Silver Tears(2)

Her mother looked anxiously from Faye to Julienne.

“I don’t understand why you’re still working so much. You’ve only got a ten percent stake in Revenge now, and you’ll never have to lift a finger again given the fortune you made selling your shares.”



Faye shrugged, drained the last drops of espresso, and then placed the cup on the rattan table.

“Sure, there’s part of me that would really like to hang out here with you two. But you know me. I’d die of boredom after a week. And no matter how many shares I have, Revenge is my baby. And I’m still chairman. What’s more, I feel a tremendous responsibility for all those women who came on board and invested and are now shareholders in Revenge. They took a chance on me and the company, and I want to carry on repaying that. In fact, I’ve been thinking about buying a bigger stake, if there’s anyone willing to sell. It would be a good exit for them, at any rate.”

Ingrid sat up slightly as Julienne turned at the far side of the pool.

“The sisterhood,” she huffed, then caught herself and apologized. “I’m afraid I don’t have quite the same perspective on women’s loyalty that you do.”

“We’re in new times, Mom. Women stick together. Anyway, Julienne is okay with me taking a quick jaunt to Rome—we talked about it yesterday.”

“You know I think you’re incredibly smart? You know that I’m proud of you?”

Faye took Ingrid’s hand.

“Yes, Mom, I know. You take care of the kid and make sure she doesn’t drown, and I’ll be home again soon.”

Faye went to the edge of the pool. Julienne was snorting, switching between strokes and swallowing mouthfuls of cold water.

“Bye, sweetheart, I’m off now!”

“Bye, b—”

The rest was drowned out by another gulp of water as Julienne tried to wave while swimming. From the corner of her eye, Faye saw Ingrid hurrying toward the pool.

In the living room, her stylish Louis Vuitton case was packed and ready to go. The limousine to take her to Rome had probably already arrived. She lifted the case to make sure the wheels didn’t scratch the dark wood floors and headed toward the front door. As she passed Kerstin’s study, she spotted Kerstin absorbed in something on the computer screen, her glasses on the tip of her nose as always.



“Knock knock—I’m off now…”

Kerstin didn’t look up—there was a deep worry line between her eyes.

“Is everything okay?”

Faye took a step into the room and put down the bag.

“I don’t know…” Kerstin said slowly, without looking up.

“Now you’re making me worried—is it something to do with the stock issue? Or America?”

Kerstin shook her head.

“I don’t know yet.”

“Do I need to worry?”

Kerstin took her time to reply.

“No…not yet.”

A car honked outside and Kerstin nodded toward the front door.

“Off you go. Seal the deal in Rome. Then we’ll talk.”

“But…”

“It’s probably nothing.”

Kerstin smiled reassuringly at her, but as Faye went toward the heavy wooden door, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going on. Something threatening. But she would deal with it. She would have to. That was the person she was.

She got into the backseat, waved at the chauffeur to drive, and opened the mini bottle awaiting her. As the car purred off toward Rome, she sipped the champagne thoughtfully.





Faye examined her face in the elevator mirror. Three men in suits were eyeing her appreciatively. She opened her Chanel bag, puckered her lips, and carefully applied Revenge’s own lipstick to them. She tucked a strand of blond hair behind her ear, and replaced the cap with the engraved R just as the elevator reached the lobby. The men stepped aside to let her exit first. Her footsteps echoed on the white marble floor, the night air making her red dress flutter as the doorman held open the glass doors.

“Taxi, signora?” he asked.

She shook her head, smiling without slowing down, and turned right when she reached the pavement. The traffic beside her was at a standstill. Cars were honking and drivers were swearing through wound-down windows.

She reveled in the freedom of being a solo visitor to a city where she knew almost nobody and where no one could demand anything from her. Free from responsibility, free from guilt. The meeting with Giovanni, the owner of the small family-owned cosmetics firm that was going to supplement Revenge’s existing line of products, had gone splendidly. As soon as Giovanni had realized he couldn’t use mastery and male dominance to convince her to agree to his terms, the meeting had been turned to her advantage.

Faye loved the game of negotiation. The opposing players were usually men, and they always made the mistake of underestimating her expertise simply because she was a woman. Later, when they had to admit defeat, there were two types of men. There were the ones who left the meeting boiling with rage, their hatred of women even more firmly entrenched. And then there were the ones who loved it, who were turned on by her commanding presence and know-how, who left the meeting with a hard-on in their trousers and an inquiry about whether she was free for dinner.