Hot Revenge Box Set 2

Still steaming from my shower, my hair turbaned into a towel, I examine the two dresses I brought with me. I’m not sure how formal the Threesome are with dinner, so I packed choices.

I hold them up to Ryan. “Which dress do you think I should wear? Christmas red with sparkly bits, or classic ‘little black dress’?”

“Not the red,” says Ryan. “That satin will show every mark.”

“Why should it get marked? We're only having dinner.”

He sits on the edge of the bed, tugging off his boots and smiling away from me. “I’m going for my shower.”

?

Mmmm…

Standing in front of the mirror, I switch on the hair-drier, brushing through my long locks, easing them to lie as I want, slightly covering my left cheek.

Ryan comes up close behind me. Taking me by the shoulders, he presses lips to the cheek, then in the mirror, his eyes meet mine. “You shouldn’t be so self-conscious about it. It barely shows. And in any case, you are still a beautiful woman; the most beautiful I know.”

“I… I still prefer to cover it if I can,” I stutter. I angle my face to the mirror, tracing a fingertip down the jagged red scar down the side of my face.

After my time in hospital, my months invalided, all my other injuries healed, but this…

An extra layer of foundation…

And some blusher…

Then no-one will see it…

*****

“Dinner is served!” James’ voice reverberates from the kitchen.

We head for the dining room. Out in the hall, Charlotte and Mitch descend the stairs, Mitch carrying Cara.

Mitch looks amazing. In a dress of jade, her hair is set in an elaborately up-style and at her neck she wears the silver and emerald necklace. The matching combs glint green against her copper-red hair.

Charlotte looks equally good. Although she still has much of her ‘pregnant shape’, the gown she wears emphasises her height and her much-expanded bosom but drapes smoothly over her expanded stomach.

Michael and Larry enter together, wearing their sweaters in a kind of protective fraternity, Rudolph side by side with the penguin, each refusing to meet each other’s eyes. Charlotte and Mitch exchange giggles as their men sit beside them.

Richard and Beth join us, she leaning on his arm, waddling a bit as he guides her to sit next to Charlotte. But Beth too, for all her advanced pregnancy, looks spectacular, in a dress chosen to make the best of her inflated stomach and bosom.

Michael aims a finger at Richard. “If you think you’re getting away with the suit and shirt, you’re mistaken. If the rest of us have to dress like idiots, so do you.”

Mitch turns to him, her voice all innocence. “Idiots, Michael?”

He turns to her, bowing elaborately. “My apologies, Mitch. If the rest of us have to meet your high sartorial standards, so does Richard.” He turns back to Beth’s elegantly dressed husband. “Go and change.”

James enters carrying a platter of smoked salmon, bedded on a green salad and dressed with sliced lemons.

Richard demurs, smirking…. “The meal’s arrived. If I take the time to change, the food will be cold.”

Michael takes on a quite untypical heartless tone. “Smoked salmon doesn’t go cold. Neither does melon. We’ll wait.”

James, Rudolph staring out from his chest, sets down the platter. “I’ll be back in in a sec with the soup. It’s just under the grill now.”

Hope lights up Richard’s face but Michael interrupts, “Just hold the soup for five minutes will you, James. Richard wants to change into something more appropriate. We don’t want his starter to go cold.”

James measures the billionaire’s perfectly cut, hand-stitched suit with his eye and his face stone-walls. “Yes, quite right. We’ll wait for you, Richard.”

Next to me Ryan, in his silk shirt and tie, lets out a slow release of air.

“Just realising what a narrow escape you had?” I murmur.

He scratches his nose and sniffs. “Mmmph…”

satisfied chuckle and vanishes from the dining room. Five minutes later, at the sound of down-coming steps, he returns with a tureen, bubbling a crust

it down, centre-table then takes his place,

his face almost as

a bottle. “Red

“Red for me, please.”

around the table, pouring wine

the food. “Larry, French

father shifts his gaze from

He’s always watching her…

he serves himself a generous helping, squeezing lemon juice over the

beside him, looks down sidelong at his plate, her mouth twisting. “I don’t know how you

to protest but Larry, eyes crinkling, drawls, “Mitch is sensitive to anything of this

at his melon. “You’ve

it…” replies Larry… “… at one time or another. In fact…” His eye crosses the table to Richard’s sweater, then

at her teeth, then props her chin

and swallows, then sits back in his chair, punctuating his words with his fork. “Well, you see, in Sweden, they have much the same idea as here about Santa Claus. Over there, they call him Jultomten. Or just Tomten… Anyway,

father as though she

ever visited her

…

Or him?

So…” He stabs at another slice of salmon… “This is excellent, James...” He swallows the salmon, washing it down with a gulp of

any good children here? Of course, all the kids say, ‘Yes’. So, then he’ll sit them on his knee…” Larry shifts to a fake and slightly comic Swedish accent… “So, Inga… You have been a good little girl? Or… Gunnar, so you have been a good little

of wine. “And of course, it would be rude not to offer Tomten hospitality, so the parents will

so far…” says

it does…” He grins and takes another swig

get drunk? Or just

Or… actually, genuinely, relaxing?

might call professional Father Christmases. The

glass in paired hands. “I’m

Christmas Eve, by the end of the afternoon, he’s visited twenty houses, handed out twenty sets of gifts, eaten twenty slices

a finger at him…” …

a palm to the ceiling. “Correct! So, on Christmas Eve night, it’s not that uncommon to visit the town centre in Sweden to find two dozen Father Christmases, complete with red outfit, beards and boots, completely pissed, and having the

burst out laughing. Mitch gets a fit of

you ever been to

wipes tears from her eyes. “Sweden no. But Larry took me to Finland

“Really? That sounds marvellous.”

long at Larry. “It was marvellous, yes.” She speaks slowly. “One of the best weeks I’ve ever had. That was at Christmas

the table, topping up her glass. “But you

only had a couple of chairs and those were outside on the street. There must have been two feet of snow,

to her, and her

is very still, watching her parents,

salmon soup was great. But the rest of it…” A shiver runs

to her, Larry is suppressing a smile. “In fact…” he says… “… If I am not much mistaken...” He

him, then down to her plate. Blinking, she sips

between Charlotte and Mitch. “I worked it out. Not at the time obviously…” His voice turns dry… “… I was missing certain crucial

and Michael

missing something?” says

are you

his head. “I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s not for me to

words shift to a hiss. “You can’t

Wishing he’d not spoken?

on her shoulder. “Calm down, Babe. Sometimes people have private stuff between them. You know

still blushing. “I don’t mind. It’s just a bit… er… Larry… You tell

looks to Michael. “Since it’s a day for embarrassing confessions…” Then he turns, aiming his words at Charlotte. “Twenty-six years ago, I

round. “Why did you choose

to heaven. “It was Christmas. She wanted snow…” Everyone

travel too but hadn’t had the opportunity. So, I took her to Helsinki for Christmas. Everything was new to her and at first, meals-wise, she stayed with what was familiar; porridge and fruit for breakfast. That kind of thing. But after a few days of playing safe, she decided to get adventurous