Chapter 4: An Opportunity

Miranda’s P.O.V

About six weeks had passed since that untasteful night at the charity ball. My jaw had healed nicely and I was very happy about it; that, and the fact that Roxanne had left the house after being a literal pain in my ass for the last few weeks. She treated me like an invalid and did everything for me, from cooking the meals, house chores and even spreading the bed. I had told her on several occasions that I could do that by myself but she had insisted.

She was being so uncharacteristically nice, that it was sickening to watch. I bet she only did it because she wanted to dissuade me from my thoughts of leaving her son, but it had all been in vain. I still wanted to leave him, but I just had no idea how I would do it.

Tonight, Michael and I had been invited to a dinner party hosted by none other than Jason O’Connor in celebration of his 5th wedding anniversary with his slut of a wife, Camille. It was only natural that I didn’t want to go for obvious reasons but Michael would rather hell freeze over than miss a silver opportunity to kiss his boss’s ass, and probably grab his boss’s wife’s ass too.

I was currently in our bedroom getting ready, as it was already quarter to six. The party would start at around six thirty and Michael wasn’t even at home yet. The O’Connor’s lived on the other side of the city, in some rich posh neighbourhood. If we didn’t leave any time from now, we could be very late and I hated being tardy to anything, especially social events.

I put in my emerald earrings that I’d bought a few months back from Tiffany & Co before ruffling my hair a bit. I’d done my make up to suite my honey blonde hair, which was down in voluminous curves. Matte red lipstick coated my lips, making my cyan eyes pop. I’d applied a bit of eye liner to my both my eyebrows and eyelids, with a dab of mascara. My dress was fitted in a bodycon, sleeveless red dress that had high slits and a sweetheart neckline. My feet were adorned by these black Gianvito Rossi heels I had in the back of my wardrobe, collecting dust.

Overall, I think I looked great.

The door flew open as I tired looking Michael sauntered in. I stood up from my vanity dresser and turned to look at him. “You’re late,” I said in an accusatory tone and he sighed loudly.

“Don’t you think I know that? I got caught up in the office and-,” he halted in his tracks when his eyes landed on me and they widened slightly. “Holy sh-t! You look so hot,” he exclaimed suddenly and then came over to where I was. He wrapped his hand around my waist and started assaulting my neck with his feathery kisses. It should have been a turn on, being appreciated and him trying to seduce me, but all it did was make my stomach churn with aversion.

I wriggled uncomfortably in his arms. “Stop, we’re already running late,” I trailed off in a breathless voice. I was mere seconds away from puking on him.

“But I want to get inside of you so badly,” he voiced huskily his hands heading south and skimming the flesh of my thigh. “And who cares if we’re late. I need your naked body under me, baby,” he added in a sultry tone and then bit my ear lobe.

“Please, can we do this when we come back?” I pleaded in a desperate voice, that he somehow misinterpreted to be one full of desire. Groaning audibly, he let me go but not before placing a wet kiss on my collarbone.

He glided his long index finger down the side of my face and smirked at me. “I’ll hold you to that,” he whispered before he walked away to get ready. I grabbed my Hermes clutch from the bed and exited the room, my legs wobbly with angst. I trotted down the stairs and went into the kitchen where I took out a cold bottle of water from the fridge. Taking one huge gulp, I felt my nerves untangling one by one. That encounter had left me in a hot mess, and not because of lust but because the feeling of his hands on me made my skin crawl.

It's funny how once upon a time I used to enjoy having his hands tracing my skin, and sharing all those intimate moments in our bedroom late into the night. I shuddered at the thought of having to pleasure him later tonight after we came back from the party. That is something I just wasn’t looking forward to. I was seated by the kitchen island as I read some tabloids on my phone when Michael’s voice boomed from the stairs.

“Babe, I’m ready now. Let’s go,” he hollered and I sighed, standing from the high chair. Adjusting my dress, I took my purse and sulkily made my way over to him. He looked very dashing in a white suit with a black shirt, minus the tie. The first few buttons were popped open giving a view of his hard and masculine chest. So attractive and yet, so dangerous.

Placing his hand on the small of my back, he kissed my cheek gingerly. “Aren’t you going to say anything about how I look?” he teased, his blue eyes swirling with playfulness. There are times when I wonder if this man is bipolar or better yet, schizophrenic.

I smiled tightly. As if your massive ego needs any more inflating. “You look handsome, but yet again that’s just every day,” I lied effortlessly, to which he responded with a chuckle.

We went out through the front door, and I locked it before throwing the key in my clutch. Michael opened the passenger door of his Mercedes Maybach and I thanked him briefly before sliding in. I don’t know why, but I had this eerie feeling that tonight there was something majorly bad that was going to happen and it would change the course of my life. In fact, I’d been having this feeling since I found out about this party three days ago. Something told me to carry all my credit cards and to remember the number of that mysterious man I’d met almost two months ago.

Oh Lord, please let me be wrong!

The engine purred to life and soon we were backing up out of the driveway and onto the street of our neighbourhood. The ride to the venue was very quiet, save for the occasional question that my husband asked and I answered with one-word responses. When we arrived at the O’Connor’s mansion, the guards opened the steel gates for us once Michael flashed them the invitation. Their house was typical of a rich couple; well-manicured lawn, a winding driveway that had a fountain right at the end of it and a colossal cream mansion sat proudly on the large piece of land. Such extravagance I’d always found to be completely unnecessary.

