Gloria's Revenge (10 page)

My body stiffened as my heart skipped a beat. How could I tell him the truth behind this scar? So much of me wanted to blurt it out to this man I now belonged to, but I knew the moment I confessed my misdoing, my secret, he would leave me in a heartbeat. I tried hard to banish the memory. As always, it was futile. That nightmarish night replayed in my head in its full gory horror. A cool ocean breeze sent a shiver all over me and brought me back to the moment.

“No, she didn’t,” I stammered. “I ran away from her.” At least, I was being truthful about my relationship with her.

“Is she still alive?”

“I don’t know. And I don’t care. I’m sure she feels the same way.”

His eyes stayed fixed on the scar, his expression somber. “Did you try to commit suicide?”

Oh, God, why couldn’t he give it a rest?

“No.” I sucked in a deep breath. “Jaime, please. I can’t go there with you yet.”
And maybe never.

“Okay, Gloria, I get it. You can’t completely trust me. Maybe one day you will.”

I absorbed his words. My wishful thinking hoped he was right. Calming myself with another deep breath, I moved away from the past and jumped into the future.

“So, Mr. Imagination, how do you envision us having a long distance relationship?” With three thousand miles separating us, it wasn’t going to be easy.

He toyed with my braid again. “Like I always say, where there’s a will, there’s a way. I’m thinking we shoot the Gloria’s Secret campaign out here in some decadent Beverly Hills or Hancock Park mansion. I can also fly out here on weekends. In between, I expect to Skype you regularly. Not just in your office. I want you to take your laptop or tablet to bed every night. I’m going to go to sleep with you and wake up to you every day.”

The thought of having both virtual good-night and wake-up sex with my sexy, creative beast on a daily basis sent hot tingles to my already zinging core.

“And what about Victor?” I was pushing hard for answers.

“Fuck the bastard. He won’t be around.” I could feel every muscle in his body constrict.

Before I could probe further, his cell phone rang. With his free arm, he reached for it. It was in a pocket of his white linen pants. He put the phone to his ear and listened.

His mouth twitched. “Yeah, babe, I haven’t forgotten. I’ll see you there soon.” With that, he ended the call and sat up, lifting me up with him. He glanced down at his Rolex.

“Gloria, I’ve got to go. I have to meet with a client.”

“That client you call babe?” My tone was sharp. I needed to know.

“Yeah, that one. Stop worrying about her. It’s a very important meeting, but she’s nothing to me.” His brows furrowed and his face tensed. “Please trust me, Gloria.”

I still didn’t know whether to believe him.
Or
trust him. I fidgeted with my
toi et
moi
ring. This was not the way to enter into a relationship.

“No problem. I’ve got a meeting too.”
Vivien.

My blood was boiling. He sensed my unease. Playing with my disheveled braid, he swept the tip of it across my lower lip. “Listen, angel, I want you to call me around seven thirty. If the meeting with my client goes well and I get the information I need, we can have dinner.”

I did the math in my head. That would give me just enough time to have drinks with Vivien and then meet him; The Ivy was just a two minute drive to Shutters, if that, in fact, was where he was meeting his client. There was no need for him to know about my plans, and Vivien was one name that I wanted to keep out of our relationship. That and Victor’s.

He lifted me to my feet. The sun, a great big orange ball of fire, was setting into the ocean. It must have been close to five; I’d lost track of time. Reality set back in. It was time to face the storm and return to my office.

We both hastily donned our clothes. I pivoted toward the car, but before I could take a step, he grabbed me by the waist, flipped me around, and sent me orbiting with another long, lingering passionate kiss. I didn’t want it to end. In my heart, I hoped he’d be free for dinner…and save me for dessert. And tell me he loved me.

