Page 12 of Because I Need You
“So, you’re my husband?”
“I’m sure you’re pleasantly surprised,” he said as he looked over my shoulder. “Where’s Petra?”
“The dominatrix?” I shrugged a shoulder. “I had to take her out.”
At that, his brows lifted slightly, his eyes lighting in amusement as he continued to stare at me. I allowed it because I would not cower. These last six months, I’d been in many rooms filled with many men who thought they were too good for everyone else and each and every one of them had at some point proven otherwise. I took a step forward. He stood up, and I watched as he straightened to his full height. Shit. I hadn’t expected him to be so tall or have those wide shoulders and that athletic frame to go with that too-handsome-face of his. I swallowed and reminded myself that I was there to get a divorce and move on, so I walked until I reached his desk, setting the tips of my fingers on it, mimicking his stance on the other side of it, and held eye contact. He gave away nothing as he watched me.
“I’m sure you know why I’m here.”
“I don’t assume anything about anyone, so maybe you should just tell me why you’re here,” he said.
“I want a divorce.”
He stared at me. I tried not to blink. If this was a staring contest, I’d win. I’d won them against the best of them back in Queens and at the state of the arts high school I’d attended. I won against middle schoolers who thought they were hot shit. I wasn’t going to let this man step all over me.
“A divorce,” he repeated.
“That’s what I said.”
He took his eyes away from mine and for the first time, gave me a once over, that unlike Petra’s, set my skin ablaze. He tapped the tips of his fingers on the desk, before sinking back down into the seat. I continued to stand, crossing my arms now. To his credit, he didn’t drop his eyes to ogle my breasts, the way every other man seeing me in this tight hot pink corset dress would have. I was so glad I’d worn it. More importantly, I was so grateful for what I was wearing underneath it. Not that he’d ever know or see it, but when I had my good lingerie on, I felt like I could conquer the world. Tonight, was one of those nights.
“Here’s the thing, Isabel,” he said, nodding for me to take a seat across from him.
“What’s the thing?” I uncrossed my arms and sat down but leaned forward in the seat so he knew I meant business. The movement pushed my breasts higher in the corset, and this time, he did look, but only for a brief moment. “The way I see it, there is no thing. What you and my father did was illegal.”
“What I…” He laughed lightly, shaking his head. “You think I did this?”
“Obviously. Apparently, my dad was important in your world.”
“My world,” he repeated. “What do you know about my world?”
“That it’s illegal.”
“Illegal?” His mouth twitched. “What exactly do I do that’s illegal?”
“I don’t know. Things.” I threw my hands up. “What does it matter? I don’t care about organized crime, or your illegal or non-illegal activities. I just want out.” I glanced away, hating that my emotions chose this moment to come out. Once I’d steadied myself and when I made sure I wasn’t going to cry hot angry tears, I looked at him again. “I don’t want to hurt you or get you in trouble or whatever. I just want out.”
“Out of the marriage or out of this world?” He looked entirely too pleased with my display, and I had the sudden urge to grab the envelope opener on his desk and stab him with it. Maybe I did have a temper, after all.
“Both,” I said, taking my eyes off the envelope opener and looking at him again.
“But you don’t even know anything about this world. Maybe you’d love it.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“How do you know?” He waited. When I didn’t say anything, he continued, “How do you know someone won’t knock on your door tomorrow and tell you that you’re next in line to rule an empire, and then you’ll feel like you walked away from something big.”
“I don’t…” I shook my head. “I don’t think you understand, I don’t care if it’s big or makes millions or whatever the fuck. I want out.”
He raised his eyebrows, rocking back in the seat as he continued to look at me. “Where do you live?”
“Here.”
“Where?”
“Queens.” I swallowed, then rolled my eyes. “Chelsea.”
“Big difference there.” He cocked his head. “Which is it, you a Queens girl or a Midtown girl?”
“Both. Not that it should matter since it has nothing to do with the conversation at hand.”
“What do you do for a living?”
