you do when you see me after so many years is talk about a marriage that’s in the past.”

  The woman’s hurt look did not move Michael.

  “I understand... I just...” she shrugged. “I guess that I was trying to do something I had hoped to do for a long time... talk to you. I’m sorry, Michael. I would feel terrible if my actions scared you to the point of destroying your trust in women and relationships.”

  “You don’t need to apologize,” he said dryly. “My private life and my feelings are none of your concern. It’s been too long, and we have nothing in common. Good luck with your life, and I hope you continue enjoying the event.”

  Her smile was joyless.

  “You’re a good catch. I hope the woman who conquers you knows it.”

  “One last dance, ladies and gentlemen!” someone exclaimed from the stage, interrupting Michael’s reply. “A gift from New York’s star band, the Golden Loops. Thank you for coming tonight. Enjoy this song in the best blues style!”

  Everyone in attendance, already standing, smiled. There were murmurs, and quicker than usual, they paired up. A photographer came up to Michael, and Ingrid was absorbed by a group of people who recognized her as the wife of an important Canadian businessman. Ingrid had no choice but to look sadly at her ex-husband, wave at him, and let herself be surrounded by the sycophants who knew about her enormous fortune. Seconds later, the handsome husband she had married for business was by her side, reminding her that he was her present and that she could never go back to fix her past.

  “A photo for the Chicago Tribune?” asked the photographer, surprising Michael.

  “Um...”

  “Of course,” interjected Zayda, who suddenly appeared, to Michael’s relief. They posed for the photographer, smiling. “This is lawyer Michael Whitmore, and I’m Zayda Bronson, one of the ladies who organized this event.”

  “Noted, ma’am,” he replied, putting away the notebook he would later use to add captions. “It will appear in tomorr
ow’s paper. Digital and print.”

  By the time the photographer disappeared, Michael was dancing with Zayda, and thankful for her timely appearance. They chatted about this and that. Kyle’s wife was charming and had plucked her husband out of the city’s league of players. A significant achievement, to have stolen the heart of a womanizer like Kyle.

  The dance ended, and Michael waited for Zayda to say her goodbyes. It was almost four in the morning when they set off towards the Bronson’s home.

  “What did Ingrid want?” asked Zayda, examining Michael with his dark green eyes. “I think it was sheer luck that the Chicago Tribune photographer did not get one of you two together...”

  Michael laughed as he parked at his lifelong friends’ house. He turned off the car’s headlights and looked at Zayda.

  “You have impeccable timing, coming back when you did. I guess your birthday present should improve this year.” Zayda laughed. “She told me a bit about herself, and apologized.”

  Kyle’s wife let out an inelegant whistle that made Michael laugh.

  “I did not know she was coming, you know. In fact, we invited many people, but I was not in charge of the invitations. I was only in charge of the music and the floral arrangements for the ballroom.”

  Michael closed his eyes.

  “My appearance at the event was unplanned, but no matter, how is my goddaughter?”

  Zayda’s smile fell slightly.

  “You know she’s a very active girl, but for the past three days, she’s been listless, deflated. I don’t like seeing her like that.”

  “It must only be a matter of giving her more vitamins because impish little Michelle has boundless energy.”

  “You’re right. Besides, her birthday is this weekend. We’re hosting a barbecue with some of her friends from school. You’re certainly invited. I’m sure Kyle forgot to tell you.”

  “You know our good Kyle and his memory for events,” he said cheerfully. “I’ll definitely be there.”