Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 50032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 167(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 167(@300wpm)
“I see you haven’t cooled down yet.” I toss the pen away, sit back in my seat, and take a breather. Tysen on the other end of the line is not who I expected. To be honest, I figured it’d be Jagger, calling from his dare devil vacation he takes two to three times a year.
“I’m at the office, if that tells you anything.” It’s not every day Tysen is able to make an appearance at a gathering. Especially when he’s booked back-to-back between the airline and doing his side gig being a private pilot. He makes more money doing the latter but likes the benefits from the big airline. It’s all part of his bigger plan of one day owning his own jet. From there, he can pick and choose what he wants, when he wants.
“You look at the papers?” He doesn’t beat around the bush, that’s for sure. I take a sip of my whisky, forgoing the ice or mixer; that’s how my fucking day is going.
“Yeah.” I don’t elaborate, still trying to digest that my wife would walk away from it all, not asking for a single cent even though she’s entitled to half of the apartment and some of Undercover Lovers. Winnie should take what she’s owed; it was her pushing me on to keep going when I got the offer to sell the night club, saying it’d be dumb when I put all my time, money, and energy into it just to watch someone else enjoy the fruits of my labor. It was also her who didn’t mind my schedule, working nights compared to her days. Others would complain, have complained on the rare occurrences the loneliness crept in and I tried to get over my wife. It didn’t fucking happen. I’d close myself off more, work harder, and while I had no problem watching others have their fun in Night Moves, I don’t mix business with pleasure.
“That bad? We need to call everyone in and figure things out?” Tys asks, thinking the worst.
“She’s walking away with nothing. The car and her rings are all she wants.” I take a sip of the alcohol I poured, trying to soften the blow of the only woman I’ve ever loved who’s willing to throw it all away.
“Man, can’t say I’m surprised. You remember the way she went about talking to Matthew, wanting a pre-nuptial agreement. You fought that, but she would have signed it and taken the same thing she’s asking right now.” Shit, I forgot about that. A month before our wedding, Matthew called telling me Winnie came into his office on her lunch break to talk to him. He doesn’t even work in family law. After college, he interned with several lawyers and found his niche. I can’t say that I’d choose estate law, but whatever floats his boat.
“Damn,” I mutter, thinking about the argument that ensued. Winnie threatened to not go through with the wedding until she signed a pre-nup guaranteeing that I’d be protected from her. I eventually got her to shut up, had to fuck her senseless, tell her that we weren’t putting an end date on a marriage we hadn’t even begun. It took me withholding an orgasm, using my mouth between her legs, watching her rock her hips, begging for me to give in, pressing the heels of her feet into my back as she arched her body, and getting me where she wanted. I held back, only letting her come after we came to an agreement. No fucking contract. Everything is ours, fifty-fucking-fifty.
“Seeing I’m ringing bells. Now, what are you going to do?” He knocks me out of my reverie, asking me the million-dollar question.
“Not sure. I’ve got her phone number. I know I’m not signing these papers until I get down to the reason why she stayed away so long.” I take the last sip of my drink, relishing the burn as it slides down my throat. Trent offered to run a check on her license, but I told him not to. The credit cards linked to my account and her name were never touched. Each time I’d get an alert, hope bloomed in my chest. Turned out it was only the company saying if the card wasn’t used, they’d close it out. I’d get online, input her number in order to keep it active. Jude even offered to dig up what he could on Winnie but more importantly Melanie. Still, I told him no. Why? Because I’m a fucking dumbass.
“Brother, you gotta figure this out. Either you fix your shit with Winnie, or you cut your ties and move on.” He’s not wrong. He’s also not right. And after today, I’m more confused than fucking ever.
“Thinkin’ I’m gonna swing by my parents’ house tomorrow morning. Maybe they’ll give me some insight. Enough about me. You mentioned earlier you wanted to pick my brain. May as well have at it before I finish this bottle of Macallan.” I stand up from my seat, click the button for speaker phone, and lay the receiver on the desk. A few short steps, cut glass in hand, and I’m at the bar I keep well-stocked in my office. While we don’t always have a meeting of the minds at Undercover Lovers, I’ve spent more than my fair share of nights after the club closes down, and the one thing that keeps my mind off the woman who plagues my every waking thought is the solitude and a stiff fucking drink.