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JoJo distracted me.
The floral scent invaded my nostrils. Slowly I spun.
Alma lounged in the chair by the window, bathed in moonlight.
“We’re separated. You can’t come and go from here as you please. I’ve provided a generous monthly housing allotment.” My jaw locked as I spoke.
Why is she here?
It was like she had a homing device for when my mood elevated so she could bring it down.
“But I have things here. And I’m allowed access,” she purred as she stretched out her legs on the ottoman.
I needed to get it in writing immediately that she couldn’t come and go from the apartment whenever she wanted. And before a judge. Why hadn’t I done that already? Why hadn’t Whitley? Oh, because I didn’t want to think about anything to do with Alma.
“You don’t have any belongings in my room.” I emptied my pockets onto the dresser.
“I wanted to talk.”
I closed my eyes and kept my back to her. I recognized that tone. It was the one that meant she’d be agreeable to get what she wanted. In fact, she’d used it on me to get this apartment.
Obviously, it worked.
“Have your lawyer send mine a letter.” I yanked off my tie. She’d done this on purpose. She’d waited until the end of the day when I was tired and she could use that against me.
At least I’d had tea instead of whiskey.
Whiskey.
I needed some if I was going to deal with her.
“Don’t be like that.”
Had I not given this woman enough?
She hadn’t wanted me. Hadn’t wanted a real marriage or children—that was one thing we’d agreed on. What if we’d brought kids into this hell? I’d give her credit for not tormenting innocent people.
The jewelry, the house, the cash, the lifestyle... none of it had ever been enough. Was she determined to drain every last bit of life from me?
“Forgive me,” I said acidly. “I can’t imagine what I haven’t given you that you could possibly want.”
“Maybe I rushed into this separation.”
I spun, my eyes bulging as I gaped at her. She twirled a lock of hair around her finger and nibbled her bottom lip. The picture of innocence.
“We’ve been separated from the minute the ink dried on our marriage license,” I spat.
“Then we could carry on as we have been.”
“No.” The suggestion made my stomach turn. She’d almost set me free from the prison I’d been in for so long. Now that I’d had a taste of that freedom, I wasn’t giving it up.
“Kane.” She exaggerated my name.
“You can’t find a lawyer willing to go against me.”
She was quiet as she held my gaze. Something about that knowledge fed my already large ego. My profession was what I’d clung to all these years. I’d focused on it and excelled at being a lawyer, even if the rest of my life was a total failure.
“Of course I can.” She straightened her shoulders, but I knew this woman. She was lying.
