Page 73 of Bittersweet Revenge

She stepped out, but kept the door open. “Stay. Let's talk. Don’t walk away. You do it all the time. Please, Caleb, don’t go to her. Please, I beg you…” Her voice broke. She was not trying to hide her tears and it tore me apart.

Was it always about Aleksandra? Was there no other reason for her outcry?

“Don’t worry, Esmeralda, there will be no Aleksandra. She is not discreet enough. From now on my indiscretion will be more socially acceptable for you,” I added and drove off before she could see how much of a lie that really was.

Chapter 15 - Caleb

When I made it to the Stonewood Club, I walked directly to the bar and ordered a bottle of bourbon. I sat down by the fire and checked the security feed on my phone just to make sure that Esmeralda had made it home safe. I was furious and betrayed, but couldn’t stop caring even if I wanted to.

I ran my hand over my face, trying to wash away the weariness that only physical exertion could really get rid of.

I gestured for the Majordomo to come forward.

He bowed slightly. “How may I help you, sir?”

“Is there anyone available for fencing or squash?”

“Mr. Stuart McAllister just requested a fencing partner. Would you like me to inform him of your wish to fence?”

I nodded. “Yes, I’ll be in the fencing room in a few minutes. I’m going to change in my family quarters.” The quarters were actually only a room and a small bathroom, but were still a luxury that only very few members could afford in this club. Being the blood of a founding member ensured I was one of them.

Stuart was already in the room when I arrived, tightening the laces on his fencing shoes.He threw me a look and I knew he could see my anger and sourness. It would be hidden under my mask in a few minutes, then I’d start inflicting as much pain as I could, imagining that instead of Stuart, it was a myriad of people who had offended me and caused me pain. Strangely enough, I never pictured Esmeralda even though she was the source of most of my issues these days.

But instead of asking any questions, Stuart nodded a hello before concentrating on his shoes again. I stood beside him, finishing my set-up in silence.

This was something I liked about the older McAllister brother. He didn’t pry, probably because he didn’t care. He was at university studying medicine. His father was a renowned plastic surgeon. His mother was the heiress of a global restaurant chain. They were old blood too, rich – maybe not as rich as me, but then who really was?

We fenced for thirty minutes straight. The anger had only started to fade when Stuart raised his hand for a break.

“No, not now,” I growled.

Stuart removed his helmet, forcing me to stand down. His face was soaked with perspiration, his breathing short. Dark curls stuck to his forehead.

“Man, you’re killing me,” he huffed. “I expected a gentle match, not this. I need water.” He limped to the bench and sat down heavily.

I stayed on the piste, staring at him, my mask still on.

He took a big gulp of water from his bottle. “You won eight bouts out of ten. I clearly can’t catch up.” He was still breathing heavily. “I concede defeat. I’ve got to go home and study.”

That was something weird with him; he didn’t mind losing. There was something wired wrong in his brain. That had me thinking about the rest of his family, his sister, Anne.

I removed my helmet and walked closer to him.

“Your sister has been shunned, hasn’t she?”

He looked at me, his jaw set. “If you’ve decided to talk shit, you better just walk away. It won't make me want to fight you, but it will make me reconsider any future bouts and you know you won’t find a better opponent here.”

“I’m not asking to mock. I just want to understand. You didn’t fight it. She didn’t either.”

Stuart sighed. “Why? Are you planning to shun your fiancée?”

I looked down, removing my shoes. That was the million-dollar question.

He sighed after a while when he realized he would not get any more information from me. I knew I wasn’t being fair, but it was the way it worked.

“I didn’t fight it because it was what she wanted. Her fiancé had a little conscience and didn’t want an unwilling wife. Anne was, is, in love with a good man. He’s a working man and she slept with him long before she was forced into that stupid betrothal.They came to an agreement. He shunned her through a contract. She was on her own. My family had no more rights over her.” He shrugged. “She is married to the man she loves. She has a nice little house in Boston, which is probably no bigger than your pool house, but she is pregnant and so blissfully happy. She’s been gone three years and she doesn’t miss the money, not even a little.”

“I see.”

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