Vengeful Desires

Chapter 2

Mirabelle couldn’t do this. “I will give you a thousand,” she whispered into her phone as she stepped into the luxurious large bathroom with shiny floors, too many mirrors, and a heavy scent of pine in the air. “Just dress up and come take my place.”

Of course, Kara laughed in her ear as though Mirabelle were cracking a joke. She was. Not really.

“Is it that bad?” Kara asked when she managed to stop cackling down the phone.

Mirabelle refrained from answering until she had made sure the bathroom was empty. Then she slipped into the stall furthest from the door, dropped the toilet lid, and sat down with a heavy sigh, glad to be off her heels for a second.

“You know how these things get,” Mirabelle finally answered, keeping her voice low.

“Uhm. Actually, I don’t.”

Mirabelle rolled her eyes. “Which is why it would be a good idea if you could disguise yourself as me and take my place. What you don’t know won’t kill you.”

Another burst of laughter came over the phone. “Yeah. I don’t think that would work. I think someone would spot the differences before I even made it through the door. That’s if my cheap blood doesn’t make them gag the moment I’m within a mile of the place.”

Mirabelle snorted, already imagining all the rich, pompous executives and their Barbie doll replica partners all splattering their expensive champagne all over their fancy clothes and shoes because of someone like Kara. Not that Mirabelle was any better than her best friend. But the snobs made an exception for her because of Dwayne’s diamond on her finger, and she knew it.

“It would probably happen,” Mirabelle conceded with a soft chuckle. She inhaled then and exhaled like the world was on her shoulders. “Would have been lovely if we could pull it off, though,” she muttered dejectedly.

Kara released a contemplative hum. “Only Hollywood could pull off such a transformation, sweetie.”

Mirabelle pouted even though it was ridiculous and her friend was right. Kara’s skin was a shade or two lighter than Mirabelle’s. While they both had shoulder-length hair, Kara’s was a much darker shade, almost black, and straight, a total contrast from Mirabelle’s warm honey color that never seemed to straighten. Much to her frustration. Fortunately, she had mustered the art of hair clips and styling products with Kara’s help because Dwayne liked it pinned up without a strand out of place.

Their bodies weren’t that different unless someone took note of the slight flare on Mirabelle’s hips that Kara clearly lacked. But the most telling difference was the sleeves of tattoos Kara had inked into her skin. Mirabelle’s mother would have killed her if she ever dared marred her skin like that. Not that she hadn’t thought of it.

“How much longer do you have to be there?” Kara asked, concern heavy in her voice, even though she had been laughing just seconds before.

Mirabelle sighed, closed her eyes, and resisted the urge to rub at her face. She couldn’t afford to mess up the light makeup so carefully applied. “Dwayne still needs to network,” she said miserably.

“While your brain cells die from all the Gucci and Chanel talk?”

A half-hearted laugh broke out of Mirabelle. “I swear my brain cells are really dying. Really? How many hours does it take to talk about shoes and belts? Makes me wonder if these women f**k themselves with the damn shoes or if their husbands actual-”

The sound of the bathroom door suddenly being slammed shut froze the rest of that sentence in Mirabelle’s throat. She blinked wide, horrified eyes at the closed stall door in front of her, fighting the urge to lift her feet off the floor and pretend she wasn’t there.

“Belle?” Kara called on the phone she still held to her ear.

“Shh,” Mirabelle shushed her friend, straining to hear any movement outside the door. But there was nothing.

Over the line, Kara laughed again, having guessed what had likely happened. “Oh, you are in so much trouble,” she drawled with way too much humor.

Mirabelle scowled. “You are so not my best friend anymore.”

Kara’s only response was to cackle again.

Feeling irritated and a little worried about who might have overheard her, Mirabelle hung up before she and Kara got into it and they ended up saying something else more damaging. Barely half a minute later, she received a text message from Kara.

Kara: I’ll be waiting to hear about whatever trophy doll you offended.

Mirabelle rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile that stretched her lips. Talking to her best friend had lifted her mood ten times and she wouldn’t regret it, even though she was probably in trouble with some silicone-saturated human version of Barbie after being overheard.

It was unfortunate that she couldn’t hide in the bathroom stall all night. Five minutes later, Mirabelle was back in the main hall where the charity dinner was being held. It was disheartening to realize nothing had changed in the time she had hidden away in the bathroom. Although Mirabelle wasn’t sure what she had hoped would change, the floor suddenly opening and swallowing the men and women dressed in overpriced suits and dinner dresses would have been a good start.

She dared a glance toward the group of women she had been pretending to chat with before her bathroom escape and nearly shuddered when she saw the wife to the board chairman of an advertising firm lift her handbag a little as she spoke and pointed at the strap. Yeah. No. Mirabelle shook her head. She wasn’t going back there.

Looking around the vast room, she realized her options were limited, though. She couldn’t spot Dwayne. That wasn’t surprising. As the son of Leland Fowler, the founder of Fowler Pharmaceuticals - one of the largest pharmaceutical companies in the world, Dwayne was a very important person at these events.

Unfortunately for her, as his soon-to-be wife, Mirabelle got dragged to every one of them and was forced to wear a smile and pretend she cared about the latest brands in fashion and the best holiday destinations. It was torture. Not that Mirabelle had grown up in abject poverty and didn’t fit into the discussions. No. She just didn’t have an interest. Much to her mother’s continuous disbelief.

It also probably didn’t help that Mirabelle knew something the others in the hall had no clue about. Dwayne was more than just the son of a billionaire. Every time she saw him smile and shake hands with the executives around them, she could only wonder what they would do if they knew. Not that they could do anything. Not if they wanted to keep breathing and see another sunrise.

Lucky for her, she loved the man, she mused for the second time that evening. Mirabelle frowned at the thought. Somehow the idea of loving Dwayne no longer made her stomach flutter as though butterflies had broken free of their cage. That was unsettling.

Maybe it was just stress and fatigue, she pondered. Truth be told, her feet ached, and she was in serious need of a drink. Scanning the room to make sure Dwayne was still out of sight, she turned away from the crowd and walked over to the long bar that took up an entire length of the wall.

It wasn’t easy to navigate around so many people who were so used to not moving for anyone, but Mirabelle made it happen. But by the time she had a clear path to the bar, her nose twitched from all the expensive choking scents in the air.

Thankfully, as though some celestial being had finally taken pity on her for the night, one of the bartenders stopped and smiled at her before she even reached the smooth mahogany counter. Mirabelle readily returned the smile, not above using a little charm to get faster service.

“Hi,” Mirabelle said through her smile. She didn’t bother to scan what they had on offer. “Could I please have a glass of Negroni?”

The guy’s smile didn’t falter. Which was a good sign she would get her drink. And if he was surprised by her choice of liquor, he kept it to himself, and Mirabelle was grateful. Unfortunately, not everyone knew how to mind their own business, Mirabelle realized when a deep male voice spoke behind her.

“A Negroni seems a little too harsh for a woman dressed like an angel,” the deep voice said.

Seriously? Irritation surged and without thinking, Mirabelle turned on her heels, her teeth clenched and ready to tell the man where to shove his condescending tone. Then her eyes landed on the man and her words froze in her throat.