Chapter 10

J
aime managed to get me back to my office just in time for me to change back into my suit and meet Vivien at The Ivy. Truthfully, I was wiped out from the day’s events and wanted to go back to my condo and rest up, just in case Jaime was free for dinner. I thought about canceling drinks and even called Vivien on her cell phone. It rang several times and then went straight to her voice mail. Damn it! I couldn’t stand her up. I was stuck having drinks with her. Just before I left my office, I checked my e-mails and messages on my cell phone, which I’d left behind while on my excursion with Jaime. Fuck! Almost all of them were from Victor. I played the first one. The tone of his voice was menacing. “Where the hell are you, Gloria? You’re not in your office, and you’re not picking up your cell. Call me!” There were several more of these messages, each one angrier than the one before, as well as numerous all-caps shouty e-mails and texts. Screw him! Let him stew. I threw my cell phone into my purse, and with my briefcase in my other hand, I waltzed out of my office, lightheaded with the thought of possibly seeing Jaime later.

On my way out of the building, I passed by numerous employees. With bright smiles, they bid me good night; some even mentioned how awesome my speech was today. A warm feeling radiated throughout me. I was blessed to have so many wonderful employees. They worked long hours and were dedicated to their jobs. And they were dedicated to me. The thought of losing them sent a ripple of sadness through me. I told myself, it was not going to happen. I wasn’t very convincing.

I made it to The Ivy at exactly six thirty. The LA rush hour traffic was the only thing I couldn’t take about this city. It was insane. Fifteen years ago when I’d moved to The City of Angels, it took only twenty minutes to get from place to place. Now, it took forty—if you were lucky. Tonight I was lucky.

I left my Porsche with the valet outside the restaurant, tipping the attendant extra to keep it parked nearby. “Time equals money,” I always preached, and with the stock crisis, every minute counted. I strode into the popular restaurant and headed straight to the tropical-themed bar. It was already packed with attractive men and women, enjoying an after-work drink or waiting for a table to dine. One of my favorite songs, Leona Lewis’s “Bleeding Love,” was playing in the background. My eyes scanned the area. Vivien, not known for her punctuality, was nowhere to be found. I immediately called her on my cell phone, wanting to know her whereabouts. No answer. I left her a message, asking to call or text me with her estimated time of arrival. And then another thought crossed my mind. Perhaps, she had reserved a table inside the restaurant. I headed back to the hostess holding court near the entrance.

“Could you please tell me if Vivien Holden has a reservation for two at six thirty?” I asked.

Standing behind a podium, the bubbly blonde, for sure a young, aspiring actress with her bombshell looks, scanned her reservations log. Her face brightened. “Yes!” She gazed up at me. “Are you, by chance, Ms. Long?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“Follow me,” she said with a wide smile. “Ms. Holden is expecting you.”

Keeping up with her, I had to say I was impressed that Vivien had thought ahead and made a table reservation. Noisy bars with horny singles were just not my thing.

“She’s seated in the corner table to the right,” said the hostess as we wove through the busy restaurant.

My eyes darted in that direction and my heart dropped to the floor.

Sure enough, there was Vivien, all dolled up. And cozied up next to her was a drop dead handsome man with his lips latched onto hers in a passionate embrace. Jaime Zander!

I stood paralyzed in shock. Every ounce of blood drained from my system. A bullet had once almost tore through my heart. This time it was as if it didn’t miss. The excruciating pain didn’t give rage a chance.

“Are you okay?” asked the hostess.

At first, I couldn’t get my mouth to move; it hung open but it was like my jaw was wired shut. I fortified myself with a deep painful breath, forcing reason and movement back into my being. “Yes,” I stuttered. “I can take it from here.”

The hostess, oblivious to the turmoil raging inside me, told me to enjoy my evening and skirted away.

Run, don’t walk,
my inner voice urged. Which way? Out the door? My legs were buried in cement. I still couldn’t get them to move.

Then, without warning, a sudden rush of adrenaline surged inside me. I stormed up to them. They were still in a heated embrace.

