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Kelly
That bitch! Kelly thought, her nose pressed to the large picture window of the Literary Ladies’ Book Nook and Café. Her eyes were narrowed, straining into the darkness, searching for Victoria and Henry’s almost imperceptible silhouettes. Kelly clenched her jaw, her gaze locked on them. She wasn’t stupid. Kelly knew what that tramp was up to. She’d seen her lure Henrique into the back of the room and then point at the pathetic dried-up greenery above their heads.
Nausea swept through her. Her hand moved over her stomach as she willed herself not to wretch. Henrique must have been coerced. Why else would he betray her with that frumpy nobody? Everyone knew she was far superior to that twit.
Stupid Victoria Hathaway probably used her home as leverage. Henrique would never be interested in the ordinary bore otherwise. He’d been preoccupied with this silly land deal for months. Frankly, Kelly had had about all she could take. Enough was enough. It was time they marry. No more of this ridiculousness. She’d waited long enough.
Business or not, Henrique had made a grave mistake. Now, once again, Kelly would have to set things right. She’d rid the world of that conniving nuisance just like she’d done with Henrique’s precious Isobel.
Her lips turned into a crooked smile. The man had no idea how lucky he was. Not too many women would be as willing to put up with his shenanigans. Well, it didn’t matter now. She had everything under control.
Her self-satisfied grin faded, a question looming in her mind. Why was Henrique continuing with this charade? She fisted both of her hands through her hair and pulled, her mind cluttered with the events of the last few days. The city council meeting had been a fiasco. Henrique had lost the land deal. She’d been there and heard Helen Carrington’s speech denying the building permit. Apparently, the colonial homes in the area were considered historical relics and therefore protected by the Newport Ladies’ Refurbishment Society.
A deep voice startled her. “Merry Christmas.”
Kelly spun around, thrusting her hand against the storefront as she fought to maintain her balance.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Eyes narrowed, Kelly looked the stranger up and down, assessing him. Faded jeans. Spotless, white sneakers. Motorcycle jacket. All off the rack, but stylish.
“Can’t you see that you’re bothering me? If you want an autograph, just ask. Don’t waste my time with idle chatter.” She sighed and then thrust her hand toward him. “Pen. Paper,” she snapped.
The stranger chuckled. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll pass. I wanted to be neighborly. I live in the studio apartment above this shop.”
Kelly scowled. “I’m not interested in a hookup.”
“Good because I don’t think my girlfriend would be too keen on that either. Especially since I’m on my way to see her now.”
Jealousy shot through Kelly as her eyes landed on the present in his hand.
“It is a fabulous display, isn’t it?” He smiled warmly and nodded in the direction of the storefront’s window. “But I suppose I’m partial.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“I have a soft spot for one of the shop’s owners.”
Kelly released a disgruntled snort. Had every man lost their wits over sweet, innocent Victoria Hathaway? Removing a flask from her pocket, she undid the cap. “I need a drink.”
“That bad, huh?”
Kelly glared at the stranger and then took a swig from the flask.
“Listen, the community center always has an abundant amount of food. They offer shelter, too. No questions asked.”
“I’m not a charity case.”
“If you ever change your mind, feel free to ask for me—Andre. I volunteer there.”
“I’ve had all I can take of this shit.” Kelly turned and proceeded to weave her way down the cobblestone street.
*****
FUCKING SECURITY!
Kelly let out a disgruntled snort as she rattled the locked gate. She’d moved to fucking Newport, Rhode Island to get her man, and no barrier could stop her from getting what she came here for. She moved into a darkened corner and hiked up her dress, heedless of the cold. Clawing her nails into the narrow cracks that separated each of the shore-roughened stones, Kelly hefted herself over the massive stone wall. As she flopped to the ground, her ankle twisted, the heel of her designer pump breaking off. Hell-bent on redemption, Kelly crawled off the ground and proceeded to hobble down the long driveway leading to Diego Santana’s private estate.
She rang the doorbell multiple times, refusing to leave until someone answered. Eyes closed, she inhaled deeply and tried to erase the image of Henrique’s engorged cock ramming into that blonde whore. Why? Why does he hurt me like this?
