Rosalind went straight to grab some fruit from the fridge, arranged it on a platter, and carried it upstairs.
She knocked on the master bedroom door.
“Who is it?”
Rosalind didn’t answer. Her knocking turned to pounding.
“Liza? Is that you?” Christopher called out.“Whatever it is, it can wait until morning.”
Through the wood, Latoya’s hushed voice whispered, “Who’s there?”
“The housekeeper.”
“Why would the housekeeper knock this late?”
Christopher replied, “Probably reminding me to close the windows before the rain.”
Footsteps approached.
The door opened with a squeak.
Christopher stood there in light grey pajamas, wearing his black–framed reading glasses. Irritation flickered across his face.“Liza, don’t disturb me at night unless it’s… Rosa? You’re back? Why?”
Rosalind took in his panic with a dark sense of satisfaction. “Missed you. Came back to be with you. Weren’t we trying for a baby? Have some fruit, then we can start?”
Christopher’s face paled.
Rosalind gave a cold laugh. “What? Not interested? Or did I interrupt your plans, Mr. Foret? Bad timing?”
Latoya appeared then, nestling against Christopher’s shoulder like a bird.“C–bear, what’s taking so long?”
C–bear?
Rosalind stared at Christopher.
The nickname was sickeningly intimate.
Even his parents didn’t call him that.
Rosalind waved cheerfully. “Hello, salesgirl! Like some fruit?”
Latoya’s face went ghostly pale.“You’re the rich lady?”
“Yep. And your C–bear is my never–around husband. Surprise!”
Latoya stammered, panicked.“I didn’t know… I didn’t know you were married…”
Christopher’s expression turned icy. He grabbed Rosalind’s wrist. “You. Come with me.”
He dragged her forcefully to a guest room and slammed the door.
Rosalind sneered, “What? Ashamed of us? Or protecting your mistress? Don’t want her feelings hurt?”
19:53
16
< Chapter 17.
He radiated cold fury, a stark contrast to his usual gentle demeanor.
“You planned this?”
“Yes,” Rosalind admitted readily. “Problem?”
The fruit lay scattered across the floor.
Christopher stared at the scattered fruit, his voice dangerously low.”You knew. You knew all along.”
“So what if I did?” Rosalind shot back. “Pretending to try for a baby with me, while sneaking your mistress into our home? Wearing my pajamas and slippers? Lying in my bed? Did that feel thrilling, Christopher?”
His gaze sharpened. “You’ve been going to her store? Buying jewelry?”
“Mm. Spending your money. Swiping your card. Giving your fling quite the commission.”
“So tonight, lying about Eloise, showing up unannounced… It was all a trap?”
Rosalind lifted her chin, meeting his glare with ice in her eyes.
“Christopher. Remember what you promised at our wedding?”
That day, he’d cried.
Red–eyed, kneeling before her, he’d vowed, “Rosa, if I ever betray your trust, let me die a painful death.”
And now, just a few years later, he’d brought his mistress onto their bed.
Christopher exploded. “Rosalind! You’ve been playing me? You think this is funny?”
< Chapter 19.
