Her Perfect Revenge

by Anna Mara

  Now what else? Let me think…" Christina paused to think some more.

  During her entire speech, Bill had been gawking at her with respect and admiration. She was smart, beautiful and—crafty, he thought. He was going to have to watch himself with this one.

  Christina resumed her litany. "Okay, we'll say we got engaged last week. You asked me to marry you. I said… 'yes'." Disgusted, she eyed Bill up and down. "If your father asks when we're getting married, we'll say a year from now because that's how long it takes to plan a wedding. After a month, we'll break up and tell him I changed my mind because I feel I'm not ready. That way the fault for the breakup is mine, not yours and your father won't blame you. How's that? Have I covered all the bases?"

  Bill gave her a big smile. "Wow, what a good little liar you are, Miss Matteo. You're definitely going to fit into this family."

  Christina gives him a cold stare. "For one month."

  Bill smiled at her again. "For one month." Here he was—in one of the biggest messes of his life—and he had been in some doozies before this—and all he could think about was how much fun this woman was. He hadn't been bored for one millisecond and he couldn't wait to find out more about her. Oh—and had he mentioned how hot and sexy she was too?

  Christina, on the other hand, couldn't wait to get out of his presence. She needed quiet time, by herself, to think more about this little plan of hers. Revenge always had to be planned out to the smallest detail if it was to work successfully. Billy Havenwood didn't want to make any mistakes in front of his father regarding his little scam; and she didn't want to make any mistakes in front of Billy. It took a scammer to scam a scammer; and she was going to be the best of the lot.

  Chapter 16

  Casually, with martini in hand, William walked back into the salon just as the happy couple was walking in through the French doors.

  William smirked, "Why, there you two lovebirds are. I'd almost given up on you."

  On seeing his father, Bill awkwardly slung his arm around Christina's shoulders and pulled her close to his side.

  "We haven't seen each other all day." He glanced down and gave Christina a 'lover's' smile before turning back to his father. "You know how it is. Or maybe you don't?" He dared his father.

  William sipped his drink while eyeballing his deadbeat son. "You're all wet," he smirked slyly. "What the hell happened to you? Christina push you into the pool?" He laughed.

  Bill pretended to laugh too. "Don't be ridiculous. I fell in. It was an accident." Tension engulfed the room as they glowered at each other.

  Both men knew it hadn't been an accident.

  Christina was becoming uncomfortable with Bill's heavy, wet arm still wrapped around her shoulders. She could feel his heat emanating from his body into hers and she was suddenly aware of him as a living, breathing, attractive male.

  And there was that pull again—like two magnets coming together. It was craziness. She must be going mad. And to top everything off, pressed up against the big lug as she was, her dress was getting wet from his still sopping suit.

  Gritting her teeth, Christina plastered a fake smile on her face and looked up at Bill. "Darling, you're getting me wet."

  Aware of his father's laser sharp focus on them both, Bill gazed down at his 'fiancée' and cockily replied, "I should hope so." He gave her a wink.

  William rolled his eyes up as he continued to sip his martini and Christina gritted her teeth even more. "You should really go get changed," she continued. She pushed at him trying to get out of his embrace but had no luck. He was hanging on tight.

  "She's right. You're dripping on my Aubusson rug," William piped in as he approached the couple and wrapped his arm around Christina's other shoulder. "Get changed and I'll keep my beautiful daughter-in-law-to-be company. We have so much to talk about." He gave his son a sly smile as he tugged Christina to his side.

  Bill glared back at his father as he reluctantly let Christina go. "Be gentle… dad," he gritted. "Christina's not used to our family ways and I don't want you scaring her away."

  "But of course, dear boy. I promise to be on my best behavior. This lovely creature has graced our home and I will do everything in my power to make sure she's treated… the way she should be… treated." William gave his son an enigmatic smile.

  Bill was suddenly uneasy. He didn't trust this old bastard and he didn't want this girl hurt by the apocalyptic war that had been waging for years between his father and himself.

  Bill lowered his eyes to his fiancée and gave her a little smile, "I'll be back sooner than you think… sweetie." He, then, gave William a tight smile before calmly walking out of the room.

  * * *

  The second Bill was out of the room, he raced towards the opulent staircase. He shot up the stairs, taking them two at a time, all the while unbuttoning his jacket and loosening his tie. Running down the upstairs hallway, he sprinted into his bedroom and started yanking off his wet clothes. No time to lose. Who knows what could be said down there without him.

  He threw his jacket, pants, shirt, everything haphazardly around the immaculate, richly decorated chocolate brown suite as if he was stripping down to a fast forward button.

  Naked, he started rifling in his massive closet for his dinner jacket and pants. He needed to hurry. His whole life could right now be exploding downstairs.

  * * *

  The minute Bill was out of the room, William, steered Christina to one of the couches.

  "Please sit, my dear and I'll get you another drink." He moved to the drinks trolley and started pouring out another martini. He gave her a sly sideways look. "How long have you and my son been seeing each other?"

  Poised and cool, Christina pasted a smile on her lips. "We've been seeing each other for three months."

