Vengeful Desires

Chapter 3

For a moment, she stared, her mind and body reacting unexpectedly to the man who had spoken. Then Mirabelle blinked, swallowed, and cleared her throat. She felt the heat of embarrassment fill her cheeks when she realized she had been staring at the stranger for longer than was probably appropriate.

The barely concealed smirk on the man’s surprisingly full lips confirmed that she had been staring too long and she felt even more foolish. But then the man’s eyes crawled over her body in such a way she almost wondered if her dress had become transparent or completely vanished from her body. She wanted to wrap her arms around herself.

Thankfully, the bartender chose that moment to gracefully place her drink in front of her. Mirabelle smiled at the man, picked up the glass, and took a long swallow that lacked all the decorum expected of her at such an event.

“Whoa,” the stranger said, a smile evident in his voice. “Take it easy, beautiful.”

Mirabelle turned her head to the side and looked at the man again. He had moved to stand next to her at the bar, so her view of his face was now in profile, but it wasn’t less captivating.

He wasn’t the most handsome man she had ever laid eyes on. Hell, Mirabelle thought most would have considered him a seven out of ten on the scale. But the way he carried himself and the way he had stared at her from intense deep brown eyes had made goosebumps break out over her skin and warmth gathered in very unwanted places.

Even then, he quirked a bushy eyebrow at her and scratched long fingers along his stubble-covered jaw almost lazily. Thick shoulders and arms filled out the jacket he wore; coupled with the short curls he hadn’t bothered to do anything about on his head and Mirabelle hazarded a guess that suits and expensive champagne were not this man’s normal Friday night activity.

“You are staring again,” the man’s deep voice said.

Mirabelle’s eyes shot up and met his amused gaze. “Uhm. Sorry,” she blurted out and turned away, lifting her drink back to her lips. Damn it! She had to stop doing that. What was wrong with her?

The man chuckled. He shifted so his elbow rested on the mahogany wood and faced her fully. “No worries. I’m just flattered.”

A scoff escaped her before she could hold back. And just like that, whatever daze she had felt at suddenly facing this man simmered down and a few of her brain cells came back online to rescue her dignity.

“Don’t be,” Mirabelle said with as much attitude as she could muster. “I wasn’t impressed. Merely shocked.”

“Shocked?”

She shrugged a single shoulder and took another small sip from her glass, welcoming the bitter taste. “You are not exactly what I expected in this crowd.”

The man’s brows nearly touched his hairline and then he gave the room behind her a casual sweep of his eyes before he focused his gaze back on her. “I guess almost everyone here has lots of gray hair and excessively expensive taste.”

After giving his suit a pointed look for a second, Mirabelle responded. “It is not the clothes that make the man.”

Suddenly, a large grin took over the man’s face, making Mirabelle’s heart skip a beat. Her body’s reaction stunned her, but damn. If she thought he was a seven before, the smile had just shot him up to a nine and then some. But then he spoke, and she wanted to slap herself for appreciating his good looks even a little.

“That’s so true. You are dressed like a lady. And you look as innocent as an angel, but you are taking that drink down like someone who would be more comfortable in torn jeans. Probably seated in a worn down booth at a local bar.”

“How dare you?” Mirabelle’s hackles rose even though the man’s assumption had been spot on. She turned and glared at him, only half realizing that the bartender was following their little exchange too closely for comfort. She should have been careful. Mirabelle knew this was how scandals were born and both Dwayne and her mother would never forgive her if she got dragged into one.

Dwayne. The thought of her fiancé, the only man she should have been appraising on the handsome scale, made her cheeks burn and she instinctively brought her hands together to play with the diamond ring around her finger.

Her current annoying disruption to a few moments of peace, of course, easily caught the action and his smile faltered a little. Then he jerked his chin toward her hands. “Nice ring. When is the big day?”

“That’s-”

“Mirabelle!” a female voice suddenly called in excitement.

Mirabelle snapped her mouth shut, turned toward the voice, and felt the blood leave her face in one thundering heartbeat. She could see Lucinda saunter over to her from the crowd in a tight blue one-shoulder MONOT that had a cut starting from under the woman’s right breast and went around to the back.

Shit! Mirabelle turned, ready to beg the annoying stranger to disappear and maybe take her glass of Negroni with him. But to her shock, both were already gone. Puzzled, Mirabelle looked around for a beat but there was no sign of the annoying man and the bartender had finally moved away so she couldn’t ask him where he had gone. Not that she had much time for questions, since a few seconds later Lucinda was at her side.

“What are you doing over here, darling?” her friend asked as she gave her air kisses before she dramatically stepped back to give Mirabelle’s dress an exaggerated appraisal. “Hmm,” she hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t recognize the designer. Who is it?”