Finally, the door swung open. “What the hell do you want?” Diego hissed.
Kelly’s mouth curled up. Clad in a maroon satin robe, the billionaire stood before her, a look of pure disgust evident on his face. The robe’s sash strained a knot over his gut, the neckline gaping open to reveal a dusting of gray chest hair covering the ashy skin of his man boobs.
“We need to talk,” she wailed, her over-rouged cheeks blotchy and wet.
“Shut up, you’ll wake the staff,” Diego said, pulling the door closed.
Kelly wedged her foot in the door, wincing as it smacked against her outstretched leg, and then pushed her way into the grand foyer.
“You’d best make this quick. I don’t like garbage littering my living space.”
Kelly stomped her foot on the black and white marble floor, her fists anchored to her hips. “You said that if I came to this hellhole of a town, Henrique would marry me. We made a deal. You were supposed to help me.”
“I don’t make deals with brainless women,” Diego said, his fat fingers locking around her small wrist. He dragged her into a massive sitting room and closed the door, securing the lock behind him before he rounded on her. “Watch your accusations and be very careful how you act because I can destroy you faster than I can squash a bug,” he spat.
Kelly flinched, wiping the back of her hand over the thick spittle that had hit her face. “You said if I came to Newport, Henrique would realize how much he loves me. You said he’d be grateful that I’d cared enough to follow him. Fucking Victoria Hathaway wasn’t part of the plan.”
Casually, Diego removed the stopper from the liquor bottle placed on a round table and poured the brandy into a glass. He held the glass up, swirling the liquid as if in deep contemplation. “Henrique has never been one to listen to reason. His partiality to brandy is one of the few similarities shared between us.”
“What he drinks has nothing to do with this.” Kelly dashed across the room, whacking the glass from his hand.
Diego’s eyes narrowed as the glass shattered, the contents staining the carpet. He gripped her chin roughly, forcing Kelly to look at him. “Why don’t you dispose of Victoria Hathaway—permanently,” he said through clenched teeth before releasing his hold.
She fell to her knees, clutching onto Diego’s meaty calf. “You promised to help me.”
“What a sickening display of cowardice.” Diego shook his leg free from Kelly’s clutches. “You removed your obstacle before.”
“But I still have nightmares,” Kelly cried.
“It’s time you took a good look at yourself. Your makeup is running down your face. Your clothing is soiled. Your tits are drooping, and your ass is flat.” Diego sneered. “Face it, sweetheart, you’re a used-up supermodel. Henrique would never love a piece of trash like you. The only way to regain his affection is to rid yourself of the competition.”
Collapsing into a fetal position, Kelly banged her fists against the oriental carpet, screaming at the top of her lungs, “Henrique loves me!”
Diego hefted a leg above her, stepping over Kelly’s writhing body. “You’re more delusional than I gave you credit for.”
“He’s confused. That woman has brainwashed him against me,” Kelly bawled.
A light tap came from the other side of the door. “Mr. Santana, is everything all right in there?” Patrice questioned.
Shades of red and pink patches broke out across Diego’s face. “Get up. Now,” he commanded, his voice lethal. Huffing, he reached down to pull her body, like a ragdoll, from the floor. “Let’s call a spade a spade. It doesn’t take a brain surgeon to spread her legs, and unfortunately, my good-for-nothing son has grown weary of your crusty old twat. It’s time for you to take action.”
Sniffling, Kelly’s body wrenched with dry heaves as Diego threatened her, “I’m going to open the door. I expect you to pull your shit together and get the fuck out of my presence. If you come sniffing around my residence again, I’ll tear you from limb to limb. That is a promise that I’ll keep.” He threw open the door, unperturbed by Patrice’s shocked gasp. “Go to bed, Patrice. This nuisance was just about to leave.”
Patrice quivered, clutching the neckline of her pink velour robe to her chest. “Are you okay?” she dared to ask, her dark eyes filled with concern, as she noted Kelly’s disheveled appearance.
Kelly whooshed past Patrice, unable to answer, as Diego escorted her to the door. Without a second glance, he propelled Kelly through the open door and slammed it in her face.