Marrying the Man in the Dark

Yolanda’s voice dripped with flirtation in the delicate cocoon of her ear. “Damien, you mentioned you’d come over once Cherise drifts into slumber. When might that be?”

“I’m a bit weary. When do you think Cherise will doze off?”

“Why not utilize the sleeping pills you’ve prepared? Didn’t you prepare them?”

Cherise offered no reply.

She simply listened, her silence a canvas for Yolanda’s monologue, punctuated by soft utterances of “Mm,” “Ah,” “Okay.”

“Excellent. Let’s convene at our usual haunt tomorrow!”

Confronted with Yolanda’s buoyant tone, Cherise sighed inwardly, rubbing her temples. “Ms. Weiss.”

Finally, Yolanda exclaimed through the line, “You are…”

“I am Cherise.”

With the phone nestled in her palm, Cherise sighed again, her brow furrowing.

While she didn’t consider her initial “hello” particularly loud, it wasn’t muted.

If her voice reached Yolanda’s ears, why did Yolanda persist in this charade?

fathomed her softened tone,

this game, which is evident in

carefully

faint smile. “Ms. Weiss, I presumed your late call was in pursuit of an accord regarding the issue of the shares with

I, too, wish for an

your deliberate choice of words only muddies the waters between you

that my husband maintains a distance

Weiss. Rest well. Perhaps in your

Yolanda’s retort, Cherise

her and

No way!

“Finished?”

at an indeterminate time. Damien stood outside, exuding the scent of tobacco and the chill of the night

crimson. “You… you

“Mhmm.”

His imposing frame once again enveloped Cherise. “My dear little fool, you’ve grown,

him. “I’ve told you I’m

in my eyes, you’ll always be my dear,