The Wedded Whore (Completed)

Chapter Eighteen

He'd looked at her for a long while as she waited there, quite agitated, and then he'd picked up the phone and called his secretary, telling her to freeze all calls for the next one hour, that he had something he was working with his visitor and did not wish to be disturbed. And then they'd gotten into the rehearsal for her role, with him playing the role of her abusive husband while she slipped into the role of the submissive, suffering wife. He had done it partly because of the fact that he'd wanted to help her but also because of the fact that during his high school days and the first two years of higher education, he'd been involved in the drama groups and he'd loved it. Now, helping this lost soul see her way into the movie world was a dream come true for him and he would not pass it up.

The way she'd acted, slipping into the role of the abused, crying woman so effortlessly and naturally had been amazing, and even her tears had been real_ any sane person who'd heard that voice would have thought that she was at the point of death as she'd called his name over and over again, begging him to spare her, that he was killing her.

It had been so real . . . the bitch had really been there to set him up and record their small role play so that the tape could get to his wife and they could accuse him of aggravated assault and battery. Jesus! Adamma is a monster, he thought, and then he remembered what he'd told that Isabella bitch about the fact that she was such a talented actress; that she should pursue her dreams of getting into the movie industry. She was really talented, all right; the bitch. Oh, you have no idea how talented. The talent nonsense had all been a setup for him to fall into their trap; the fact that she'd mirrored his every desire, his every pastime, his hobbies and his interests, had all been a ploy to get him to fall for her charms so that they could hold him by the balls and then squeeze him out and then hang him to dry.

It was as if the girl had been coached by Adamma herself, because she was the only one that seemed to know him more than any other person in the whole world. She had him down to a T.

And it had worked. He was no fool; he knew that every fool in the whole world who listened to that tape would believe that he'd really beaten the bitch senseless; she even had the fake makeup bruises and the fake witnesses who had carried her to the car to prove that he had abused her. Adamma had won. She wanted something from him, and this tape, coupled with the fact that there was the heavy risk of scandal should the matter ever blow out in the open, and the possibility of a jail term hanging over him should there ever be a conviction, would guarantee whatever she wanted from him.

She had sent him an email, notifying him of the fact that there was nothing he could do to save his ass except to do what she asked of him. If he refused, then there would be heel on earth to pay for the act. And he knew that she was one tough cookie that would do exactly what she had said she would do to him.

He was even ready to do anything for that woman so long as the tape vanished from existence altogether. That was the handwriting on the wall for him to read; he was walking on a very thin rope and he knew it. Adamma knew it, and he knew that she knew that she now had the power to bleed him dry. And it was all because of the fact that he'd been trying to help the stupid young whore she'd foisted on him. God, the anger he felt against his wife was so strong he almost had difficulty breathing now. He really wanted to put his hand around her beautiful throat and choke her to death, until the very life had oozed out from her eyes.

Until those luminous eyes of hers turned blank, closing as if they had they had been turned off by some light switch.

That would teach her a lesson, all right.

Her impending blackmail was as unexpected as it was shocking, and though he had never expected it, he couldn't say that he was surprised that she could rise up to that height just in order to get back at him, he thought, just as his phone rang. The ID panel indicated that it was her, and he clicked on the answer button.