Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Fucking liar. Lying bastard!
I squeeze Max’s hand without even realizing I was doing it as he shoves me under his arm.
His lips press to my head. “Come on.”
I relax beneath his guidance. Once we’re outside, Max calls a taxi down and blurts off directions to our hotel. An hour later and we’re hauling ass up an elevator and onto the second floor. I didn’t know where or what he had booked. I didn’t care, to be honest. I just want this to be over, Bryant to be dealt with, so I can go back to not having a life to live.
“You okay?” Max asks, pushing open the door and allowing me in.
I offer him a polite smile. “Yes, I just want this over.”
He nods, kicking the door closed behind him and dropping his small suitcase to the ground. “You and me both.”
I remove my jacket, noticing the one bed that was in our room. It was a queen, but there was only one.
One bed.
Shit.
Max seems to look at the same time as me, his eyes shifting to where I was standing. “I can sleep on the couch.”
I shake my head, blowing out a breath of air. “No. Don’t be crazy.”
He chuckles. “What’s crazy is your hair. Damn.”
I touch the ends again. “I didn’t think it would turn a mix between brown and blonde. Basically bronde.”
Max makes his way into the kitchen laughing.
I didn’t tell Max what I was planning to do, mainly because I was afraid what he would say, but I need to talk with Bryant alone. I want him to see me, the real me. I want my fucking revenge. He left me at the hands of my father to be eaten alive, only he didn’t know that my father’s appetite was bottomless.
We both lost Harper, but he didn’t lose me. I lost him.
“Want a drink?” Max asks, peeking around the corner while holding a small bottle of wine. I should say no. I don’t need any alcohol in my body to influence me, especially when I’m around Bryant. But I need something to take off the edge.
“Sure.” Only a little. I watch as rich pinot slowly fills the glass. Sighing after taking the first sip.
“Isa, listen…”
I shake my head. I don’t want to hear what he has to say, because I’m partly scared that it will be a confession. I’m not stupid. I know. I pick up the vibes that he sends out. Or maybe he really is a good person who wants to help me, and I’ve been around the wrong kind of men my entire life.
Which judging by the current situation that I’m in, is looking like the more realistic reason.
“Max, if I clear your name with my father, will you be happy?” I try for a distraction that would work on both of us, because I’m needing it too. I’m thinking irrationally. The old Isa would have jumped straight into bed with this man the second she found out that her husband had left her out to rot, but this time I want to do things differently. I have to.
“Define happy?” He leans back, kicking his feet out in front of himself. His carefree persona is only more hypnotic.
I place the red wine onto the table in front of me. Obviously, I don’t need any bad encouragers when it comes to Max, and red wine to me is what a molly is to a teenager. “If I get your job back…”
He shakes his head. “I don’t want it, Isa. I don’t want that anymore. I can’t work for someone who doesn’t share the same vision that I do.”
I relax into my chair, bringing my glass back to my lips. I’m at a loss for words, and that doesn’t happen often. What does he want? Why did he help me? As my eyes connect with his, I can’t help but think of every single question that I thought of when I woke to find him in the cabin.
“You’re thinking too much…” Max interferes as if hearing my thoughts out loud. “Stop thinking. You’re too smart.”
I snort. “Too smart? I’m certain that’s not it. Have you met my husband?”
He leans forward and licks his lip. “I know you want to see Bryant. I know you think he’s still your husband.” He fishes out a folder from his backpack and slides it across the table. It’s yellow. Actually, no, it’s mustard. Ew. It’s as though yellow took a shit on brown and smeared it all over this folder.
My eyes shoot to his. “What is this?”
Max brought his glass to his mouth. “Take a look.”
Bryant Saint Royal.
Occupation: CEO of Royal Enterprise Holdings. Entrepreneur.
Reason for filing: Mental incapacity at time of marriage.
I gasp, slapping the cover closed. “He filed for divorce?” And then I read over the words again. “And that fucker filed under mental incapacity? Is he saying that I was fucking insane at the time of the wedding?” I breathe in and out, my eyes closing. I’m trying to be a better person, but right now I want to take to Bryant’s balls with a scalpel and tear off his dick.