Secret Revenge

by T N Lowe

  I stomp on the brake again trying to get the car to stop, but nothing happens. The other car keeps coming closer, and we are about to collide. I do the only thing I can think of I swerve away from the car, driving on to the curb and colliding with a large oak tree. The old Corolla car comes to a sudden stop, my head smashes into the steering wheel before the seatbelt can lock jolting me into an upright position.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  The pain radiating throughout my body wakes me. I crack one eye open to see sickening green walls and pastel curtains surrounding the plastic lined bed I’m lying on. I moan when I realize where I am and how I got here.

  “Lena, are you awake? Can you hear me?” Patrick asks fear lacing his voice.

  “Yes,” I croak.

  “She’s awake,” Patrick yells to someone. “How are you feeling princess?” He asks taking my hand.

  “My head is pounding, and my body aches.”

  A nurse wearing pink scrubs pulls the curtain divider open and enters my makeshift room. “Good evening Miss. Miller, how are you feeling?” The nurse asks in a soft voice while she’s eyeing Patrick.

  “My head is pounding, and my whole body hurts.”

  “Do you remember how you came to be in the hospital?” The nurse asks wrapping a blood pressure cuff around my arm.

  “I was in a car accident, my brakes wouldn’t work.”

  “What?” Patrick asks squeezing my hand.

  “I was trying to stop at a stop sign, but the brakes weren’t working, and a car was coming. To avoid hitting the car, I went up on the curb and hit an oak tree. Then I hit my head on the steering wheel, and woke up here.”

  “They were working fine yesterday. I will talk to the police who had your car towed and ask them to check your brakes,” Patrick says leaving me with the nurse.

  The nurse finishes taking my vitals, “The doctor will be with you shortly,” she says leaving the room.

  Patrick returns from calling the police. “Okay they will check your brakes, and there is an officer in the hall that needs to speak to you about the accident.” Patrick takes his seat next to me running his fingers through my hair.

  “Okay,” I answer relaxing into his touch.

  “Good evening Miss. Miller. How are you feeling?” A short older man asks wearing blue scrubs.

  “I’m sore.”

  “I bet you are. That oak tree has gone through quite a few rounds with several cars and every one of them lost. Is it okay to talk with your friend in the room?” The doctor asks.

  “Yes, this is Patrick, my boyfriend.”

  “Good, I’ve looked over your x-rays and nothing is broken, but I am concerned that you may have a concussion. I want to keep you overnight as a precaution. A nurse will be in shortly to take you upstairs. Any questions?”

  Patrick lets go of my hand, “Thank you, doctor. We are supposed to be taking a trip to Washington D.C. tomorrow. Will Lena be well enough to go or should we postpone the trip?”

  “As long as there are no complications overnight there are no reasons why she can’t go.”

  “Thank you, doctor,” Patrick says as the doctor leaves us.

  The police officer comes into the room after the doctor leaves. He asks me what happened and I relay the story to him. “I called the other officer and told him about the brakes,” Patrick tells him.

  “Okay, we’ll look everything over and call you with what we find,” the officer says before leaving us with his business card.

  A few minutes later a nurse comes in and moves me to a private room telling Patrick he can sleep on the couch if he would like to stay the night. I plead with Patrick to not leave me as the nurse locks the bed into place. “Princess, I’m not going anywhere. Now get some rest,” Patrick tells me placing a soft kiss on my forehead.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  The next morning the doctor comes to check on me. “You did well overnight. How’s your head feeling this morning?”

  “Better now the pounding has stopped.”

  “Good, do you feel light-headed or nauseous?”

  “No, I’m a little stiff and sore, but overall I feel better than I did last night.”

  “Good, I’ll discharge you home. Take Motrin or Tylenol for the pain but if that doesn’t help or gets worse go to the closest ER. Enjoy your trip.”

  Patrick wakes as the doctor leaves the room, “Was that the doctor?”

  “It was, she told me to take Tylenol or Motrin for the pain and if that doesn’t work or the pain gets worse to go to the nearest emergency room.”

