She opened the door and Michael walked inside.
He whistled under his breath. “Nice room. Better than mine.”
Mena shrugged as Michael seemed to appreciate the massive stone fireplace nestled in the corner surrounded by impeccable furnishings, exotic Caribbean themed art and eco-friendly architecture reminiscent of Frank Lloyd Wright.
Mena walked over to the bar next to the kitchen nook and scanned the options. “No Bishops, but they have Appleton Estates.”
“That would be perfect. Are you going to join me?” Michael asked, sinking down on one of the plush couches near the fireplace.
Mena reached for the remote control and the wood inside ignited, giving the room a calming, amber glow. “I’ll have wine.”
Slipping her hand into her pocket, she extracted the clear vial with the powder inside and tapped it into the tumbler. Hand trembling slightly, she poured the rum in the glass and watched the powder slowly dissolve.
She reached for another glass and filled it with pinot noir, then raised both glasses as she walked to Michael and sat next to him.
“To good memories of times past,” Michael said, taking a large gulp of rum.
Mena took a sip of pinot, then placed it on the side table. “Tonight wasn’t so bad, but I don’t want to mislead you. A weekend at this amazing resort, just the two of us, isn’t going to be enough to change my mind.”
“How can you be so sure about that? You don’t know what I have planned for tomorrow,” Michael said. Finishing his rum, he placed the empty glass on the table. “I booked a helicopter tour of the Palmchat Islands followed by your favorite—”
“Skydiving?” Mena asked, stunned. Michael really was trying to win her back.
Michael playfully touched her nose. “You got it. I remember how excited you were after we went that first time. You kept bugging me over and over to go back.”
“And you never quite mastered being able to tell me no,” Mena said, with a laugh under her breath.
“Four trips in four months and I thought to myself, I’ve created a monster,” Michael said. His eyes grew heavy as he blinked slowly.
“Come on, you enjoyed it as much as I did,” Mena said, wondering how much time she had before the drug took effect.
“Only because I was with you.” Michael trailed a finger along her arm, caressing her skin gently.
Mena took a deep breath. It was now or never. “This is what worries me, Michael. I don’t believe you’re going to hold up your end of the bargain if the weekend doesn’t turn out like you want it to.”
“I promised you I would—”
“You’ve promised me things before and broken every one,” Mena reminded him, but there was no anger or sadness in her voice. She was resigned to their past, almost indifferent to the memories. The only lingering connection between her and Michael was the legal one that kept them as husband and wife.
“What would make you feel more secure staying the weekend with me? Tell me and I’ll do it.”
“Sign the divorce papers.”
“Come on, Mena,” Michael leaned back.
“Hear me out. I brought them here with me. If you sign them now in front of me and then take them to be held in the hotel safe until we check out, I will spend the weekend with you.”
Michael scoffed. “Signing them without a notary won’t make them valid.”
His words were becoming slurred. She didn’t have much time. Reaching for the stack of papers and pen resting on top of the coffee table, she handed them to Michael. “It’s not about making them valid for filing. It’s about proving to me that I can trust you.”
Michael reached for the pen, but his hand fumbled it. She watched it fall to the floor as Michael stared down at the divorce papers.
“What did you do to me?” Michael’s voice was cold. He shoved the papers to the floor. “Did you put something in my drink?”
“Stop being paranoid,” Mena said, and picked up the divorce papers from the floor.
Michael slapped them from her hand, then gripped her wrist. His hand was unsteady as his body swayed toward her. His eyes grew hard. “I’m a damn neurologist! You think I wouldn’t know when my faculties are impaired. What the hell did you put in my drink?”
