Her Perfect Revenge (15 page)

"I see you have a PhD in cooking as well as in vomiting," Christina cracked.

Bill laughed. "Actually, I do. Mom made me learn how to cook. She said I'd need those skills one day when my father would throw me out on my spoiled, rich ass."

In spite of herself, Christina laughed. "Did she really?"

"Oh yes. She had Eudora teach me. And I can do laundry too. Separate the whites from the dark and the prints. I know when to use hot water, when to use cold and when to use bleach. I'm very accomplished, you know." There—that brought another smile to that enchanting face of hers, Bill thought.

"Your mother sounds like a very smart lady."

"She left my dad, didn't she?"

Christina detected a hint of sadness there but if true, that might mean he was actually human? She pushed the food tray to the side. "I'm not hungry, right now. I think I'll just get some sleep."

Bill gave her a quick smile. "If you need anything, you can reach me anytime on my cell." He reached into his pocket and handed her his business card.

Christina mumbled a "thanks". Need him? Need him for what? There was nothing she'd ever need him for.

He bent down and gave the goldfish bowl on her bedside table a tap on the glass. "Watch over her, Samson," he said to the little fish.

He straightened, gave her a smile and walked out.

Christina breathed a sigh of relief. He was making her uncomfortable and she refused to examine why.

In spite of herself, Christina did sleep. What with the tension of meeting the wedding planner, the disgusting kiss she'd shared with the louse and the 'being sick-fainting' episode, her energy levels had been severely depleted.

She finally woke up at 11 p.m. later that night.

Something had been digging into her cheek and she'd awoken to find that her diamond engagement ring on her left hand was sandwiched between her face and her pillow.

Damn Bill Havenwood! He wouldn't even let her sleep in peace!

Irritated, she pulled the ring off her finger and slapped it beside Samson's goldfish bowl. The diamond twinkled at her in the lamplight. That thing was worth $250,000 and if she lost it, she'd really be screwed. Christina reached for it and slipped it back on. She couldn't afford to take that chance even if she found wearing rings cumbersome. They'd never been her favorite piece of jewelry.

She looked over at Samson swimming back and forth in his bowl. "Trapped in a goldfish bowl, are you Samson? I know exactly how you feel," Christina sighed.

Throwing her blanket off, Christina slowly got up and tested her legs. They weren't wobbly anymore. She took a few steps. Yes, her strength was back.

She thought back on the day's events and it was time to face facts. Christina knew exactly why she'd gotten sick.

This hadn't been a flu bug or food poisoning. She'd gotten sick because Bill Havenwood had kissed her—and she'd kissed him back—and the strong physical attraction she seemed to have for him disgusted her mentally, emotionally and physically.

That was it in a nutshell.

Bill Havenwood had been responsible for making her the laughing stock of the school. He'd ruined her reputation with that sexual disease letter. He'd orchestrated an entire class to throw condoms at her and he'd been the cause of her parents sending her to boarding school for four years.

Because of his drunken antics, she'd been sent away from her friends, her parents and her home.

Did she still hate him? Christina felt a tickle in her solar plexus. Hell, yes—even though she now seemed to want him in her pants too! But why? What was this all about?

She was probably starved for physical contact, that was it. She hadn't been involved in a relationship for over a year and her traitorous body was just responding to his male proximity. And the bastard was movie star handsome, there was that too.

Yes—that was it.

Happy with her logical explanation, Christina's stomach, suddenly, rumbled. She was hungry. After all, what she'd eaten that day had ended up allover his designer suit.

Putting on her silk robe, Christina left her bedroom and headed for the kitchen. There was always lots of food in the two massive refrigerators the staff kept stocked there.

The house was quiet as Christina made her way down the curving staircase. As she passed William's office, she noticed the door was slightly ajar and she suddenly could hear angry voices coming from inside.

It was William and Bill.

And they were yelling…

And they were yelling—about her.

She stealthily plastered herself in a dark alcove where she could listen and not be seen. Inside the room, William and Bill were standing facing each other with William's ornate desk wedged between them.