That was Lucinda-talk for ‘Is it cheap?’ and Mirabelle had the sudden urge to slap the b***h. Unfortunately, she couldn’t. Not unless she wanted to end up on the front page of a magazine for the very wrong reasons.

“Dwayne bought it,” Mirabelle easily lied with a forced, serene smile. “You would have to ask him.”

Suddenly, Lucinda’s face transformed. “Oh, I will. It’s lovely, darling. He should tell me the designer’s name. I would love a few pieces for myself.”

Mirabelle was certain Lucinda had more than enough clothes in her wardrobe, but she didn’t say anything. It was a good thing she knew the woman wouldn’t actually ask Dwayne about the dress.

She had known Lucinda for close to a decade. Ever since Mirabelle’s mother had married her stepfather and their lives had transformed from living in a two-bedroomed house in a shitty part of town to a luxurious six-bedroomed house with eight bathrooms and a garage large enough to park five expensive vehicles and a boat.

Mirabelle had been fifteen when the change happened and she’d met Lucinda at her new school, but she had never truly gotten close to the female. Kara was her one true friend. Much to Mirabelle’s mother’s disappointment.

“Where is the dashing prince tonight?” Lucinda asked, craning her neck to look around the large room in the obvious hope of catching sight of Dwayne.

At that very moment, Mirabelle was also ready to set her sights on Dwayne. She was about ready to drop from the pain in her feet, and she had no desire to spend an extra minute in Lucinda’s presence.

She quickly pushed the thoughts of the strange man out of her head when a voice at the back of her head tried to tell her she wanted to leave before he came back. Mirabelle didn’t want to believe he had affected her in any way. He had just been a stranger who had been a little too bold for his own good, and fatigue had made her an easy target.

With a silent prayer of thanks to the heavens, Mirabelle spotted Dwayne on the other side of the room a few seconds later. She barely smiled in Lucinda’s direction and excused herself. Vaguely, she was aware of Lucinda making a comment about not being able to stay away from her man for long and Mirabelle dutifully chuckled, but she was already making her way toward her fiancé.

As Mirabelle got closer, she couldn’t help taking in her future husband. Dwayne looked deceptively relaxed. She wasn’t fooled. She hoped no one else was. No one in the room should have underestimated him as a businessman. And no one outside of that room certainly lived long enough to underestimate him twice.

A shudder ran down her spine at the thought but she kept walking. A minute later, Mirabelle had finally reached Dwayne where he stood holding court with five fairly elderly men. He barely glanced at her or acknowledged her presence. Mirabelle was okay with that.

For the next five minutes, Mirabelle quietly listened to Dwayne talk about the latest drugs the Fowler pharmaceutical company was working on. Different men offered to come in and partner at different stages of the project. It was all the usual stuff and Mirabelle had almost zoned out when one of the men suddenly turned and spoke to her.

“Ms. Mirabelle Clem, right?” the man asked with a gentle smile, extending his hand for a shake.

Mirabelle blinked, looking dumbfounded for a second before she recovered and took the hand. “Um… Yes, sir.

Wrinkles collected at the corners of the man’s eyes as his smile deepened. Mirabelle wanted to return the smile, but she was very aware of how everyone else had fallen silent and how the tension radiating from Dwayne was almost palpable.

The man who had spoken, however, seemed oblivious and carried on. “I hear you recently graduated top of your class with a bachelor of science. Does that mean you are going to work with Dwayne? Or maybe you are willing to get experience in another company?”

Mirabelle’s heart began to beat faster. “I haven’t given it much thought, to be honest,” she lied.

“Well.” The man paused and withdrew a business card from his jacket pocket, handing it to her. “When you do and if you would like to work somewhere other than the Fowler company, give me a call. My company could definitely use someone as smart as you.”

Mirabelle took the card. How could she not? The obvious flattery aside, the man hadn’t been wrong about her graduating top of her class, and the opportunity to work for any of the big companies represented at the dinner that evening would excite anyone. Including her. So, she took the card and thanked the man.

Then Mirabelle had exactly five seconds to bask in the joy of someone appreciating she had a brain worth something on her shoulders before reality slammed back into her in the form of Dwayne’s sudden firm grip on her elbow.

“If you will excuse us, gentlemen,” Dwayne said evenly, in his English accent heavy like it always got when he wasn’t too happy. “I think we will call it a night.”

On instinct, Mirabelle’s fingers curled around the business card, but she didn’t resist when Dwayne guided her away from the men and went straight for the double glass doors. Guess the night is over, Mirabelle thought, half relieved and half dreading what came next.