“Is this your business client?” I grinded out the words as burning tears sprung to my eyes.

The familiar sound of my voice stopped Jaime in his tracks. He abruptly jerked away from Vivien and gazed up at me. His face was drained of color, and his eyes were as round as two blue marbles. “Jesus fucking Christ” he gasped in shock.

“Fuck you!” I screamed back at him.

Vivien flung her head back and raked her fingers through her perfectly blown Cleopatra-styled hair. Some doctor’s appointment—she’d spent the afternoon beautifying for her hot date. She was perfectly made up, and her tight little red dress practically still had the price tag on it. A wicked, triumphant smile flitted across her face. “So nice to see you, Gloria. Do you want to join us? Jaime was just telling me about all the good ideas he has to get Gloria’s Secret back on track.”

My eyes lanced into him. He remained speechless. Hurt and rage continued to battle for the prize of my broken heart. How could have I fallen for him? Put everything I had into him? Believed what he’d told me only a few hours ago? Let myself think there was a future with him? Suddenly, I felt god damn fucking stupid. I’d been played. Played by that vixen bitch Vivien, who cleverly lured me here, and used by a bastard sex god who used his cock to get to me and win my account. I’d been deceived. Totally, terribly deceived.

Jaime attempted to say something. “Gloria, I had no idea—”

I cut him off. “Take your fucking ring back. There is no
toi et moi
!” Burning now with rage, I tore the ring off my middle finger and hurled it at him. It bounced off his rock-hard chest and landed with a loud ping somewhere on the floor. My shaking finger stung like hell. I glanced down at it. Fuck. I’d torn off a sizeable chunk of skin on my knuckle. It was raw and bleeding.

“Ooh, that must hurt,” cooed Vivien.

My finger throbbed, but it was nothing compared to the throbbing in my heart.

Alarmed, Jaime jumped to his feet and reached for my hand. “Let me see your finger.”

I jerked my hand away from him. “Don’t touch me!” I hissed.

I snatched a clean napkin off the table and wrapped it around the wound. With tears scorching down my face, I raced out of the restaurant.

Thank goodness, I’d given the valet an extra ten bucks to keep my car parked nearby. It was still sitting in front of the restaurant. The cool ocean breeze sent goose bumps all over me.

“That’s my car,” I told one of the attendants, pointing to the black Porsche with my good hand. My voice was hurried. Panicked.

“The key’s inside.” Catching sight of the now bloodstained napkin wrapped around my other hand, he sensed my urgency.

Without wasting a second, I stepped off the curve and rounded my car to the driver’s side door. As I gripped the cold metal handle with my good hand, I felt two powerful hands clutch my waist. They spun me around, and I was face-to-face with the man I never wanted to see again. Jaime Zander.

“Let go of me, you bastard!” I tried to squirm away, but it was futile. He held on to me too firmly.

His intense denim blues gazed into my wretched, watering eyes. “Gloria, it’s not what you think. You don’t understand. Please. You
have
to trust me.”

“Trust you? You want me to trust you?”
God fucking damn it
. “I
did
trust you. I let you fuck me till I fell apart. I just wasn’t counting on you to make my heart fall apart so soon.” My nostrils flared as I sobbed. “You and Vivien belong together.”

Desperation swept over his face. “No, I belong with you, angel.”

“Don’t ever call me that!” Tears flocked my eyes. I turned my head away from him. With one hand, he clenched my jaw, forcing me to look his way. I resisted.

“Stop it! You’re hurting me.”

He immediately let go, and I turned on my own to face him.

His eyes bore into mine, but his voice was soft and repentant. “I’m sorry, angel. I’ve never meant to hurt you.”

“Well, you could have fooled me.” Tears streamed down my face. I was worn out, physically and emotionally. I pleaded with him one more time: “Please. Let. Me. Go.”

