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?

never fathomed her softened tone, which could mirror Damien’s deep timbre.

Weiss knowingly played this game, which is evident in her

carefully chosen words was

a faint smile. “Ms. Weiss, I presumed your late call was in pursuit of

I, too, wish for

of words only muddies the waters

my husband

icy. “It’s late, Ms. Weiss. Rest well. Perhaps in your dreams,

waiting for Yolanda’s retort, Cherise

her and Damien with such crude methods?

No way!

“Finished?”

car door swung open at an indeterminate time. Damien stood outside, exuding the scent of tobacco and the chill of the night air, a smile gracing his lips. “Just like the

flushed crimson. “You… you heard everything?”

“Mhmm.”

entered the car, closing the door. His imposing frame once again enveloped Cherise. “My dear little fool, you’ve grown,

against him. “I’ve told you I’m not

eyes, you’ll always be my dear,