world—see where he lived, who his family was and maybe even learn his secrets. She couldn't pass this up.
"Then I'm going with you." Jenny went to retrieve her purse.
"No!" Christina shouted the word. "This is my mess and I'm cleaning it up." Besides, she wouldn't be able to put her revenge plan into action if her friend was there. Jenny believed that Christina had given up that idiotic scheme and that's how Christina wanted it to stay.
"But…"
Christina was determined. "No, Jenny." She looked at the concern stamped on her friend's face. "Don't worry, I'll be fine."
Jenny shook her head and sighed. "The last time you said that it cost you $50,000. What's it going to cost you tonight?"
Chapter 13
Her stomach was doing somersaults—Olympic, gold medal somersaults.
Here she was, in a short, black cocktail dress and pearls, in the back of a stretch limo, being chauffeured by a uniformed gentleman named Summers, on her way—to her execution. She felt like Marie Antoinette, in the lap of luxury and about to have her head chopped off.
Oh why, had she agreed to go? She should have listened to Jenny and let Stanley Moore handle this. She should have said no. She should have—
It was too late for 'should haves' especially since they were now pulling into the mansion's long, circular drive. Christina's eyes scanned the car's plush interior. Wonder if it came with a barf bag because she could use one about now.
The limo came to a full stop in front of the house's front doors. In about five seconds, she would again be face to face with him—Billy Havenwood. And she would actually be sitting down and sharing food with him. Could she do it? Could she act civil and refrain from what she really wanted to do… which was to scratch his eyes out right after having given him a right hook to the jaw? More importantly, if she had to eat with him, could she keep her food down?
Oh no, there it was again. Her stomach performed another gymnastic stunt—a triple backflip followed by a mid-air lunge followed by a nosedive into the black pit of hell. God, she wasn't feeling well at all.
Summers swung open her car door and gallantly offered Christina his hand. Taking it, Christina smiled her thanks and stepped out. The coolness of the fresh night air took her by surprise and she inhaled deeply. Oh, that felt good.
She turned her eyes to the entrance of the mansion. He was waiting for her behind those massive, double doors. What would he say? How would he act? Would he remember her? And what about this invitation to his house? Why was she here at all? Something about this whole thing didn’t feel right.
As Christina ascended the steps to the front doors, they suddenly and magically opened. It's him, it's him, she thought as dread coursed through her system.
But it wasn't him. It was William, elegantly dressed in a tuxedo. "Christina, welcome," he proudly announced.
"Thank you for inviting me, William," Christina smiled tentatively as she entered the lavish home. The foyer floor was an elaborate pattern of black and white marble, and ornate vases and sculptures glittered in every direction. To Christina, it was all a blur.
"You look beautiful tonight," William gushed before looking down at her left hand and frowning. "But where's your ring?"
"Pardon?"
"Your ring? You're not wearing one?"
"Well, I… " Christina was baffled. What did it matter what jewelry she'd worn? Was there some cocktail dress bling bling etiquette she didn't know about? "I'm sorry, I don't know what you mean."
"Doesn't matter; we'll ask my son when he gets here."
"Bill's not here?"
"No; running late, as usual… and undependable, as usual but that's no surprise to you, is it?"
"No," a stunned Christina squeaked. Did he know that she knew Bill from way back? Knew all about his lazy, irresponsible ways? Was this more than a meeting to talk about the accident?
William took her arm and led her into a huge living room filled with French provincial
"Then I'm going with you." Jenny went to retrieve her purse.
"No!" Christina shouted the word. "This is my mess and I'm cleaning it up." Besides, she wouldn't be able to put her revenge plan into action if her friend was there. Jenny believed that Christina had given up that idiotic scheme and that's how Christina wanted it to stay.
"But…"
Christina was determined. "No, Jenny." She looked at the concern stamped on her friend's face. "Don't worry, I'll be fine."
Jenny shook her head and sighed. "The last time you said that it cost you $50,000. What's it going to cost you tonight?"
Chapter 13
Her stomach was doing somersaults—Olympic, gold medal somersaults.
Here she was, in a short, black cocktail dress and pearls, in the back of a stretch limo, being chauffeured by a uniformed gentleman named Summers, on her way—to her execution. She felt like Marie Antoinette, in the lap of luxury and about to have her head chopped off.
Oh why, had she agreed to go? She should have listened to Jenny and let Stanley Moore handle this. She should have said no. She should have—
It was too late for 'should haves' especially since they were now pulling into the mansion's long, circular drive. Christina's eyes scanned the car's plush interior. Wonder if it came with a barf bag because she could use one about now.
The limo came to a full stop in front of the house's front doors. In about five seconds, she would again be face to face with him—Billy Havenwood. And she would actually be sitting down and sharing food with him. Could she do it? Could she act civil and refrain from what she really wanted to do… which was to scratch his eyes out right after having given him a right hook to the jaw? More importantly, if she had to eat with him, could she keep her food down?
Oh no, there it was again. Her stomach performed another gymnastic stunt—a triple backflip followed by a mid-air lunge followed by a nosedive into the black pit of hell. God, she wasn't feeling well at all.
Summers swung open her car door and gallantly offered Christina his hand. Taking it, Christina smiled her thanks and stepped out. The coolness of the fresh night air took her by surprise and she inhaled deeply. Oh, that felt good.
She turned her eyes to the entrance of the mansion. He was waiting for her behind those massive, double doors. What would he say? How would he act? Would he remember her? And what about this invitation to his house? Why was she here at all? Something about this whole thing didn’t feel right.
As Christina ascended the steps to the front doors, they suddenly and magically opened. It's him, it's him, she thought as dread coursed through her system.
But it wasn't him. It was William, elegantly dressed in a tuxedo. "Christina, welcome," he proudly announced.
"Thank you for inviting me, William," Christina smiled tentatively as she entered the lavish home. The foyer floor was an elaborate pattern of black and white marble, and ornate vases and sculptures glittered in every direction. To Christina, it was all a blur.
"You look beautiful tonight," William gushed before looking down at her left hand and frowning. "But where's your ring?"
"Pardon?"
"Your ring? You're not wearing one?"
"Well, I… " Christina was baffled. What did it matter what jewelry she'd worn? Was there some cocktail dress bling bling etiquette she didn't know about? "I'm sorry, I don't know what you mean."
"Doesn't matter; we'll ask my son when he gets here."
"Bill's not here?"
"No; running late, as usual… and undependable, as usual but that's no surprise to you, is it?"
"No," a stunned Christina squeaked. Did he know that she knew Bill from way back? Knew all about his lazy, irresponsible ways? Was this more than a meeting to talk about the accident?
William took her arm and led her into a huge living room filled with French provincial
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