  William studied her as he approached with the drink. She's calm and composed, he thought to himself. Not a flinch or nervous tick. She had looked directly into his eyes and lied to his face with the expertise of someone like—well someone like himself—an accomplished, sophisticated liar. What talent! Oh—he liked this girl and his respect for her was growing by leaps and bounds. His moronic son didn't realize it but he would have his hands full with this one.

  William gave her a wide smile as he sat down opposite Christina. "So for three whole months my son has been keeping you a secret. I wonder why?" he quizzed.

  Christina sipped her martini and skillfully looked at him, "I don't think it was so much 'keeping it a secret', William. It was just that we, Bill and I, needed time to find out where the other one stood in this relationship… before we made any formal announcements."

  "And did you find out?"

  "Oh, I think we each now know where the other one stands," Christina cryptically replied. "And we're both going into this new phase of our relationship with our eyes open."

  William smiled inwardly to himself. She's weaving the truth into her lies, he observed. How brilliant was that! A master's stroke. He couldn't have done any better himself. If he weren't playing dumb, he would have right now stood up and given her a standing ovation.

  "Yes, that's so important… to know the temperature of the water before one jumps in," William nonchalantly replied, all the while coolly studying Christina.

  "And I bet the water can get very hot around here," Christina remarked as she casually sipped her drink.

  "What do you mean?" William was suddenly even more interested.

  "Only that I know there's friction between you and your son. Bill has told me a little about it and I sensed some tonight," Christina parried. There take that, Mr. Havenwood Sr.!

  She wasn't going to meekly sit here for who knows how much longer, waiting for that jackass-of-a-fake-fiancé to return and be grilled by his father as if she was on the witness stand. She needed that fool here to help her with her answers and for him to listen to what she was saying so that they could both keep their stories straight. And the only way to put an end to William's questioning, was by doing some questi
oning of her own back. Didn't they say that the best defense was a strong offense? Christina was no mouse and she was going to be the one in control of these two snarling tigers, father and son, not them in control of her.

  She innocently continued, "You two don't get along?"

  William gave a little exasperated laugh, "My son and I each think we're right. But we can't both be right, now can we?"

  "And you think Bill is wrong?"

  "Well, I'm not saying he's wrong; but one of us is and it isn't me." William finished his martini in one gulp. He knew what Christina was up to—the girl was giving as good as she was getting. Oh, she was definitely a formidable opponent and he liked that a lot. What a breath of fresh air to have come into this house! He smiled at her then. "What do you think, Christina? Which one of us is right then and which one's wrong?" There, let's see how she answers that one!

  "Well, from what I can tell you're both right and you're both wrong."

  "A cryptic answer for a cryptic question. What do you mean exactly?"

  "Only that you're two very strong, stubborn personalities and you're each 'right' when discussing your own lives but both 'wrong' when discussing each other's."

  William laughed uproariously. "How diplomatic of you." He was impressed and he was rarely impressed by anyone or anything these days. He was far too old and had seen far too much to be so. But this girl—she was different.

  And she certainly wasn't afraid of him. He could tell. Everyone in his life was afraid of him—his employees, his business rivals, even his imbecile-of-a-son—but not this young lady. She didn't fear him at all and he found that invigorating. Christina Matteo was definitely a worthy opponent and he so loved the 'fight'.

  Christina, on the other hand, was starting to feel a little hot under the collar. Oh—where was that idiot? And why was he taking so long?

  * * *

  The 'idiot' was, at that moment, flying down the staircase at breakneck speed. He had cleaned himself up as best he could and was wearing a black dinner jacket and pants, and white shirt and black tie.

  Bill ran through the foyer and skidded to a stop at the closed salon doors. He steadied himself as he straightened his tie and ran his fingers through his still damp hair. He hadn't had time to run a hair dryer through it and the best he could do was just to comb it back. Luckily for him it was already drying in places. Unbeknownst to him, dressed as he was in black tie and slicked back hair, he looked liked a 1940's debonair, movie star hero.

  Taking one last deep breath, he put his hands on the doorknobs and slowly turned them. The double doors parted and he nonchalantly sauntered in, as if he hadn't a care in this world.

  His eyes quickly sized up the situation. Both his father and Christina were seated on opposite couches and seemed engrossed in each other's company. Oh, he prayed everything had gone all right.

  William was the first of the two to see him. "So the prodigal son returns," he wisecracked.

  Christina, having had her back to the doors, turned around and when she saw Bill dressed as he was, her stomach did a somersault. Bloody hell, the bastard was handsome, she thought to herself. But then again, most devils were. But why had her traitorous stomach fluttered like that when this Beelzebub had walked in? It was empty, of course. That's why. She hadn't had a thing to eat all night.

  William and Christina both rose as Bill walked further into the room. Bill came to stand beside Christina.

  "Everything all right, darling?" he enquired, as he studied her face for any signs of trouble or a secret signal or anything. He was worried.

  Christina smiled at him, "Of course. Your father's been a perfect gentleman."

  "I treated her with kid gloves," William piped in. "She's very charming, Bill, and very beautiful. You've found yourself a diamond in the coal, a jewel-of-a-girl." Oh—how he was going to enjoy challenging the both of them with this monstrous lie of theirs. What fun!

