Free Her Perfect Revenge by Anna Mara Page B

think of—
    She threw the rest of her martini into his damn, handsome face.
     
     
    * * *
    And there Bill stood—in the middle of his beautiful gardens, beside the glittering, moonlit swimming pool—with alcohol dripping down his face.
    Actually with gin and dry vermouth dripping down his face, if you wanted to get specific. And Bill wanted to get specific. He desperately wanted to get specific. In fact, in that instant, he desperately wanted nothing more than to put his tongue out and taste that delicious, enticing, alcoholic concoction—my God—it was all over his face. He could smell it—he could almost taste it.
    He hadn't been this close to it since—well—since—
    Bill stared hard at Christina who was warily watching him but his mind was on the alcohol instead. Should he put his tongue out and taste it? Just one lick? Who would know? Who would—? He had one millisecond to make a life-altering decision and he knew it. His tongue was so close—so close to it! He only had to—
    And that's when it happened. Bill instinctively did the only thing he could think of— he jumped into the swimming pool.

     

Chapter 14
    Christina was flabbergasted. Had that moron actually jumped—fully clothed—into that gigantic swimming pool? Well, what else could you expect from a drunken fool?
    She had come tonight to find out about the money she owed and as of yet, she hadn't heard one peep from either father or son. Something else was going on between those two and she wasn't going to stick around to find out what.
    To hell with the both of them!
    Christina plunked her empty martini glass on a lounge chair and started marching across the lawn. She was getting out of here and they could bloody well sue her for the money.
    As Bill came up for air, he saw Christina quickly walking away. Oh crap! Was she going to look for his bastard father?
    He had to move and move fast.
    With swift, smooth strokes, Bill swam to the edge of the pool and hauled himself out of the water. His Armani suit was sopping wet and—oh great—he'd lost one of his custom-made shoes in the pool. But he couldn't waste any time thinking about that. He just had to catch that woman and plead his case. Or stop her from talking to his father at least, until he could plead his case. If there was one thing he could do right in this world, it was to bullshit talk his way out of anything.
    Bill scanned the grounds. There she was—still marching across the property towards the salon doors. Thank God for large estates with expansive grounds.
    He started racing after her, moving as fast as anyone could in a drenched suit and one shoe. "Christina, Miss Matteo, wait!" he yelled as he limped after her. "I can explain; please."
    Christina heard Bill calling after her but she didn't stop. She was getting out of here and no one was going to prevent her from doing that. God, why did these rich people have to have these large estates with expansive grounds? She felt like she'd walked a mile already.
    Bill picked up his pace and was practically running after her. "Christina, just give me a chance," he shouted after her.
    If she made it back into his monster-of-a-father's lair, it was going to be all over for him. She would deny Bill's story and he'd be on the streets by midnight. Well, not the streets exactly—but definitely in a very, very cheap motel—the kind one lived in when you didn't have any credit cards or savings or anything. After all, what money he had made or could get his hands on this past year had gone to—but he couldn't think about that now. He just had to stop that blasted woman somehow.
    "Fifty-six thousand dollars." Bill suddenly, yelled out.
    Christina stopped, rooted to the spot.
    He continued, as he limped closer to her. "My insurance company called today with the repair estimate. Quite a chunk of change, isn't it?"
    Slowly, Christina turned to face him. Damn the man! She'd been serious about leaving this hellhole but now the enormity of the jam she