Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 40554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 203(@200wpm)___ 162(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 203(@200wpm)___ 162(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
Not for long? Does she believe I would allow her to no longer be my wife? I'd have to be dead and gone for that to happen.
"I said out," I snap again. The guards had quickly left, but my assistant lingered. She scurries out, leaving me alone with Truly for the first time in almost a year. For her, however, our separation has been years long.
Her silky brown hair falls around her heart-shaped face, her cheeks not as round as before. Is she sick? My eyes flick up and down her body. She has on those black leggings that cling to her skin and a sweater on under her coat, but I can tell she's lost weight.
"Are you sick?" I ask. Why the fuck didn't I know she'd left campus? Is her security that fucking useless?
"What?" Her nose does a small scrunch, making my abs tighten. Truly's emotions have always played across her delicate features. She was never good at hiding them. She always blushed so easily. It's how I knew she'd had a crush on me when we were younger. One I hoped she'd never grow out of.
"Are you unwell?" I ask again. I need to get my irritation under control. Over the last few years, I've become easily pissed off and annoyed by the smallest things. I don't care to repeat myself, but for Truly I will.
"Seriously?" She rolls her eyes as she shakes her head. "Is that your way of saying I look like shit?" She crosses her arms over her chest and narrows her eyes at me. I hate that I’ve upset her, but seeing her like this also has my cock hard.
"Shit?” I don't think I've ever heard her curse.
"Yeah, shit." Now she's the one who sounds like she doesn't want to repeat herself either.
"You've never looked like shit, Truly."
"Whatever," she mutters, not sounding like the girl I once knew. I hadn't thought about her changing while I waited. Stupidly, I thought we'd snap right into place when she returned to the States. "I brought you these." Truly strolls over to my desk and drops a stack of papers on it. The word "divorce" is bold at the top.
"What are these for?"
She audibly lets out a huff of frustration.
There will be no divorce. All of this was so that I could have her. Are they now going back on their word?
“Blake, you know what they are. All you have to do is sign them. The gig is up. We can both move on with our lives. If you read them, you’ll see I’m not asking for anything but my freedom.” That last word strikes a chord in me. She’s my wife. I’ve waited years to have her by my side.
“I’m not signing them,” I say without hesitation. What the hell is going on here? I need to stall. “I would need my lawyer to look at it.” I don’t sign shit without my lawyer except my marriage license. I was more than eager to sign that.
"All it does is grant the divorce. Did you not hear me? I’ll say it again: I want nothing from you. We both just walk away." Truly says it with such ease. As though it's the easiest thing in the world. It's a punch to my gut.
"So you're not willing to live up to the contract, then."
Truly's brows rise, making her appear confused. "I just want out. I can't do this for anyone."
"Truly—"
"No!" she shouts. My sweet Truly is shouting. I have to fight the urge to pull at the collar of my button-up. My tie is feeling like it's choking me all of a sudden.
"You can shout all you want." I grab the papers off the desk and crumple them. "I won't give you a divorce."
"Fine."
I relax. Thank fuck. My relief is short-lived. Truly slaps down another paper. I grab it off my desk.
"What is this?" My eyes scan it, and I flip to the next page. "Is this—"
"A Pap smear? Yes, it is."
"Did you get on birth control?" There is a medical clinic on her campus. I was not told about any new medications, and I would have been. I'm her husband, and they are under strict orders to alert me if anything changes with her medical care.
"What does that even matter?" She rolls those beautiful eyes at me again. It makes me want to throw her over my desk and spank her little ass.
Shit, where did that fucked-up thought come from? I yank at my tie.
"It matters now. Answer me."
"I'm not on birth control, weirdo." Weirdo? "It's a Pap smear. My yearly checkup."
I was told everything went fine with her last one. "At the bottom of the second page, you'll see where it's marked that I still have a hymen." The paper crinkles loudly in my hold.
She better still have it. I don't care how fucked-up that thought is. I would fly back over to Europe to murder a man. Either way, she's still not getting a divorce.