Chapter 5
Colette could tell she was already creating a buzz with her dress. As she stepped into the main reception hall of the function, a sharp wolf whistle pierced the air. Heads turned, eyes widened, and she felt the weight of countless gazes upon her. Men and women alike were taking second glances, their expressions ranging from admiration to envy. On any other day, if Colette were in her right mind, she would have felt terribly embarrassed and gauche receiving such attention. She might have even blushed furiously, wishing for a hole to crawl into. But tonight, she barely cared.
Her aunt, who had raised her since childhood, always had a saying that echoed in Colette’s mind now: “When your whole house is burning, you can’t run in to save the chicken in the oven.” Those words had always seemed oddly practical, if a bit dark, but now they resonated deeply with her current state of mind. Her marital home was burning down to ashes right in front of her eyes, and what people thought or said about her was the least of her concerns. She was beyond caring about the metaphorical burning chicken when her entire world was in flames.
She was properly inside the venue now, and Tanya had been right when she said that this year's St. Anthony’s gala was even grander than the last. The venue was a masterpiece of luxurious interiors, with glittering chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling, their crystals refracting light into a million tiny rainbows. The walls were adorned with rich, dark wood paneling and intricate gold accents, while lush, deep red carpets muffled the sound of her heels clicking against the floor. The tables were covered in pristine white linens, set with gleaming silverware and lavish floral arrangements that exuded the scents of roses, lilies, and orchids. The air itself seemed to shimmer with wealth and sophistication.
The guests matched the setting, each person dressed to impress in designer gowns and perfectly tailored suits. Jewels sparkled on wrists, necks, and ears, and the hum of cultured conversation filled the air. Colette’s heart beat faster as her eyes darted around, searching for her husband among the crowd of hundreds of well-dressed men and beautiful women. Her breath came in short bursts, a mix of anxiety and determination fueling her frantic search, but to no avail.
As she walked through the crowd, Colette’s mind raced with thoughts of what she would do if she found him. Humiliate him? Give him a tight slap and tell him she was leaving him in front of all these people? The idea was intoxicating. She laughed softly to herself, a sound that bordered on madness. There was a wildness in her eyes, a glint of something unrestrained and free. There was a freedom within her now—the freedom to do anything she wanted because she knew she was going down, but she was determined to take him along with her.
“Excuse me, miss—can I help you?” Colette stopped her search and looked at the black-suited gentleman standing in front of her. He had a polished demeanor, with a name tag on his coat that suggested he was the manager. “Are you looking for someone, miss?”
“Yes, my husband, Mr. Matheo Angelis,” she replied. She hadn’t realized she had said it loudly enough for a few people around her to hear. Their heads turned, and she saw expressions of shock and judgment as they openly stared at her revealing dress. Others looked on with interest, sensing the brewing drama. The crowd parted almost comically, like a scene from a movie, giving her a clear view ahead. There he was, holding court in the center of a group, looking every bit the majestic tiger among the crowd. And just as expected, right beside him stood his favorite woman—his cool, blonde secretary, Iris. She wore a sleek black cocktail dress, one shoulder bare, her thin arm draped possessively around Matheo like a snake as she laughed at something he had said.
Matheo looked every bit the charismatic figure he always was, with his perfectly tailored suit that accentuated his broad shoulders and lean frame. His dark hair was slicked back, and his piercing eyes scanned the room with a predator's ease. He exuded confidence and power, commanding attention effortlessly. The group around him was enthralled, hanging on his every word, their laughter mingling with the soft strains of the orchestra playing in the background.
“So, how is Brisbane, darling?” Colette didn’t know where she found the strength to smile like that, as innocent as a newborn babe and as guileless as Matheo thought she was. She found satisfaction when she saw Matheo's shocked expression, his eyes widening for just a second before fixing on her face, as if he couldn’t believe his "stupid" wife had found out he was here. But showing any kind of emotion was not Matheo’s best feature. He hid the shock quickly and smiled without missing a beat.
“Oh, Colette, I thought you would never get here!” he exclaimed. Words, Colette thought, were such a double-edged sword. What he just said had a completely different meaning because while his lips were stretched into a smile, his eyes spoke a different language. He looked annoyed, then angry, and even more furious as his eyes finally did a double take on the red open-slit dress she was wearing. Bastard! He was pretending as if he had invited her here instead of lying to her and getting here with his secretary.
Matheo quickly closed the distance between them, his arm snaking around her waist in a possessive grip. “Colette,” he growled in a low voice meant only for her ears, his smile never faltering for the audience around them. “What the hell are you doing here dressed like this?”
“Oh, darling,” Colette replied sweetly, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I just wanted to see my beloved husband. And what better place than the grand St. Anthony’s gala?” She glanced at Iris, who was glaring at her with thinly veiled contempt. “And to meet your lovely secretary, of course.” But Iris was way too smart to say anything to her face in front of Matheo. Colette knew that. The two faced bitch only showed her true colors in front of Colette, when Matheo wasn’t around.
“Colette, this isn’t the time for….”
“This isn’t the time for what?” Colette interrupted, her voice cold. “For a wife to see her husband? Or for a secretary to step out of her place?”
The tension between the three of them was palpable, drawing the attention of nearby guests. Matheo’s smile grew strained as he tried to maintain control of the situation. “Colette, let’s not make a scene,” he warned softly, his grip on her waist tightening.
“A scene?” Colette laughed, a hollow sound that sent shivers down Matheo’s spine. “Oh, darling, the scene has just begun.” She turned to the manager, who was still standing nearby, looking uncomfortable. “Can you please get me a glass of champagne? I have a feeling this is going to be a long night.”
The manager nodded quickly and hurried away, leaving Matheo and Iris to deal with the fallout. Matheo leaned closer to Colette, his breath hot against her ear. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Colette,” he hissed.
“No, Matheo,” Colette replied, meeting his gaze with unwavering determination. “I’m not playing a game. I’m ending one.”