Treachery

Luca

Ta

He’d had his moments of being a decent guy back at Yale, and it’s those moments I cling to now as I get dressed to go to the party he demanded I attend.

I’ve spent the last week holed up in my apartment, a pity party of one as I binged on Netflix and called out for delivery of just about every different food within a ten-block radius of my building. It’s possible I’ve put on five pounds while hiding out within the safety of my apartment walls, but I’ve needed the time to process everything:

The divorce.

My future.

And Ta

As for my divorce, I’m excited to finally be free of a man who obviously doesn’t love me. Why Clayton chose to marry me at all is anybody’s guess.

Perhaps it had something to do with what happened with my mom, a spur of the moment decision he regretted as soon as we signed on the dotted lines of the marriage certificate, exchanged rings and said I do.

I can’t be sure when he started cheating on me exactly, but I suspect it began the day following our return from our honeymoon.

Maybe I’m just being bitter, and really, when the cheating started doesn’t much matter. What matters is what I do with myself now that the marriage has finally crumbled, and I’m left flailing with no job experience and very few contacts in the professional world to get me on my feet again.

Which leads me to questions about my future.

It‘s up in the air whether I will get the money Clayton owes me from the three miserable years I’ve spent as his wife. That all comes down to what Ta

Three million dollars would go a long way as I set out to recreate my life. Maybe I can go back to college and finally finish my degree, or maybe I can find something else I want to do, something that includes travel.

The possibilities are endless, but only if I play this right and keep Ta

Which brings me to my biggest problem of all.

I’m once again in the sights of the most arrogant asshole known to mankind, and I have no doubt that whatever he wants from me will be something I won’t want to give. If it isn’t sex, then what the hell could it be?

How long will he drag me along?

And why aren’t I more upset about having him back in my life?

Am I a

Ta

Yet here I am, checking my gown in a full-length mirror, a pure white strapless bodice that flows down as a wash of silk in an hombre progression of monotone shades that ends in pure black where it swirls at my ankles. My figure is stu

Satisfied with dress, I choose silver strapped heels to go with it and sweep my hair into a French twist. I keep my makeup minimal and turn to glance at the clock on my bedside table to see I have ten minutes to get downstairs if I want to be on time for the limo Ta

Sitting on the edge of my bed, I consider not showing up.

By climbing into that car, I will be telling Ta

It stings my pride to acquiesce to his demands, but despite every possible way I can think of to get out of it, the sad truth is he has won.

I need that money, and if I don’t go along with whatever Ta

Is money worth the hit to my pride?

Normally, the answer would be no, but I have a future to think about.

Perhaps the price he’ll ask won’t be too difficult to swallow.

I almost laugh at the absurdity of the thought. Of course, it will be difficult to swallow, and I’m sure whatever it is will be rammed down my throat as deep as he can go without concern for choking off my ability to breathe.

My eyes find the clock again. It’s officially seven on the dot, and unlike the fairytale princess who arrives at her carriage on time, I slowly push to my feet, punctuality and ma

It’s not like Ta

I can’t blame the driver for Ta

Slowly gathering my purse, and stopping to check my makeup and hair, I leave my apartment and meander down the hall toward the elevator. It doesn’t bother me that it takes seven minutes for the elevator car to arrive, and I’m not flustered when a person at the other end of the hall waves a hand and shouts for me to hold the doors.

It goes against my ma

“Thanks for that,” he huffs out as he slides home into the car, his expensive leather shoes coming to a halt to my left.

I nod politely in response, flashing him a friendly grin while trying to politely ignore how disheveled he looks. I turn my head to watch the small red numbers light up as we make our way downstairs.

“You look nice. Are you going somewhere special?”

Turning back to him, I grin. “A party.”

“Sounds like fun.”

The man has pretty blue eyes and a friendly smile. However, his grey suit can use a good ironing, and his red patterned tie doesn’t exactly match the pink shade of his shirt.

“I bet you’re looking forward to it.”

“Not really,” I answer, my cheeks heating to say it. He’s just trying to be nice, and it’s rude of me to drag him into my problems.

“I’m being forced to go.”

He tenses at the statement, not quite sure what to do with that tidbit of information.

Silence creeps between us as the elevator car crawls down between the second floor and the first, his whispered question making me chuckle.

“Like physically? Or is somebody just guilting you into it?”

Turning to him as the car lurches to a stop, I answer, “Blackmailed, actually.”

His eyes widen. “I’m sorry to hear that. Is there someone you can call for help?”

The elevator dings and the doors pull open before I can respond.

“When I say seven, Luca, I’m not making a suggestion.”

My head snaps forward, gaze locking with dark, moss green eyes framed by inky black lashes that are currently narrowed on my face with a