Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92529 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92529 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Bastards had been far smarter than him.
With a deep breath, he faced the window and focused on the fat snowflakes falling faster to the ground. His sandwich sat by his hand, forgotten.
Right now, he needed a meditation session. A long one. Dealing with that woman drained him and not in a good way.
“I’m curious,” Tully said, leaning over the wide island and dragging Mitchell’s plate closer to him. “What more is she thinking to get? She’s already taken half of what you got for playing ball. No offense, but she’s lucky you gave her that, all things considered. That’s enough. The two of you are divorced.”
Thank God.
“I know we are, and trust me, had I listened to you two and not married her in the first place, I would have even more money. And no battle scars.”
Because damn, those scars were deep.
“She still thinks she gets Inicio, or rather proceeds from it?” Linc popped open a soda and drained nearly half before reaching for Mitchell’s chips. “Because that’s not in your name.”
“She feels that I withheld it from her and because it’s computer things and ‘big money’ she should get part. She’s going to the papers, which means people are after me about interviews and I’m not doing them. I’ll only do one when I finally take the company back from you two and am ready to make my announcement.”
Linc muttered something entirely unflattering about her before he demolished the bag of chips. Mitchell didn’t argue. He agreed with his friends. That woman, well, she wasn’t worth a damn in his mind.
“And since I’ve paid her a shit ton, she can afford a lot of expensive lawyers.”
Tully wiped some mustard from the corner of his mouth and belched. “Sounds to me like they’re expecting a big payout when she wins.” He smirked. “Which she won’t.”
“She’s not wrong, Inicio is making a lot of money.” Linc again.
And dammit. It was his money. Two more months. That was it. Then the company would officially be returned to him and he wouldn’t have to worry that his ex-wife could get her hooks in his profits. His legal team had suggested waiting a certain amount of time before putting it in his name and he wasn’t going to ignore that advice.
“Not my money.” He looked around the kitchen, one of the few rooms in the house that was finished.
Thankfully, he’d had the foresight to put everything in his best friends’ names. Also, he was blessed to have Tully and Linc who he could trust with such a favor.
“No, it’s not.” Linc went to the fridge and opened it.
“Christ, do you have a fucking tapeworm?”
“Told you. Hungry.” Linc rooted around before pulling out some leftover pasta.
“She’s complaining that I want her to suffer because of, how did she put it? Oh yeah, that one little indiscretion. It’s purely that I’m spiteful.”
“She start crying?” Tully’s words were drenched in disgust.
Mitchell put his back to the sprawling view of his backyard, currently covered in snowflakes. “Of course she did. And when that failed to stir a response, she went to anger.” He looked at his left hand, the tan line where he had worn his ring no longer visible. “Then she began chucking things.”
“Hope she knows you’re not replacing anything she broke. None of us are.”
“That woman, Tully, I don’t know anymore.”
He swallowed his snort.
One.
Little.
Indiscretion.
Like hell.
“Meaning?”
He stared at the ex-hockey player who, with Linc, was polishing off the leftover pasta.
“The fact that she is trying to lump all of the men she cheated on me with into one is fucking hilarious. If that’s what she called fucking some—and that is estimating lightly—of my teammates, not to mention the multiple men from rival teams.”
Slow, deep breathing.
“I told her we have attorneys for a reason. Use mine. Don’t call me again. Then I hung up on her.”
Linc watched him, black eyes unflinching as he held a fork in his mouth. “And your temper?”
“I didn’t lose it.” A shrug. “Not completely.” He returned to the large island and braced his hands on it. “I wanted to rage and call her more names than books in the Bible.”
They nodded.
He smacked a hand on the counter. “I want a medal. I deserve sainthood. Actually, I’d be good with a fucking cookie.”
Like a large one, right out of the oven so the chocolate chips were still gooey and warm. Not that it had to be chocolate chip. He would be happy with any type of cookie.
Great. Now he wanted a cookie. And he didn’t have any in the house.
“Dammit!”
Linc smirked. “He doesn’t have any cookies in the house.”
“Fuck off,” he snarled. “I don’t have a woman who loves me, baking me sweets like you two do.” He held up a hand to hold off their next words. “I don’t want one, either. Bad enough The Viper is going to drive me to change my number.”