Page 3 of The Stranger
Me: If you want my opinion on the matter, it sounds like you are better off without him. Be grateful you dodged that bullet before you two walked down the aisle.
Delilah: We were supposed to get married yesterday, but instead he’s now sitting on a tropical island, basking in the sunshine, drinking cocktails on the beach and enjoying our honeymoon with my sister. Would it be nasty of me to say I hope a shark eats him?
Her sister? Fucking hell. Now this is all making sense.
Me: I’m sorry, Delilah. That was an awful thing for them to do to you. And no to the shark, he deserves it. I hope his death is a painful and prolonged one.
My hardened heart goes out to her. I can only imagine how she’s feeling. My mother was broken when my father traded her in for a woman less than half his age, but I got retribution for her after the divorce by taking over his company. But this is Delilah’s sister … her flesh and blood. That is a betrayal on a whole other level.
Delilah: *Sigh. Thank you for your kind words. You sound sweet. No wonder my sister is secretly in love with you. Again, I apologise profusely. I’ll take my status down immediately.
Me: Do I know your sister?
Delilah: She did a two-month internship with your company. She’s been swooning over you ever since. She even has a picture of you cut out from a magazine in a frame beside her bed. Pathetic right? She’s foolishly hoping to get a full-time position with Prescott Enterprises after she graduates from college. Knowing her, the way I do, I’m sure she plans on seducing you.
Me: Isn’t shedating your ex?
Delilah: That wouldn’t stand in her way. I know little about you, but the fact that you have a job would be a major step up from Kayne. He’s a broke college student who’s never worked a day in his life.
He sounds like a real catch.
Me: Regardless, she’d be wasting her time; I don’t fraternise with my staff. Ever.
I’m nothing like my old man.
Delilah: She’d still give it her best shot. Nothing stands in the way of something Abigail St. James wants … even her sister’s fiancé. She’s ruthless.
Me: I’ll make a note of her name and give it to HR so that never happens.
Delilah: Deep inside the depths of my soul, a small part of me is glad to hear that. Does that make me a terrible sister?
Me: I think what your sister has done to you trumps that, so don’t feel bad.
Delilah: I only chose you to spite her … petty, I know. It was wrong of me to get you involved and use you as a pawn in my game, Mr Prescott.
Me: The only reason?
Delilah: No offence, but you’re not my type.
Although that comment should bruise my ego, I’m not offended at all. I like that she said it. Her honesty isrefreshing.
Me: You know what, Delilah, leave the status up.
My reply is impulsive, but this woman deserves some kind of retribution for what those two did to her.
Delilah: Really?
Me: Yes, really. What can it hurt?
Call it a sleep-hazed reaction, or just plain stupidity, but I had a sinking feeling that I was going to live to regret those words.
Chapter 2
Delilah
Iglance down at my sister’s Facebook post one more time, flicking through the images because I obviously like to torture myself.
The sight of them together makes my stomach lurch, and the tears return. As if what they have done isn’t bad enough, her need to flaunt it all over her page—knowing full well I’d see it—is just another blow to my already-fragile heart.
