Wickedly Wicked

Chapter Five

Thomas glanced at the business card on his mahogany desk. The italic green lettering read Lily and Lara Inc. Who the heck was Lara? Across from him, Donald droned about the Slite's robust sales.

"If you have nothing important to add, let's call it a day." He swore if he heard any more drivel from the marketing director's mouth, he would kick him out of his office.

"But, Thomas, we haven't even discussed the sales in Germany and the rest of Europe." A baffled Donald pushed his wiry glasses up his nose.

"I've already seen the reports from these regions. Our sales are as strong as ever." He closed the file and slid it towards him.

Donald wanted to say something, but he shrank under his stern look and made a beeline for the door with an inaudible mumble.

Once alone, Thomas leaned forward and typed in Lily & Lara Inc. on his laptop. Sure enough, a simple, classy website with the tones of various greens in the background appeared.

The company sold unique pieces that defied the norm by using iridescent crystals, ornate metals and the other requisites. He could see the appeal of the brand amongst women. It offered more than jewellery. It promised them personality.

A click on the 'Founders' tab filled his screen with photographs of Lilliana and the co-owner, Larissa Braxton. Attired in a blue dress, Lilliana laughed at the camera, playing with a strand of pearls around her neck. Creative designing was her specialty, while the other girl was the 'visual engineer' who put it all together into something extraordinaire.

The blonde hovered on the fringes of his memory. His brows furrowed. He didn't know Lilliana as well as he thought he did, but it could be remedied easily.

From the quick scan of the website, he surmised there was no 'brick and mortar' store. The company was still in the early stages of its operations. L&L had a promise of churning big dollars. These two knew what they were doing.

Picking up the card, Thomas turned it over, and her neat, cursive script mocked him. He didn't treat women like that but showed them a good time, second date or not. Regret tightened his chest. He had been heartless to her, and she had still left a civil message and paid for the dinner.

He had chatted with Alex longer than he should have, and when he had turned his attention to the table, she was gone. Had he expected her to stick around? The answer was a resounding no.

Most women wouldn't have foot the bill. They would have sulked, but Lilliana hadn't created a scene and had thanked the staff. The last part was relayed to him by the beaming steward. His chest puffed out.

At night, he had lain awake into late hours, thinking about only one thing. What had she wanted from him? Whatever had persuaded her to reach out to him, it must be of a grave nature. Save for her birthdays, she had always shied away from accepting gifts.

At long last, he succumbed to sleep and to his great frustration, Lilliana continued to consume his thoughts during the days that followed.

He traced the scratched-out, obscured word. "Regards what, Lilliana?" he wondered. "What did you cross out so I can't read it?"

A thought struck him. He riffled through his personal email. Soon, he found what he had been searching for—old emails. He never deleted them, and some went back to university days. He clicked on one and scrolled down to the end. It was signed off 'Regards, Your Lilliana.'

Excited, he scanned through several others. Each time the signature 'Regards, Your Lilliana,' as expected, stared at him.

"My Lilliana." The words tumbled from his mouth like an old habit. As if it was the most natural thing to do. Closing his eyes, he repeated, "My Lilliana." An image of a tall, willowy woman with an enticing smile that would even tempt a monk flashed through his mind.

His eyes flew open. Guilt pricked at his conscience. Lilliana didn't deserve such contempt for whatever perceived wrong she had done to him. Her lack of affectation and courteousness at the restaurant were proof enough. Even the maître d' was smitten by her. The fool had a strut of a peacock in his steps. 

Thomas needed to put things right. He had many questions, but what had transpired at the dinner wasn't the answer. The restlessness plaguing him subsided as if sucked into oblivion. It wasn't like he had anything better to do other than return to his empty home.

A memory of the delicious cinnamon apple rolls that Lilliana's mother used to make teased him. He used to steal them when the parents weren't looking. Thomas banished the recollection to the recesses of his mind. He refused to go there.

Suddenly, a skinny girl invaded his thoughts. It made him chuckle. Who would have known that she would transform into a striking woman with expressive eyes? It had caught him off-guard, but something organic and sensual about her called to him.

There was a combat ahead. Thomas was ready.

He would get to the bottom of the favour she wanted from him if it was the last thing he did. The thought gave him a purpose for the first time since his divorce.

He would be Invictus. 

But first, he had to make things right. He had wronged her and that didn't sit well with him.