William was yelling at his son. "My fault? How in blue blazes hell is Christina getting sick today my fault?"

"Stop pushing her with all your goddamn wedding plans. For Christ sake, you booked the church… the church… without even talking to us first! How do you think that makes her feel?" Bill yelled back.

"I'll tell you how it should make her feel—elated, elated… that's how. If you two are as in love as you say you are, she should be thanking me for pressuring your lazy, noncommittal ass to the altar. Do you think I'm going to leave this all up to you?"

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what it means. You either want to get married or you don't. And I'm not going to have you string that girl along until you decide what you want to do." William was shouting now at full volume.

"You don't decide my life for me, old man and you don't decide Christina's life for her either, so back off!" Bill growled like a menacing dog.

William was taken aback by his son's words. Bill had never spoken to him in this tone before. He'd never stood up to him in such a forceful, 'stand-my-ground' stance. It was the first time William had seen Bill act like a man and refuse to be bullied by him.

And it was all because of the girl.

That little slip of a girl.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

William wasn't finished yelling at his son just yet. "What happened to Christina today wasn't my fault, it was yours!"

"My fault?"

"Yes, yours. Don't think I didn't see you pawing her out there like one of your damned, cheap girlfriends."

Outside the office, Christina began to blush. It was surreal. It felt like they were talking about someone else. But they weren't, they were talking about her.

Bill was yelling again, "We were kissing. It's what engaged couples do. Has it been that long for you, that you've forgotten…dad?"

"Watch your smart, goddamn mouth! I'm still you're father."

"I know who you are; you don't have to remind me."

"Well, let me remind you about this. That girl upstairs is wearing your ring. Make sure you don't hurt her with your foolish ways."

"And what the hell do you mean by that?"

"I mean that for once in your life, stand up and be a man."

"And what's that dad? Two point five kids and a retirement plan? I don't conform to cookie-cutter molds and you never… in your entire miserable, selfish life… understood that about me."

"You're wrong! I've understood that quite well. Why do you think I've put up with and financed your lazy, irresponsible, drunken antics all these years? But this time it's different. If you truly love her as you say you do, then by Jove I want to see you shape up, start showing up to work everyday and stop whoring around at night."

"Meaning?" Bill was fuming.

"Don't think I don't know you're always coming home in the wee hours of the morning, drunk after a night of debauchery with who knows how many of your cheap, slut women."

"Jealous, dad?"

Christina could almost picture Bill smirking.

"If I was younger, I'd put my fist in that goddamn, smart mouth of yours," William retorted.

There was a pause and then Christina heard Bill threateningly say in a soft voice, "Just try it."

There was another long pause as the two men stared each other down.

"Don't threaten me," William broke the silence first.

"No, that's your department, isn't it, dad; threats, lies, deceit. Well, I may be a lazy, drunken bum but at least I'm honest with myself. I know who and what I am; and I don't pretend to be anything else."

"Meaning I do?"

"You are a ruthless savage hiding behind a veneer of sophistication. Look at you. You don't give a damn about me or anyone else. You certainly never cared about mom."

"Don't bring your mother into this! She left me," William shouted.

"No, dad. You left her a long time before she ever walked out on you. You were never there for her."

"I was building a business… something you wouldn't know the first thing about."

"Yeah, I guess we lazy, drunken bums don't qualify as CEO material."

William wagged his finger at his son. "You listen to me. If you love that girl, as you claim, then you'll change your ways and show her some respect. Otherwise, call it off now. What's it going to be?"

William was trying to get his immature, irresponsible son to break under pressure but the boy didn't seem to be budging. William was surprised. His offspring seemed to be made of tougher stuff than he'd thought.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

"If the lecture's over, I'm leaving," Christina heard a seething Bill grit through his teeth before he walked to the office door and pushed it open with a fierce shove.

The door swung wildly open and slammed against the opposite wall, missing Christina by inches. She gasped softly in shock before slinking even deeper into the shadows.

She then heard William yelling after his son, "Where the hell are you going?"