  “Good. I’ll help you into the shower and change then we can leave for D.C. early.”

  On the drive to the airport Patrick’s phone rings, looking at the screen, he answers it placing it on speaker phone. “Hello.”

  “Good Afternoon Mr. Love. This is detective Tin from the Bar Harbor police department.”

  “Yes, detective Tin, what can I do for you?”

  “I’m calling about Miss Miller’s car. We had a mechanic check her brakes and brake lines. We found a fray in one of the flex lines. He wasn’t sure if it was due to age or intentional. We have to rule it an accident. If anything is found to change that I will call you.”

  “Thank you, detective,” Patrick says ending the call.

  Chapter Nine

  “Is that your plane?” I ask dumbfounded. I would have never guessed we were taking a private plane to Washington D.C.

  “It’s my company’s plane, yes. I wanted to get to my condo in time to take you shopping tonight.”

  “How long will the flight be?”

  “About four hours. But don’t worry we have movies, games, books, hell there’s even a bed if you want to join the mile high club.”

  I giggle at the thought of joining the mile high club with Patrick, “Let’s put a pin in that, but how about we watch a movie.”

  “Okay,” Patrick says with a mischievous smile

  After the Capitan permits us to move around the cabin Patrick and I move to the sofa. Yes, this plane is large enough to not only have a bed but a full-size couch. The last plane I was on I got stuck in the aisle seat with barely enough room to stretch out my legs. Patrick turns on the TV and asks the flight attendant for a bowl of popcorn and two Cokes. Scrolling through our movies options, we settle on Tomb Raider staring Alicia Vikander. Curling into Patrick’s chest, I pull a black and red flannel blanket over us as the flight attendant returns with our popcorn and sodas.

  Patrick makes it an hour before he repositions me and nibbles on my neck, his hands roaming over my body. “Patrick someone will see,” I groan.

  “I don’t care,” he growls into my neck.

  “What about the movie?”

  “I’ll buy it for you when we get home. Now stop talking, it’s making it difficult to kiss you.”

  “Only if you make it good,” I tease.

  “Princess, you know I always make it good for you,” Patrick says picking me up and carrying me to the bedroom.

  Two and a half hours later the flight attendant is knocking on the bedroom door informing us we will land soon. Turning his attention from my breasts Patrick answers, “Thank you,” then returns to worshiping my breasts.

  “Patrick we need to get dressed.”

  “Do you really want me to stop?” Patrick asks before sucking my nipple into his mouth.

  “No,” I moan.

  “Don’t worry I’ll be quick-ish. We still have at least thirty minutes before we land.”

  Twenty-five minutes later as Patrick and I are lying in bed blissed out when the flight attendant returns knocking on the door. “Sorry to bother you Mr. Love, but I really need you and Miss. Miller to take your seats now.”

  “We’ll be right out,” I call out rolling out of Patrick’s arms to dress.

  “Come back here,” Patrick says making a grab for me.

  “Oh, no you don’t. Get dressed we need to take our seats.”

  “If I must,” Patrick pouts.

  Dressin
g quickly we leave the sanctuary of the bedroom taking our seats and buckling in as the landing gear is lowered. “You are a bad influence,” I say slapping Patrick on the arm.

  Patrick takes my hand kissing it, “Good you need a little bad influence in your life.”

  We disembark from the plane and into a waiting town car; Patrick asks him to take us to Barneys. The driver maneuvers us through the narrow streets and around other vehicles stopping in front of a large glass building, the driver jumps out of the car to open Patrick’s door, he steps onto the sidewalk first then helps me out of the car.

  As soon as we step through the door of Barneys, a woman named Nina takes my hand and leads me to a dressing room with Patrick in tow. “Mr. Love told me about the event you are attending; I took the liberty of picking out some gowns for you Miss. Miller.”

  “Umm, thank you. But how did you know my size?” I reply dumbfounded. If this is what shopping with Patrick is like I may actually enjoy it.

  Nina laughs, “Mr. Love told me when we spoke yesterday. Now gown sizes vary based on the designer, but we have a seamstress if any alterations need to be made.”

