Bought for Revenge

CAN'T BELEIVE MY EYES (Present Day)

“For vengeance is emptiness and he that seeketh it wasteth himself.” – Jeffery Farnol

PRESENT DAY

Ranveer’s date, Christine, a vivacious Soca singer from Georgetown in her early twenties, apparently was the type to complain of boredom. That’s all she’d been doing since they arrived at the charity gala. She wasn’t thrilled to be at the event, even if it was for a good cause. When Ranveer had called and asked her out on Christmas day, she was thrilled. That is, until they had arrived at the hotel and she realized she was to be his plus one at a charity event. Not many women got a second date with the legendary billionaire. So Christine tried to latch on to the ecstatic feeling she’d had when he'd called. She was still hoping he’d wine and dine with her before they engaged in a few adult activities after the gala. She planned on rocking his world and snagging herself a third date. Unfortunately, the little probes she made to determine his plans for the remainder of the evening were less than fruitful. She’d tried beguiling him with her wit, but he was bored and moody. She didn’t know how to cope with him in that state, and as such, she was less than happy.

Anyone watching would assume she was having the time of her life by the way she smiled and animatedly waved her hands as she spoke. What they didn’t know was that every few minutes she would whisper under her breath to Ranveer, can we leave yet?

About one hour ago she’d given up on trying to persuade him by shoving her bountiful breasts in his face every chance she got.

Ranveer paid her no mind. She needed him more than he needed her.

She was a mediocre singer at best. She’d had more success as a mistress to high-powered men than as a songstress. In any case, he knew that, despite being upset, she’d never make a scene. There were two things in life she needed to get by, her looks and her image. Being Ranveer’s plus one boosted both. She knew her place. That’s why he liked her. She was arm candy that didn’t talk back and seemingly had no qualms using her body to further her agenda.

And like just about every woman he had dated for the past fifteen years, she was the exact opposite of Monique Atwater.

Still, Ranveer was ready to leave. He had accepted the invitation as a courtesy to the hospital’s Director, Andrew Newman, who had helped him make the right contacts when he had decided to expand his gas station business in the United States. That has proven to be a very lucrative list of contacts, and eventually Ranveer opened gas stations in over thirty-six states so far. The least Ranveer could do was attend the man’s charity gala and make a generous donation.

Newman had left his family dynasty in the United States and came to Guyana on a humanitarian mission. He eventually opened a hospital that was free and offered state of the art services to the country’s populace. Four hospitals later, littered across the country, he was now embarking on an ambitious project. When he heard about it, he was intrigued. So Ranveer had decided to lend his support and was watching closely to see how it developed.

Looking at Newman now as he danced with his date, a stab of jealousy hit Ranveer straight in the heart. The hospital director appeared to have forgotten he was hosting the gala to raise awareness of and funds for his project. Instead, he was enwrapped, with his pretty Afro-Guyanese date.

It reminded Ranveer of the silly hopes and dreams he’d harbored for Monique and himself before she left him, taking his heart with her. Though he’d tried to forget her with a string of women and business successes throughout the years, the old bitterness returned on this starry Christmas night, threatening to consume Ranveer as he watched the happy couple slow dancing to a popular RnB song, as if they were the only people in the hotel’s ballroom.

“I’m ready to leave,” he said to Christine.

She nodded and stood up, smoothing out invisible wrinkles in her tight, black designer evening gown before asking, “Do you mind if I powder my nose before we leave?”

For a moment, Ranveer marveled at her audacity. He wanted to snap at her. For the better part of the evening, she’d been bitching about leaving. Now that he was ready to go, she wanted to use the toilet. He was growing weary of the games women played.

“It’s on our way out,” he said.

He’d already extended his best wishes and congratulations to Newman, so he guided Christine toward one of the third floor’s guest powder rooms. After she disappeared inside, he looked around for a place to sit while he waited for her. He knew from experience that a bathroom break for most of the women he dated included resetting make-up so they’d look just as flawless on the way out as they did on the way in. This meant Christine would be there for a while. He wasn’t sure why she would bother. He had no intentions of extending their evening together. He was not in the mood. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the holidays, the fact that he was getting older or because a lot of things had been reminding him of Monique lately, but he was growing tired of the one-night stands and casual hook-ups. Perhaps it was time he finally listened to his mother and settled down.

All the benches in the hallway were low and appeared uncomfortable. A man of Ranveer’s height did not relish the thought of sitting there. Looking for alternative options, he spotted a darkened alcove at the other end of the hall, and though it didn’t look like it was meant to be used by the gala’s guests, he could make out a figure in its dark shadows, her face illuminated by the glow of her phone. She was typing something into it with a fond smile on her face.

For a moment, it looked like…

No, it couldn’t be. Monique’s hair had been thick and natural, but this woman had what appeared to be interlocked hair that fell past her butt. And why would Monique Atwater, of all people, be in Georgetown?

But she was wrapped in a red evening gown in keeping with the festive season. He may not have seen her in over a decade, but he would never forget that figure. He’d spent countless hours kissing and licking every inch of it. The memory of her had been imprinted on his mind. It could be no one but her.

He took a step toward her, pulled forward by an invisible string that compelled him to make sure it wasn’t her, even though he technically never wanted to see her again.

All of a sudden, she seemed to sense his presence, because she looked to the left, then to the right, then straight at him. And that’s when he knew for sure. Yes, this was Monique. Monique Atwater, the only woman he had ever loved. The woman who had ripped his heart out fifteen years ago by deserting him, and who’d made him into the man he was today.

What the hell was she doing here?