Page 147 of Mafia Obsession

Daria doesn’t flinch, just leans back in her chair. “Your husband for one.”

“You know very well he has nothing to say to me.” Istraighten. “I don’t want anything except my freedom. And we both know if I go to any divorce lawyer in this city, half of all of this will be mine. I never signed that marriage agreement. I suggest you get Ambrose or some other legal person around here to draft something up by the end of the day. Either way, I’m leaving.” I spin on my heel, glad I got all of that out on one breath.

“Where are you going?” she asks, halting my steps out of her office.

“I’m taking my sister to a facility in Arizona. I have a cousin who lives there, and I’ll have a place to stay. I’ve already arranged her transfer. That was my plan all along.”

“I’ll prepare the papers and your settlement,” she says.

“Just like that?” I turn around and fold my arms. “He’s waiting for me to end the marriage first, isn’t he? So he doesn’t look like a jerk?”

Daria doesn’t answer that. “You’ll have papers sent to the penthouse in twenty-four hours. Ares will want you to have security.”

“I don’t need guards anymore. Ares has shown the world by moving into the Aurelian without me that I mean nothing to him. And I have assurances that Sandrine means nothing to Kirill. I saw the woman he’s been flaunting all over Chicago.”

“Mafia men are unpredictable. Especially the Bratva. A different kind of blood runs through their veins,” she says.

“Unlike very predictable Greek ones,” I counter. “And I don’t want any settlement. I have the stipend account. That’s still mine, correct?”

“It is,” Daria answers.

The Zervas stipend and the old Nathan Craig funds still sitting in a local bank are more than enough money to start a new life. Monthly alimony is a tie to Ares I don’t want. Regardless of the dollars.

“Thank you. Please have those papers delivered to the penthouse by close of business.Today.Not twenty-four hours.” I don’t give her a chance to respond or argue.

I’m done.

Chapter 61

Ares

The rope jerks twice as the boat shifts against the anchor, dragging my leg sideways across the rock. The sudden movement vibrates through the neoprene and sends a sharp, piercing pain up my calf.

I twist instinctively, grabbing for the line before it can pull me farther off balance. Or tear my leg off.

The current surges again, and the damn rope tightens its twist on my leg. With this fucking anchor dragging, untangling myself is much more difficult. I’ve no choice because if I don’t get myself clear, the current will take me with it, and I’ll drown.

I force the panic down the way I have a thousand times before. Panic wastes air, and air is the one thing the ocean doesn’t offer to humans.

Slowly, I bend toward my trapped ankle and see the line is wrapped around it twice.

I slip my fingers between the coils and extend my foot as straight as it’ll go. All I need to do is wrench it sideways, ignoring the burn in my lungs. But the fucking current fights every movement. The rope refuses to give.

Oh fuck…

Then the anchor shifts, slipping across the sea floor, and the tension in the line eases just a bit. Just enough for me to loosen the coils holding me captive.

Moving quickly, I yank at the ropes and rip my leg free. With the last of my breath, I kick hard off the rock bed and shoot upward through the swirling blue water toward the light above.

My lungs ache now, the pressure building in my chest as the surface draws closer.

Closer, but still so far. Dizziness closes in, and I feel numb. I close my eyes and swing out my arms, giving one last kick, hoping it’s enough.

Mercifully, my head breaks through the surface, and air floods back into me in a harsh gasp. Coughing, I tread water until the dizziness passes.

For several minutes, I simply hold on to the boat while the echoing pain of that brief, violent pull lingers in my muscles.

Stupid. I made a careless mistake that could have ended very differently.