  The first gown Nina hands me is a puffy eighties throwback gown, it’s nice, but as soon as I step out of the dressing room to model it for Patrick, he bursts into laughter. “I guess that’s a no,” Nina mumbles.

  Next is a simple black gown, I like it, but Patrick shakes his head no. A vibrant blue backless dress is next, it’s nice but not fancy enough for this event. Last is a burgundy Narciso Rodriguez stretch-silk crepe open-back gown. I love it from the moment Nina hands it to me; it’s playful but also formal. Patrick must feel the same because he says, “We’ll take it,” as soon as he sees it. “Nina will you all arrange for matching shoes and accessories then bill it to my account? Can you also send the dress and shoes to my condo?”

  “Yes, Mr. Love. That will be no problem.” Turning to me Nina asks, “What is your shoe size, Miss. Miller?”

  “A six and a half,” I answer still in awe of how easy it is to shop with Patrick. Everything I want is at my fingertips; I can get used to this.

  “Perfect. I will send everything to your address by eight tonight, Mr. Love.”

  “Thank you, Nina, have a nice evening,” Patrick says taking my hand and leading us back to the waiting town car and asks the driver to take us to his condo. Thirty minutes later we stop at an ultra-modern complex. Exiting the vehicle, Patrick takes our bags from the driver then motions for me to follow him.

  “Which unit is yours?” I ask trying not to think about how much it must cost to live in the building.

  “The penthouse. What do you want to do tonight?”

  “I was hoping we could stay in tonight, I’m kind of tired,” I say sheepishly.

  “Perfect. I didn’t want to share you with anyone anyway. We can shower, order Chinese and watch movies.”

  The elevator doors open to a large foyer with a glass entry table with a red vase of white lilies. “Welcome to my humble abode,” Patrick says with a beaming smile.

  “I think we have a very different definition of humble.”

  The room fills with Patrick’s booming laughter. “Come on, let me show you around.” Walking into the belly of the condo we enter a huge living room with a seventy-five-inch TV with a large beige sectional couch that fills the room. The walls are an off-white with dark wood floors, the living room flows seamlessly into a kitchen with black marble countertops and stainless-steel appliances. The first floor is rounded out with two half bathrooms, and an office. The upstairs has three bedrooms, a guest bathroom, a small sitting room, and master suite.

  “This is our room,” Patrick says pushing open the door and tossing our bags onto the bed. There is a small sitting area in the left corner under the window, a large California king bed in the center of the room with dark mahogany bedside tables flanking the massive bed. There are two doors on the right side of the room; the first door is for the walk-in closet the size of my bedroom in Maine.

  Patrick leads me through the second door and into a massive on-suite with a glass shower that looks like something from the Jetsons; a soaking tub sits in the corner, with two vanities. After turning the water on for a shower, Patrick undresses me. He begins by lifting my T-shirt over my head then unhooking my bra tossing them to the floor. Next, he slides his hands down my sides to my jeans moving to the front and popping the button pulling my jeans and panties down and helping me into the shower. After tearing off his own clothes, Patrick follows me into the shower. Wrapping his arms around me Patrick presses his lips to my shoulder, “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m still a little sore but better than yesterday.”

  Pouring a healthy amount of shampoo into his large palm, Patrick massages it into my scalp careful not to touch where I hit my head on the steering wheel then taps on my shoulder when it’s time to rinse the soap from my hair. After I rinse the soap out Patrick coats each lock with conditioner before reaching for the body wash. Pouring a generous amount in his hand then rubs his hands together and gently cleans every inch of my body. Tapping on my shoulder again I rinse off the body wash and conditioner.

  Once I’m clean, I face him saying, “My turn,” reaching for the shampoo. Patrick bends at the waist leaning down letting me message shampoo into his scalp and coarse, curly hair. When I’m done I step back, and Patrick steps under the water. After the shampoo is rinsed out, I fill my small palms with body wash running my hands roaming over every inch of his body. Stepping back Patrick steps in the water rinsing the body wash away.

