Emile was instantly enraged by Greg’s hypothetical. He knew Greg was talking about him.
At this point, Quiara started trying to physically drill a hole down through the top of Greg’s foot with her heel, but Greg was determined. He kicked Quiara’s foot away from him so hard, Quiara shouted, “Ow! Greg, what the hell?”
Greg leaned forward and looked contemptuously at Emile. “You don’t think it is infidelity when a married man spends nearly $2,000 a month taking women who aren’t his wife to dine on gourmet French lunches at Le Coucou?”
As Greg said this, several women around the table put their hands to their mouths and began to blush. Greg looked first at Quiara, who instantly went beet red. She couldn’t look him in the eye. He then looked around the table. Most of the women Emile had been taking to the restaurant was both embarrassed and shocked to see that they weren’t the only one.
Emile’s rage doubled as it became obvious to everyone that Greg was talking about him.
“You don’t think that a married man spending nearly $20,000 on a tennis bracelet for the married woman he’s trying to seduce is infidelity?”
As he said this, Greg withdrew the jewelry box from his pocket. It contained the Tiffany tennis bracelet Emile had given Quiara earlier that week. He opened the lid and lifted it to show everyone at the table. There were gasps all around.
Next to Emile, Elodie had tears streaming down her cheeks. Greg tossed the Tiffany bracelet box across the table so that it slid to a stop in front of Elodie.
“Elodie, that bracelet should be yours and not Quiara’s.” Greg said angrily.
Greg looked over at Quiara who looked like she was about to be physically ill. Her hand was over her mouth. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, too.
Greg knew that Quiara thought she’d hidden the bracelet where no one would ever find it. She didn’t take into account how motivated her husband would be once his private investigator showed him the footage of Emile handing it to Quiara during their secret weekly gourmet French lunch.
Greg then looked at Elodie, who was now furious. She started hitting and slapping Emile and screaming at him in French. It had been fifteen years since Greg’s last high school French class, but he could hear Elodie saying, “She’s my best friend!” in French over and over to her husband as she beat him.
Emile angrily pushed Elodie away from him, stood up, and charged at Greg. This was easier said than done. He was at the opposite end of a huge oval table. He had to stomp around the outside perimeter.
“Emile, sit down!” shouted Greg. “You don’t want this!”
Greg had a momentary flash of fear as the fight or flight reflex kicked in. Emile was probably six inches taller and had at least forty pounds on him. Greg, though, was made of some pretty stern stuff and he stood up and held his ground as Emile approached.
Emile got within striking distance of Greg and stopped. As quick as a snake, his right hand shot out in an attempt to belt Greg across the face. Emile was a lot more athletic than Greg gave him credit for. His fast-twitch muscles and reflex times were superb.