Wrath Of A Woman

9. The Correspondence Dinner (Part Two)

To know your enemy, you have to become the enemy.
-Sun Tzu.

"Now that is the kind of woman I say deserving of the Kendall name, not some cheap, self-centered whore."

Claudette ran the words over and again in her mind, and with every echo, her temper rose. It was funny how upset she was, because Deanna Kendall had done nothing but hit the nail right on the head. She was self-centered...but cheap? A whore?

Her mind wandered to moments prior to the present, her internal camera zooming in on Travis's expression. He had not looked angry or pleased or annoyed, just impassive.

Why? It was the question of the moment. Why had he allowed her humiliation at his sister's hands? Why had he not said a single word in her defence? Didn't he know his marriage, as well as social life depended on her keeping her mouth shut?

She turned to him, fully intent on demanding an explanation for his callousness, but was unprepared for the fear that struck at her core with one look.

Invariably drawn to the entryway of the opulent ballroom, was Travis's eyes, and the object of his gaze, she knew without doubt, was his wife.

Gabrielle Marie.

The name left a bitter taste on her tongue, much like drinking sour milk, except there was nothing sour about the woman.

Blessed with stately good looks, she only had to snap her fingers, and men were willing to lay the world at her feet. It was the kind of power every woman craved; to have men go insane with want for them, and that was what made her fear the situation.

It wasn't that she was self-conscious, because she wasn't. Hers was a body made to be worshipped-she knew that. It was because Gabe made her feel self-conscious, and all she had to do was be present. In her presence, she was relegated to second place, and it was never a good look on any woman-to be cast aside because you aren't half as captivating as the other.

She watched as Gabe mingled, her charm turning on by a tenfold as her listeners hang onto her every word. She laughed a little, throwing her head back to reveal slender neck. It was captivating. Claudette wondered if she could ever amass the grace and poise with which the other woman held conversations. She worked the crowd like magic; praising, flattering, and smiling as if she'd been doing this her whole life, which was ironic.

For six years, Gabe Kendall deemed it not worth her energy and time to attend the annual Kendall Group correspondence dinner, and she suddenly appears, looking like that.

'That' was possibly the biggest understatement of the year. The woman's look this evening deserved more than a monotonous description yet when you were as envious as Claudette was, even angels turned sinners.

She saw the look Travis gave her. It was of pure and unadulterated admiration, and then some. His eyes lingered on her chest, and what ample chest it was, down to the narrow thigh-high slit of the dress which revealed nothing more than a peek of unblemished skin. Claudette had a feeling he was modifying this present image of Gabe with the ones from his memory.

A man approached Gabe, and Claudette, in slight amusement, watched as Travis fisted his hands at his side before dropping them in realization. His jaw ticked so hard she felt they might crack with the pressure he was exerting on them.

The look in his eyes said all that needed to be said-Travis Kendall didn't like mysterious looking bachelors chatting with his wife. The sharp sting of pain that went through her heart at that realization had her reeling, and she tightly gripped her champagne flute, knowing full well that a little more and the glass would break and cut her.