  Bill was wary. "Then you approve of us getting married?" he questioned, placing a protective arm around Christina's shoulders.

  Christina's stomach fluttered again. Damn it! What was wrong with her? She needed to remember who this was—

  Billy Havenwood, High School Bastard—the one who'd been responsible for the most traumatizing day in her life and who was now forcing her to participate in one of his devious schemes for his own benefit—that's who. Don't be fooled by the looks of the outside of the package, it was the inside that mattered. Beautiful garbage—that was what Bill Havenwood was; and she needed to remember that. Christina's racing mind was pacified.

  She focused back on the conversation between father and son. William was speaking.

  "Why, of course, I approve. To think that one day soon this house will be filled with grandchildren." William approached Christina. "Welcome to the Havenwood family, my dear." He bent and kissed her on both cheeks. "You are exactly what I needed." His eyes became watery.

  Christina was surprised by this show of emotion from William. Was he about to cry with happiness? "Thank you, William," she accepted.

  Bill had also seen the unshed tears in his father's eyes and was stunned. His father never cried! In fact, he never remembered having seen him cry. Never. You have to have a heart to cry and his father didn't have one. But hey, if his impending marriage brought tears to dear old dad's eyes, that could only mean one thing. Bill was back in the Havenwood billion-dollar fold. He was secretly elated and he smiled at William. "Christina and I are very happy that you're happy, dad."

  William pasted on a phony smile. The glistening eyes with unshed tears had been a nice touch, he thought to himself. At least those theatre days in London when he'd been a teenager hadn't gone to waste. And the best way to win in any game was to disarm your opponent with kindness and acceptance—a trick William had used successfully many times in business. Then as soon as your adversary has let his defenses down, you go in for the kill.

  Who the hell did his brainless son think he was dealing with anyway? William was almost insulted to think that his son believed him to be that stupid to fall for such a scam.

  Getting married indeed! His son was an irresponsible, alcoholic, hard partying, hard living mess who would never come within sniffing distance of marriage. Marriage would put a crimp into that boy's lifestyle. After all, how would he explain a wife to all of his many slut girlfriends?

  William graciously smiled at the couple again. "Shall we go to dinner then?" he invited politely.

  Chapter 17

  The gilded, ornately decorated dining hall was as impressive as the rest of the house. It had been decorated in French Rococo style and the massive dining table could have easily seated twenty. Seventeenth century Dutch paintings hung from the walls, and taste and elegance abounded everywhere.

  Fine bone china and sterling silver flatware adorned the antique table. Two silver candelabras sandwiched a centerpiece of fresh flowers and the lights from the candles glistened off of the crystal glasses. The room was not only a feast for the stomach but also for the eyes.

  William was seated at the head of the long table. Bill was sitting on his left and Christina to his right, allowing the couple to face each other. The shrimp cocktail appetizers had been served and the trio had just begun to eat.

  Bentley, the stogy butler, was pouring wine into their glasses. As he approached Bill's glass, Bill quickly covered the top with his hand and stopped him.

  "No thank you, Bentley. I'm driving Christina home later."

  "Very good, sir." The butler nodded and moved away.

  Christina had witnessed the little exchange and was surprised. That drunk Billy Havenwood had actually refused alcohol? That was something she'd thought she'd never see.

  And when had drinking and driving ever stopped him before? She remembered all the stories she'd heard in school about his legendary drinking and driving exploits—disgusting as they were—and that had been before he was even old enough to drive! Maybe tonight, he was trying to impress his father by being on his best beha
vior. Yes—that was it.

  But William had noticed nothing. He was completely focused on Christina. "My dear Christina, you're already doing me good. I can't remember the last time my son and I actually sat down together for dinner," he observed, as he popped a shrimp into his mouth.

  "Fourteen months, twenty one days and…" Bill looked at his watch. "…Sixteen hours," he commented in a blasé voice.

  William cocked an enquiring eyebrow at him as if to say how the hell would you remember that? Bill sarcastically smiled at his father, "The dinner party you gave for the Latimers? It was over a year ago."

  "Well, well, well, so it was; a whole year." He quickly turned back to his daughter-in-law-to-be. "Christina, can you believe that? My son and I haven't dined together for more than a year." He gave Bill a look of disgust. "And yet I'm home practically every night. After putting in a hard days' work, I don't have the energy to go gallivanting elsewhere."

  Bill pretended to ignore the cutting remark about his lifestyle as he aggressively started attacking his own shrimp cocktail.

  Christina studied the two. What a pair they were! The room was practically suffocating with bad karma. And here she was—stuck between them—in a disaster of titanic proportions that was just beginning.

  She swiveled to William, "William, you have an incredible home. It's lovely."

  "Why thank you, my dear but I'm afraid all the credit belongs to my dearly departed wife."

  Shocked, Christina eyed Bill. "Your mother is dead?"

  A pregnant three-second pause permeated the room.

  Damn, damn, damn, Christina thought. She'd made a mistake; a big one. If she were truly Bill's fiancée, she would know whether his mother was alive or not.