  When we are both clean Patrick turns the water off, opens the door and steps out wrapping a fluffy white towel around his waist then hands me a towel to wrap around my body. Taking my hand he leads me into the bedroom. “Let’s dress then I’ll order dinner.”

  We eat dinner in front of the TV watching the movie we started on the flight here. After dinner, I curl into Patrick’s side on the couch and watch movies.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  I’m staring at the beauty in the mirror. Her porcelain skin is perfect with just enough makeup to make her eyes look large and bright, and her lips look full and kissable; her raven locks are pulled into a timeless French twist. A knock on the door jolts me out of my thoughts, “Lena everything okay? We will need to leave in half an hour.” Opening the door, I find Patrick with a worried look on his face dressed in a black tux perfectly tailored to his muscular body.

  “Everything is fine I was finishing my hair and makeup. Do I look okay?”

  “Princess you look amazing.”

  I walk to the bed where my dress is laid out. Removing the blue silk bathrobe, I step in the dress and pull it up my body. Patrick steps behind me slowly drawing the zipper up placing a soft kiss on my shoulder before stepping back. I step into the heels Nina sent over and pick up the small clutch matching my dress.

  “Ready?” Patrick asks.

  Taking a deep breath, I answer, “As I’ll ever be to meet your parents and a presidential candidate.”

  “Don’t worry you’ll wow them all,” Patrick says leading me out of the condo and into the waiting elevator.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  I can’t stop fidgeting as we wait on in a long line of cars outside the Washington D.C. Four Seasons. Patrick places his hand over mine, “Please stop fidgeting you’re making me nervous, and I’ve known these people my whole life.”

  “But what if your parents don’t like me or worst they think I’m after your money. I mean I’m not poor, but I don’t have nearly as much money as you or your family,” I ramble. Patrick looks down at me lovingly and laughs. “It’s not funny Patrick; this is very serious. If your mother hates me, there is no way you will still want to be with me then what?”

  “Princess, gold diggers don’t care about impressing their marks parents. Besides, they will take one look at you and know you are not after me for my money. You’re only with me because I’m hot.”

  “Patrick,” I admonish him with
a light slap on the bicep.

  Scooting closer to me Patrick moves me to sit in his lap, “Lena, you have the worst poker face ever. As soon as you meet my parents, they will see your nerves and how much you care about me. Now, please stop worrying about my parents. Besides Dylan has already told them everything about you, they know you are a good girl who doesn’t care that I can buy and sell the whole state of Maine.”

  I gently touch my lips to his, “Thank you. You always know just what to say.”

  “It’s a gift. Now give me a real kiss,” Patrick says before crashing our lips together. Bryan, Patrick’s driver, clears his throat when we are the third car from the drop off point.

  “Now look at what you did. You have lipstick on your lips,” I tell Patrick wiping the remnants from his lips.

  Patrick shrugs, “I don’t care. I have the most gorgeous woman on my arm; I’m going to kiss her.” I finish removing the lipstick from Patrick’s lips as Bryan stops at the drop off point and the doorman opens my car door. He offers me his hand assisting me out of the car. Patrick joins me on the sidewalk, and the photographers waiting outside the hotel go crazy with rapid-fire shots and shouting questions.

  “Mr. Love please look this way.”

  “Mr. Love over here please.”

  “Mr. Love is it true you are no longer on the market?”

  Patrick takes my arm guiding me through the media gauntlet when someone yells, “Mr. Love who’s the arm candy with you tonight?”

  Patrick stops walking, turning to face the side where the question came from; I go ridged not sure how Patrick will react to that question. “This is my girlfriend, Lena Miller. I expect you to show her the same respect you show me,” Patrick yells into the crowd. Turning to the other side, he yells, “I guess that answers your question if I’m off the market. Yes, I am.” Patrick wraps his arm around my waist dipping me then kissing me long and hard for the cameras. When they begin to hoot as Patrick stands me up, and we finish our trip into the hotel.

  “What was that?” I ask whirling on Patrick when the cameras and prying eyes are on the other side of the door.