Sweet Revenge

show.”
    It did indeed. She watched as Lauren went up to a podium decked with tropical flowers. Tomorrow, she had a production of her own.
    Adrianne’s suite at the El Grande was decorated in pastels with wraparound windows that opened up onto a flower-strewn balcony. It had a fully stocked refrigerator and wet bar, a mirrored bath with a whirlpool tub, and its own key-lock safe. It had its points, but she preferred the rooms she’d engaged at the El Presidente under the name of Lara O’Conner.
    With some regret Adrianne had retired Rose Sparrow.
    In her second suite of rooms, Adrianne kept her supplies. A few hours after the fashion show she was seated at the small table near the window, nibbling on kiwi as she studied the blueprints of the El Grande. She wasn’t yet certain which of the two methods of entry she would use. A perfectionist, she worked out the finer details of both.
    The phone beside her rang. “
Hola. Sí.
” Adrianne tipped back in her chair. Her contact was anxious. In her experience, messengers tried to sound their toughest when they were nervous. “I’ll be there, exactly as agreed. If you don’t trust me, amigo, now’s the time to pull out. There’s always another buyer.” She waited, sipping from her warming glass of Perrier. “You know his reputation. When The Shadow makes a deal, he delivers. You wouldn’t want me to tell him you doubt his ability to complete this transaction? I thought not. Mañana.”
    She replaced the receiver and stood, working out the kinks in her back and neck. Nerves. Annoyed, she closed her eyes, rolling her head slowly from side to side. She couldn’t remember having nerves like this in years.
    The job was routine—almost too simple. And yet …
    Philip, she thought. He’d thrown her a curve and she hadn’t quite fielded it. It worried her that he wasn’t on the island. It would have infuriated her if he had been.
    He could prove nothing, she assured herself as she pushed the balcony doors open. And soon, very soon, she’d be finished with what she’d set out to do.
    The sun hung in the western sky, brilliantly gold over the water. In a few hours the moon would rise, cool and white.
    The Sun and the Moon. Adrianne rested her palms on the rail and leaned out. Symbols of night and day, of continuity, of eternity. I’ll take it back soon, Mama, she vowed silently. Once I do, maybe we both can have some peace.
    The breeze fluttered over her face, warm fingers, caressing. There was a scent, hot, floral, that rose everywhere, inescapable. She could hear the waves hitting the sand, then sucking back. Over that was the sound of people laughing; shouting as they walked along the beach or snorkeled among the reefs.
    Loneliness. Adrianne squeezed her eyes tight but couldn’t ward it off. The season—she could blame it on the holiday season and the memories it brought back. She could even blame it on seeing Marjorie, and envying her hold on life after so many years of floundering. But it was more, so much more than that. She wasn’t just a woman standing alone on a balcony. No matter how many people she knew, or how involved she kept herself, she was alone everywhere.
    No one knew her. Not even Celeste fully understood the wars and questions that raced inside her. She was a princess from a land that was no longer her own. She was a visitor in a country that remained foreign. She was a woman who was afraid to be a woman. A thief who wanted justice.
    Just now, with the late afternoon breeze on her face and the smell of the sea and the flowers surrounding her, she wanted someone to hold on to.
    Turning, she went back inside. She might not have had someone, but she had something. Revenge.

Chapter Sixteen
    Business wasn’t on the agenda this morning. Adrianne wanted to bake in the tropical sun, snorkel along the reef in the diamond-pure waters. She wanted to sleep under a palm tree and do as little thinking as possible.
    It was Christmas Eve. Some of the guests had already returned home—Chicago, Los Angeles, Paris, New York, London. Most remained at El Grande to celebrate the holidays with piña coladas instead of hot rum punch, with palm trees rather than pines.
    Adrianne never spent the holidays in New York. She couldn’t bear the sight of snow or the view through the windows at Macy’s or Saks. Christmas was an event in New York, one that had thrilled her as a child.
    She could still remember her first sight of the elegant Victorian dolls twirling