The front was swarmed with top tier cars and by the looks of it, there party was in full swing. I got out of the car and stared at the huge structure in front of me. It was disgustingly huge, but one couldn’t help but admire the architectural genius behind it. One of the workers directed us towards the entrance hall, where it was packed to the T. There had to be at least fifty people here, all of whom I could mostly recognise since we’d met at one or two other occasions.

Soon, Michael began to whisk me about, sharing greetings and brief conversations with the incredibly snobby and irritating attendants. I just stood by his side, a champagne flute in my free hand and a stunningly counterfeit smile stretched on my lips as I heard them converse about both business and pleasure. Maybe if I had a job of my own and workmates, I knew I’d be more at ease at these types of things, or maybe not. I’m not really a social butterfly and I doubt I ever will.

It wasn’t long before the hosts of the party caught wind of our arrival and came over to greet us. Jason greeted us first with a broad and friendly smile. “Michael, so you finally show up. I was wondering where my favourite employee was,” he cajoled, his eyes crinkling due to how happy he was. They both shared a powerful handshake; Michael’s bootlicking skills being activated.

Jason was a man in his mid to late forties but he certainly didn’t look like it with his smooth milky skin, tall frame and strong build. He had a five o’clock shadow that sat proudly on his angled jaw and a proud nose that demanded to be seen. His high cheekbones accentuated his god-like features, and a pair of grey eyes that could make anybody quake under their penetrative gaze. The only indication of his age was his salt and pepper hair, which somehow made him even more attractive.

His hawk like gaze landed on me. “Ah, gorgeous Miranda. So lovely to see you again. I heard about your injury, how are you doing now?” he asked sincerely, and took my hand in his to place a kiss on the back.

I blushed because of two reasons; firstly, he had no idea that I’d gotten injured after discovering his wife and my husband doing the deed and secondly, he just called me gorgeous. “I’m okay now, thanks for asking,” I mumbled coyly.

“Michael,” Camille greeted and gave him an air kiss. I didn’t miss the way Michael’s filthy hand briefly grazed her buttocks as he went in for an embrace. Effing bastard. When they finally let go of each other, Camille turned to me with a nauseating grin.

She stretched her arms out and engulfed me in a tight hug. “You look so beautiful, dear. And your face has healed nicely,” she murmured demurely. I resisted the urge to shove her off but settled with an awkward pat on her back. After that, I smiled at her as she went to stand by her husband’s side, but kept her pervy eyes on mine. “Thanks, you look great too,” I coughed and slid my arm around Michael’s.

“Come, dinner is about to be served. I booked you two at my table,” Jason said and then led the way to the extensive backyard where round tables were expertly littering the grass.

We walked about the tables, and I felt my irritation being triggered when I caught Michael’s eyes solely fixated on Camille’s derriere. I nudged him with my elbow, and only then did he look away and frown at me like I was delusional. I immediately yanked my arm from his grasp and continued ahead without him. My blood was practically boiling at how he was blatant about his attraction to another woman.

When we arrived at the table, Jason dragged out a chair for me to sit. I smiled warmly at him, before accepting it. “Did I mention that you look absolutely stunning, Miranda?” he complimented, and I found myself blushing again. From my peripheral vision, I caught two pairs of eyes glaring at me. I tucked some of my hair behind my ear, with a subtle smirk.

Later on, into the evening, after the food and drinks had been served, Camille excused herself to retouch her make-up. Not long after that, Michael also stood saying he needed to make a phone call pertaining to some business matter, which was utter bullshit. I knew that the both of them leaving the table at similar intervals was just a cover up so that they could get up to no good. It made a heaviness settle in my chest. Jason was to engrossed with the other guests, that I managed to slip away and go into the house, which was devoid of guests by now. Everybody was out in the back, which served as a perfect opportunity for the two love birds to get away.

Stealthily, I searched the ground floor but couldn’t find them. I bumped into a few workers, and pretended not to know where the bathroom was. They were none the wiser and directed me upstairs where I resumed my quest. As I approached the other end of west wing, I heard two distinct voices trying to be as quiet as possible, but failing hopelessly.

“Did you see the way Jason was looking at her! He was undressing her with his eyes! Why did you even bring that useless b-tch anyways? I thought you said you only had eyes for me!” no doubt that was Camille’s voice, which was filled with unbridled bitterness and jealousy.

“You forget that when the invitations were passed out, Jason told me to bring her. But you have to believe me when I say I feel nothing for her. You’re the only woman that I want,” Michael said in a gentle voice. I got closer to the door and could see both of them standing in a room that seemed to be a bedroom.

Not wasting a single second, I took out my phone and began to record them. “Then prove it to me. Divorce that dumbass and run away with me. I never loved Jason, I’m only with him because of the money but none of that matters anymore. Isn’t it you said that your wife is practically loaded? Well, take the money and let’s elope!” she murmured sensually as she brought her hands up to his neck and pulled him in for a passionate kiss.

For some odd reason, those words pierced my heart like a knife. I already knew most of this information, but now that I was hearing it with my own ears, it made it all the more real. Tears blurred my vision as I continued to record the footage of them being treacherous scum. I needed to show this to Jason so that he’d know what kind of woman he’d married, and how he was mistaken to trust a snake like Michael. I wanted them both to crash and burn; I wouldn’t stop at anything until I achieved this goal.

“Ma’am, access to this side of the house has been strictly prohibited,” one of the workers said loudly, scaring the shit out of me. I immediately stopped recording and stuffed my phone in my clutch, just as Michael and Camille detangled from each other and looked at me in shock.

The worker made a move to grab my arm in an attempt to drag me away but I forcefully shrugged him off before he could follow through. I briskly pivoted on my heels and began to saunter away angrily.

It was time to put an end to this.