Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 68688 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68688 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
It took her a moment to understand that I referred to the roses on the corner of her desk. “I saw you admire those. Yes, I have a small garden on my terrace. Do you like to garden, Fleur?”
“No.”
Linda grabbed the small vase in her hands and rose to her feet to bring it to me. “How about you keep this—” A bit of water swished over the top and streaked down the side of the vase and over her hand. It made the surface slippery, and the vase fumbled out of her hands and smashed to the floor, pieces of glass flying everywhere, mixed in the pool of water and rose petals. “Oh dear, I’m so clumsy.”
Adrien immediately went to her aid. “Let me help you. Do you have a broom?”
“Yes, in the closet,” Linda said.
I just sat there and stared at the broken glass. A piece had landed next to my shoe—and another clear across the room in the opposite corner.
Linda picked up the large pieces and set them on her desk while Adrien swept with the broom, getting most of the shards into the pan. They worked together, neither seeming to care that I didn’t bother to get up and help.
When Adrien was finished, he dumped the glass into the garbage can. “I think I got it all.”
My eyes went to the piece in the corner and then the one right by my shoe.
“I’m sorry about all of that,” Linda said. “Sometimes I forget I’m not as quick as I used to be.” She returned to her seat behind the desk.
Adrien smoothed out the front of his shirt and retook his seat.
The commotion died down, and it turned quiet once more.
My eyes remained on the glass in the corner, the piece that wouldn’t be noticed for a while—until Linda stepped on it and heard it crunch under her shoe.
“Now, where were we?” Linda said.
My eyes finally left the glass, and I looked at the woman who’d barely gotten a chance to know us, whose work was done before I even walked in the door. “I want a divorce.”
Linda stilled at my statement, and then her eyes flicked to Adrien.
He cleared his throat. “Fleur—”
“I want a divorce,” I repeated.
“We’re here,” Adrien said. “Can we at least finish the session?”
“No.”
He released a sigh. “Please. You said you would try.”
“And I tried,” I said calmly, knowing my heart was dead and no amount of drugs or paddles were going to restart it.
Linda looked at me. “May I ask what prompted such an abrupt change? Because you seemed receptive when you walked in the door.”
I glanced at the glass in the corner again. “Because my trust is shattered, and there are too many pieces to put back together.”
“We were there for less than ten minutes—”
“It’s over.”
He followed me into the apartment. “You said you would try.”
“And I did try.” I turned back around. “You know how hard it was for me to go down there? No one gets married expecting to get divorced, but I really thought we would last. I really thought we were different—like a freakin’ idiot.”
“We are different.”
“No, we aren’t. We’re just another couple where the husband fucks around because he’s rich and thinks his wife will just put up with it.”
“It was one time.”
“That’s what you say…”
“Fleur—”
“I’m so fucking done with this.” I threw up my hands in frustration. “I don’t want to be married to you anymore, Adrien. I don’t want to try. I just want to move on. Stop forcing me to do something I don’t want to do. If you love me, you’ll let me go. If you’re the man you say you are, you won’t use your resources to block my attempts to be free of you.”
Adrien was rooted to the spot, looking cornered like I was the one who came at him. For the first time, he was speechless, out of ammo. “Why do I feel like he has something to do with this?”
I felt myself stiffen even when I didn’t hear his name. He still had his grip on my throat, still had his thumb in the corner of my mouth. Our time together had been brief, but it left a lasting impression. “I haven’t spoken to him in a week.” He hadn’t contacted me. That could mean he moved on with someone else or lost interest. Or he wanted to give me the space to figure this out—unlike Adrien, who was down my throat every other day.
“That didn’t answer the question.”
I held his stare and my silence, unsure what I would say even if I could speak freely.
“He’s dangerous, Fleur. Trust me on that.”
“You’ve hurt me far more than he ever could.”
He stepped forward. “You don’t understand.” His eyes shifted back and forth between mine. “He is death.”
I didn’t know what that meant, but bumps formed on my arms anyway.