To my relief, he released me and stepped back. He lowered his long-lashed eyes. “I’m sorry, angel. I wish I could explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain. Actions speak louder than words.” With that, I clambered into the car, slamming the door behind me. I frantically locked it before he could yank it open. Cursing, he punched the roof as I threw the sports car into first gear. Fuck him! Without another look at him, I floored the gas pedal and peeled away with an ear-piercing screech.

My hands shook on the steering wheel, and tears blinded my vision as I turned right off Ocean Avenue onto Wilshire Boulevard. Thank god, it was just one short, straight line back to my condo. My finger throbbed, and my heart was running a marathon with despair at the finish line. How could I have let this man get to me? How could I have been so spineless, so gullible? So stupid? I hated Jaime. I hated Vivien. But most of all, I hated myself.

The sound of a loud horn blared in my ears. Distraught and distracted, I ran a red light and narrowly missed being hit. Shit. I was totally out of control. Silently, I prayed I wouldn’t get into an accident. In my condition, I wasn’t meant to be on the road.
Focus,
Gloria, focus!
My face wet with tears and my emotions raging like a hurricane, I somehow managed to make it to my high-rise building. Coming to a skidding stop, I left the car with the valet and dashed past the doorman to the elevator before he could greet me. I pounded the call button and headed straight into the arms of the one person in the world I
could
trust. Kevin Riley.

Kevin’s condo was one floor below mine. While not as big as my two-story penthouse, it was nonetheless spacious and enjoyed views of the city all around. It was impeccably furnished with high-end Italian furniture that complimented framed black and white photographs, mostly of beautiful men, on the walls.

“Holy shit, Glorious. What’s wrong?” he gasped at the sight of me. With my tear-streaked face, bloodshot eyes, and bloody bandaged hand, I must have been a sorrowful sight. I kicked off my heels at the entrance and let myself fall into him, burying my head on his chest. After letting me sob like that for several long minutes, he wrapped a comforting arm around me and ushered me into his apartment. “Tell me everything.”

I collapsed into one of his comfy cream leather club chairs, folding my good hand over the other with the makeshift bandage. Though I thought the bleeding had stopped, my finger throbbed more than ever. I continued to cry ugly tears. “Oh, Kev, I caught Jaime with Vivien. He told me in Paris there was nothing between them. He lied to me! He was all over her.” I launched into the day’s events—of how Jaime had driven me to his seaside property and made a commitment to me and of how Vivien had set me up to prove he was a two-timing prick.

Reddening with rage, Kevin slammed his fist onto the arm of the chair; his temper was equal to Jaime’s. “Fucking Vivien!”

“No, not fucking Vivien. Fucking bastard. Stupid me. It’s probably better I found out now that he was a cheating asshole and was just using me.”

I lifted my good hand to wipe my tears. Kevin’s eyes immediately took hold of the bloodstained napkin wrapped around the other on my lap. Alarm swept over him.

“Glorious, what did you do to your hand?”

I slowly unwrapped the napkin. The damaged finger made my whole hand tremble, the ugly wound red and raw. “I tore off my skin when I tore off his ring.”

Though not adverse to blood, Kevin scrunched up his face. “Sheesh, that looks really nasty.” He rose from the couch. “Don’t move. I’m going to patch it up.”

A faint but grateful smile spread across my tear-soaked face. As he sauntered off, I thought about how lucky I was to have him in my life. My mind flashed back to our final days in Brighton Beach…hiding out in the small one-bedroom apartment we shared…Kevin taking care of me as I lay feverishly in his bed with an infected bullet wound…falling in and out of consciousness…waking to find him cleaning the wound and changing the dressing while my body shook from pain and fever. He nursed me back to health, with the help of a local doctor whose children he’d once tutored, and masterminded our escape. Our new life. Yes, Kevin was the only person I could trust in the world.

One short minute later, he was back with first aid—clutching a bottle of peroxide, some cotton balls, and a box of Gloria’s Secret adhesive bandages in his hands.