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…”

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

centre-table then takes his place, then glances up. “It suits you very

Harrumphs, his face almost

bottle.

“Red for me, please.”

moves around the table,

the food. “Larry, French

father shifts his gaze

He’s always watching her…

radiating good humour as he serves himself a

beside him, looks down sidelong at his plate, her mouth twisting.

his mouth to protest but Larry, eyes crinkling, drawls, “Mitch is sensitive to anything of this sort. She didn’t

melon. “You’ve

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

props her chin

here about Santa Claus. Over there, they call him Jultomten. Or just Tomten…

at her father as though she

Santa ever visited her

…

Or him?

speaking… “There, you see, Tomten visits the house on Christmas Eve to meet the children. So…” He stabs at another slice of salmon… “This is excellent, James...”

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

course, it would be rude not to offer Tomten hospitality, so the parents will give him a slice of cake or

good so far…” says Mitch, her face

does…” He grins and

he setting out to get drunk? Or just trying to

Or… actually, genuinely, relaxing?

call professional Father Christmases. The parents book

chuckling as he cradles his glass in

Tomten has, say, twenty bookings on Christmas Eve, by the end of the afternoon, he’s visited

burst out laughing, throwing out a finger at him…” … and drunk twenty shots of

the town centre in Sweden to find two dozen Father Christmases, complete with red outfit, beards and boots, completely pissed, and having the biggest punch-up you’ve

all burst out laughing. Mitch gets a fit of the

been to Sweden,

“Sweden no. But Larry took me to Finland

“Really? That sounds marvellous.”

yes.” She speaks slowly. “One of

reaches over the table, topping up her glass. “But you didn’t

there was a tiny little cafe. It only had a couple of chairs and those were outside on the street. There must have been two feet of snow, but they did a hot salmon soup. The temperature was way below zero,

to the tall, fair-haired man next to her, and her fingers curl around his. “It

still, watching her parents, all

speaking. “…So, yes, the salmon soup was great. But the rest of it…” A shiver

“In fact…” he says… “… If I am not much mistaken...” He hesitates, glances at Charlotte, and then very obviously, closes

scarlet, casting eyes to him, then down to her plate. Blinking, she sips at

at the time obviously…” His voice turns dry… “… I was missing certain crucial information then. It was

James and Michael

missing something?” says

what are you both talking

his head. “I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s not for me to speak unless your mother is

that look she has when she’s not happy about something. “Whatever it is, it sounds important.” Her words shift to a hiss. “You can’t just leave it like that.” In her arms, Cara whimpers

Wishing he’d not spoken?

on her shoulder. “Calm down, Babe. Sometimes people have private stuff between them. You know that. And Cara’s picking

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

a day for embarrassing confessions…” Then he turns, aiming

grow round. “Why did you choose

was Christmas. She wanted snow…”

“… I’ve travelled a lot in my life. It’s something I enjoy. Your mother always wanted to 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 and, unwisely as it turned out, to try