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I was confused because there were no other Black people in the room. We stopped in front of a tall blonde sitting with her hands folded.
I tapped Lucio. “I’m sorry there has been some kind of mistake. I was looking for Mr. Brent Davis.”
“There has been no mistake. I am Mrs. Brent Davis.” The blonde said softly.
My heart began to thump wildly in my chest. Shit. What the hell was going on here? The tension must have been painfully obvious because Lucio scampered away like a frightened squirrel.
“Uh . . . hello . . . I’m . . .”
“I know who you are,” she said with her eyes narrowi
ng.
I couldn’t believe this was happening. “What’s this about, Mrs. Davis?”
Her mouth was drawn tightly in anger and when she parted her thinly glossed lips, it looked painful. “Please have a seat, Ms. Mitchell, we need to talk.”
“I don’t have anything to say to you, Mrs. Davis.” I turned to walk away.
“If you take one more step, I will embarrass us both. Please sit down.”
Now I was getting furious. A part of me wanted to test her but Mama always told me never to test someone who is desperate and has nothing to lose. I used the Four Seasons a lot for business and I couldn’t afford to get banned. I eased down in the chair and sat there stoically.
“You have been sleeping with my husband for quite some time, Ms. Mitchell.”
The turtleneck I was wearing felt like it was squeezing tighter and tighter around my throat. “Obviously if you went to this trouble to get me here, you must know for a fact that I am sleeping with Brent, so I won’t insult your intelligence. But to be quite frank, Mrs. Davis, I think this is a personal problem between you and your husband.”
Her milky skin became a rosacea-colored blush. She leaned forward with her teeth gritted. “I’m glad you won’t insult my intelligence because I know exactly what you’ve been up to. I’ve been looking at all of Brent’s receipts and credit card statements and the purchases . . .”
I held up my hand. “Like I said, this is between you and Brent. Don’t worry about him seeing me anymore because I’m done with him. I don’t need this drama.”
She sat back with a smirk on her face. “It doesn’t matter if you see him or not because I have filed for divorce and I’m going to take him for everything he has. So, Ms. Mitchell, he won’t be able to afford Badgley Mishka and all those other gifts you’ve been receiving.”
So much for the ruby earrings.
“How did you get me here?” I asked.
A waiter came over to take our order. He looked fresh from Sicily.
“I’ll have a cup of Earl Grey,” she said.
“I’ll have the same.”
She sat sideways so her long stockinged legs could cross. I could tell by her mannerisms that this woman came from old money.
“Brent was at home when he called you. I heard everything when he asked you to come here to meet him. I simply called his secretary back pretending to be you and cancelled so I could meet you here.”
“I see.”
She became even more relaxed and I did, too, for some reason. I guess it was because neither of us wanted anything to do with Brent anymore.
“Might I add, Ms. Mitchell, that it is to your credit that you are just as unapologetic about sleeping with my husband now as you were on the telephone.”
This was getting too weird. “I think you’ve had your say, Mrs. Davis. I’m going to leave now.” I stood up and grabbed my coat.
“You may leave now if you want to but I think you should know about Lula Karapachoo first.”
“Who the hell is that?”
