Karma

That is not the case this morning. I gaze at my company. She has tried to conceal her identity with a multicolored hat and dark sunglasses. She didn’t think this through or she is another victim of Hollywood deception that you only need, a hat, sunglasses, dye your hair or cut it to blend into crowds without being known. It is eight in the morning, no sun, hands down she has all the attention. The irony.

“I know who you are.” She whispers, and i look around in pretense that i don’t know that she is talking to me.

I smile mischievously without lifting my head , “Am I wanted and there is a reward I am not aware of?” I avoid her eyes and keep them on my drink.

“You are Karma.” She whispers again and looks around afraid someone might have heard her, Yet we are the only ones here and the bartender who is far from us and his concentration on wiping his glasses.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” I remove some money to pay for my drink.

“I can prove it.” She says and places her titanium card on top of my money.

Who is this woman? I get curious but let it die before i indulge into it further.

“You have the wrong person,” I say, confidently.

I stand with the intent to leave.

“I need your help and you are the only one that can help me.” She stops me and removes her hat and sunglasses.

I immediately take recognition of her identity. It is Cassandra Thorne, the wife of the billionaire Christian Thorne of the Thorne PR. Women seek me out for one thing, I pray this is a different one.

“I need you to punish my husband.” She says.

It is the same line I have heard a thousand times. The difference, it is that it is said through a computer, none of those women know my face. So, I am curious how she knows me.

“I can’t.” I say, blankly.

“Why? You brag how you are for women. Am I not a woman?” She is confused.

I size her up and down and give a look she understands, ‘She is certainly a woman, a pretty one for that matter.’

“Those women are not wives to Christian Thorne and we both know he is not one to play around.” I state.

“Like you said i am his wife and i know him better. I will help you.” She counters my excuse.

“I am sorry, i wish you well and hope you find what you look for.” I commiserate with her.

She looks down with her eyes filled with dejection, “Sit.” She begs.

I carefully sit like any quick movement will blow me up. Being near her truly makes me believe that the media don’t do her any justice. She is stunning, she has a heart shaped face, a pointed nose and full lips. She is the S.I unit of beauty. Her poise is comforting and draws you in. Looking at her i can’t help but wonder what men want.

“I can not take It anymore, my desperation had me looking for you.” She cries, defeated.

If only i had a penny for every time i heard that...

“Why do you want me to punish your husband?” I ask.

She gives me a puzzled look before she answers me, “He has disrespected our vows and he has been having affairs.” She sobs. These are the reasons I don’t meet with theses scorned women face to face. I hate weeping people.

“Why not leave him?” I pause and reflect if she really had thought this through before speaking again, ” I only handle last resort cases and this is not how I operate.”

She smiles painfully, “I am at the end of the rope.” She declares, “I can’t leave him.”

“I only help women leave and ensure their children are taken care of, I don’t encourage stupidity.” I say, angrily.

Surely, she should have known that. My number one rule is don’t ask me to help keep a man that doesn’t want to be kept.

She takes out her handkerchief and wipes her tears. “My case is different.” She sniffs.

“Try me.” I dare her, sarcastically.

“My husband has these phases. He cheats, I bury my head in the sand, when that phase is over he comes back to me, this strengthen our bond but this time I think I might lose him forever.”

Everything she says gets my blood boiling. If only she knew...

I can’t still picture Christian as a cheat, he has this image and reputation he goes by. I would assume how he deal with business is how he handle his family, with honesty.

“Is that not a good thing, I can only help you leave him with half his wealth.” I say.

“I just want my family back not his money.”

What a foolish principle to live by, while the person she is fighting for doesn’t care.

“I don’t know how to help you.”

Her small eyes stare back at me, “I need you to seduce him and break him heart.”

My eyes and mouth widen. The look her deep into her eyes and realize she is serious. I am tempted to throw my head back and laugh. For your information, I rarely laugh.

She carries forth “...I need you to steal him from his mistress and break his heart until he hates women and I am the only one he can stand.”

This is the most ridiculous and stupid thing I have ever heard. Not just the entire charade but the part where i, Katerina, seduces Christian, in which world is that possible? Like he would breath my way. I laugh.

It is a joke! A joke to make me the joke!

“That is mission impossible.” I say, honestly.

For a second, i play with the thought and consider it a challenge.

Did my father or ex husband sent her to remind me how quickly a woman withers?

“I will be your guide on how to seduce him.” She calms my fears.

I am neither anywhere near his gorgeous wife nor his age. He is a twenty-eight mogul while I am getting to my expiry date, thirty. With nothing to my name.

“No.” I stand, “I can’t help you, find someone else.”

“You have angered a lot of men and some women who I am sure would love to revenge.”

“I correct the wrongs in society.” I proudly say.

“They don’t feel that way, if you want I can expose your identity to them.” I know blackmail when I hear one.

She stands and I note that she is few inches shorter than me.

I am above most women's height. It is a double edged sword for me.

She retrieves her business Card from her Gucci bag.

“You begin your assignment tomorrow. You should be at Thorne PR by eight to start your job.” She says.

I shake my head in disbelief, “I didn’t agree to it.”

She smiles thoughtfully and ignores me.

“Eight it is.” She says and walks away. Leaving me with a burning question, how did she know my identity.