Page 2 of Sweet Revenge
“That sounds like a rough time,” the blonde agreed.
Her southern twang sounded more like Texas hill country than Atlanta society. Rocksprings, Texas, according to her file.
“You should come on in with me. You can join me as a guest.”
“Oh, no. I couldn’t impose.” Standing, she offered the business cards to the receptionist, hitching her bag up on her shoulder.
“It’s not an imposition at all. Really. I’m Melody.”
She shook the hand Melody offered. “Carolyn, ah, Carrie.”
“Well, Carrie, how about we go get us one of those mimosas?”
She offered a grateful smile and followed the blonde inside past a dining room buzzing with activity, several private meeting rooms, and the hallway that led to the tennis courts and out onto the pool deck. Melody greeted staff and other patrons by name as she led them back to a reserved cabana.
“How long have you been in Atlanta?” Melody wondered, signaling a waiter.
“A little over a week. Visiting from Seattle on what was supposed to be our second honeymoon. Something fun to celebrate our fifth anniversary, you know?” She made a show of twisting the gaudy diamond ring she wore around her finger. “But every time I think we’re going to get more than ten minutes alone together, he gets called away for work. And then yesterday he just up and left for a business trip! Now I’m on a honeymoon by myself in a city I’ve never been to before.”
“Aren’t men something else? My fiancé always seems to be gone more than he’s home some days.”
“Does he work in finance too?” she wondered, sipping the mimosa the waiter left.
Melody smiled. “Real estate.”
They chatted about men, places they’d traveled, Atlanta society gossip, retreating into the shade of the cabana as the hour dragged on to lunch, and it reminded her how much she hated small talk. Especially with other women, when she couldn’t flirt to get the info she wanted faster. Usually, anyway.
She made a big show of checking her watch. “Oh, goodness, I should probably get going.” She pushed back from the table. “I really appreciate you helping me get in. It was nice not having to spend my entire vacation alone.”
Melody tipped down her sunglasses and offered a sympathetic smile. “It was my pleasure. I really enjoyed our chat. You know”—Melody stood to leave—“we’re having a party tonight, and you should come. As my guest.”
“Oh, well,” she flushed as she slung her bag over her shoulder. “I don’t think I could impose on you twice in one day.”
Melody waved a hand in the air. “It’s not an imposition at all. Besides, it sounds like you could use a little bit of fun while your husband is away. We would love to have you.”
“It’s been ages since I’ve been to a good party.” She chewed her bottom lip. “As long as you’re sure…”
“I’m definitely sure.” Melody rummaged around in her bag for a card and a pen. “This is the address. It’s black tie.”
“Looks like I might need to go shopping.”
Melody grinned and handed over the card. “Party starts at seven. Maybe you’ll meet someone who can show you a good time in Atlanta after all.”
She accepted the card with a sheepish grin. “I’ll see you tonight.”
Stepping away from the table, she dropped the card into her bag and strode out of the club. The cab she signaled rushed to a stop at the curb, and she climbed in with a triumphant grin.
* * *
At eight, the town car pulled up to the gate of the towering mansion in Atlanta’s wealthiest neighborhood, and the driver gave her name. Once they were waved through, he pulled around the circle drive, and the valet helped her from the car. The driver pulled away with strict instructions to stay close in case she wanted to leave early.
She climbed the stairs in her navy blue sheath dress, stilettos clicking against the stone. It flattered her curves and showed off her cleavage, but it wasn’t flashy like some of the sequined numbers a few women were wearing. The goal was to blend in, to go unnoticed.
The house was teeming with people dressed in their finest, white-jacketed waiters carrying trays of hors d’oeuvres and champagne weaving among the guests. Soft music floated through each room, and she grabbed a glass of champagne off a passing tray and took a sip. Dom. Classy.
Garrett Wells, Melody’s fiancé, did indeed work in real estate. At least enough to cover for his side hustle of stolen artifacts. There was a precious Ming vase she recognized on a side table in the family room because she’d stolen it three years ago. And that’s the way her world worked.
She wandered through the rooms, eyes sharp though she’d already memorized the layout of the house from the plans she found online. The statue was in the library on the first floor. Once she had it, she’d have to make her way past the kitchen, through the family room, and down the long hall to the foyer.