Bill was striding towards the front doors. "Out and as far away from this goddamn hellhole as I can get!" he threw back so loudly that Christina was sure the entire house must have heard it.

He then strode out of the house and seconds later, she heard the roar of the Jaguar engine rear up and the car squealed away. The house was silent.

Wow, Christina thought. What she'd heard had been incredible. The way Bill had stood up to his father—for her—believing William to be the cause of her illness today. But that didn't make sense. Bill Havenwood was a selfish, worm-of-a-dirt-bag who would never jeopardize his standing with his moneybags father to protect someone else, especially someone like her, a pawn he was blackmailing into doing his bidding.

That wasn't like him at all. He must be up to something and Christina would find out tonight. In fact, if Mr. Maggot had just zoomed away in his Jag, now would be the perfect time for her to snoop in his bedroom for clues. She doubted he'd be back soon, not after the way he'd stormed out.

Quietly, Christina disappeared into the dark shadows of the foyer.

* * *

Dumbfounded, William sat down at his desk. He'd never witnessed such a display from his son before. Bill had actually stood up to him like a man, especially if that 'man' was protecting his 'woman'. It was almost as if he really cared for Christina. Did he? Did his son have feelings for her?

One thing was certain—the girl had spunk, smarts and courage; and she seemed to be bringing out those same qualities in his son.

Interesting... very interesting.

* * *

Christina entered his chocolate brown, masculine bedroom. Her eyes scanned the massive room, which was being illuminated by two table lamps on either side of his bed.

She moved quickly to the bedside table on the left. Opening it, she began to rifle through it. There was the usual stuff—cough drops, tissue box, aspirin, some quarters—and a couple of smut magazines. Christina rolled her eyes up. Figures, she thought to herself.

She quickly moved to the other bedside table. She opened it and found it filled with books. But wait—Bill Havenwood didn't read. What was he doing with books? She remembered hearing the stories in high school about how he was always too busy partying to study. After she'd left the school, Jenny had told her the rumor was he'd even paid people to write term papers for him.

She pulled out some of the books. There were some on politics, some on the environment and others on business and—good God—there was even a Bible.
A Bible???
Maybe Hell had actually frozen over! Christina shook her head in disbelief.

Very strange.

Closing the drawer, she moved to his armoires. Socks, underwear, belts—the rogue kept a pretty clean ship but that was easy to do when you had an army of servants picking up after you.

She slid open his closet doors and Christina gasped. There must have been fifty designer suits in there, not to mention his other clothes. His closets ran the length of the room and since his room was huge, so were they. She took a deep breath. She was going to check every pocket in every jacket, shirt and pair of pants if it killed her tonight. She just had to find something on him, she just had to.

On the 36th suit jacket pocket, she found a piece of paper with an address on it. 1625 Shelley Avenue. It probably meant nothing but Christina decided to keep it.

She finished going through all of the pockets. Other than some matches, a tissue and some change, there was nothing else.

Christina then moved to his private bathroom. Other than more aspirin—probably for his daily hangovers—his colognes, shaving stuff and a couple boxes of condoms—again Christina rolled her eyes up—there was nothing there either.

Well, this fishing expedition had been a dud! If Bill Havenwood had any secrets—and Christina was positive he did—they weren't hiding in his room. Quietly, she slipped out.

* * *

She couldn't sleep that night.

She was too well rested from the sleep she'd had after being sick, to feel tired now. So, she was wide-awake when she heard him come home at 4:50 a.m.

The mother-of-all-fights he'd had with his father happened around 11 p.m. Where had he been this whole time?

With Stephie, his rich-bitch girlfriend, that's where!

And they'd probably been having sex all night long, wrapped in each other's arms, kissing, caressing, making love. Christina felt a tidal wave of jealousy sweep over her. And the feeling was so overpowering that she couldn't kid herself any longer.

This was jealousy! Pure, pea-green jealousy! But why was she feeling this way? And about him, of all people? She hated him! It didn't make sense. She must be insane.