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?

tone, which

game, which is evident in her calculated

intention behind her carefully chosen words was evident.

I presumed your late call was in pursuit of an accord regarding the

too, wish for an amicable

of words only muddies the waters

I concur that my husband maintains a

“It’s late, Ms. Weiss. Rest well. Perhaps in your dreams, you’ll succeed in winning over your

for Yolanda’s retort, Cherise terminated

sow discord between her and Damien with such crude

No way!

“Finished?”

the scent of tobacco and the chill of the night air, a smile gracing his lips. “Just like the conduct of Mrs. Lenoir.”

checks flushed crimson. “You… you heard

“Mhmm.”

once again enveloped Cherise. “My dear little fool, you’ve grown, defending the honor of Mrs.

against him. “I’ve told you I’m

my eyes, you’ll always be my dear, my little