Second chance with the Billionaire

My head hurt by the time I got up. Talon’s hands were wrapped around my waist. If he wasn’t sleeping, I would have totally freaked out. I tossed and turned all night. Coupled with the fact that the bed was tiny. This wasn’t the luxury I was used to. But I was getting a hang of it. I promise. 

It's only a temporary fix and I’ve been incredibly lucky that Talon agreed to share his tiny apartment with me. What would I do without him? Putting up with the cramped conditions is the small price I have to pay to feel the familiarity of a good friend. 

A divorce is never easy when you’re divorcing a billionaire. Things tend to take longer than a normal couple’s divorce. It all made my head spin when we were going through the process. Managing my single life, staying knowledgeable in my small company’s finances and trying to be a good friend to Talon was enough to make anyone’s head ache.

Thankfully, Mihir- my husband had finally signed the papers. Even if it all came too easy, I don’t mind. At least I will finally be free of his tyranny. The thought of him still makes a shudder trickle through my spine. The glimmer of freedom from him is all I needed to push through anything I’m going through now.

My former lifestyle was all a ruse anyway. The glitz and glamour hid all the pain I felt inside. I got tired of the gossip, the fake sympathy, the fake smiles and even the whole pretense. You can only live a lie for so long.

As I stare at the ceiling, hoping to God that I fall back to sleep, my phone starts ringing at my bedside table. I blindly reach out, shutting my eyes and swiping right without checking the caller ID. If I open my eyes, there’s a heavy chance of not falling asleep again.

“Hello,” I murmured, trying to keep my voice down so as not to wake Talon up.

“Mrs. Conoretti,” the tiny voice responds on the other side of the phone. It's MaryAnne. The head of maids back at Mihir’s house.

 I almost correct her there and then. I’m not Mrs. Conoretti anymore.

“What is it?” I ask, getting rid of any sense of politeness I had in me. We were really close and respected each other but now, I am no longer a mistress at the house and courtesy is not something that came on caffeine deprivation and a few hours of sleep.

“Mr. Conoretti wants to know where his black tie is.” I frown instantly.

“Bedroom closet, left drawer, second row, third on the right.” I sit up on the bed.

Why can’t he leave me alone? Why is he always trying to destroy everything that I have? Look at him, trying to exercise control from a distance. I shake my head and lie down again.

The phone goes off again. I answer, bracing myself for anything.

“Mrs Conoretti,” MaryAnne says again in her shaky voice. Mihir has definitely made her cry again. 

“Mr. Conoretti wants you to come and pack for him. He has a business trip to Paris in two hours.”

My patience snaps immediately. 

“We’re divorced,” I spit. “Tell him to pack himself.” I would not be at his beck and call for the rest of my life. My finger hovers over the end call button.

“Get here in thirty minutes.”

There he is. Grit and steel and no manners at all. He would never change.

“I’m no longer your free maid, asshole. We’re divorced and there’s no way-”

“You still owe me two million dollars,” he growled into the phone, cutting me short. His voice is dark. “I’m looking at your IOU now, so...”

Shit.

I instantly changed to my polite voice. The one he knew well from six years of painful, submissive marriage.

“I’ll be there right away.”

I would help him pack alright and I would slap his two million dollars in his face. That was enough to keep him away for some time.

Sleep is off the table.

Swinging my feet off the bed, I slide my feet into my cozy slippers and shrug on my robe.

I start running my bath. I take my time. I know how mad he would be if I was one minute late. But he doesn’t have any power over me now. I’m not his wife anymore. I still pour in the extra lavender oil Mihir loves so much. I’ve already poured it in before I catch myself. Will I ever heal?

After having my long warm bath, I put on the sexiest dress I have in my wardrobe. Anything to let him know that things have been fine. Coffee sounds perfect. It would settle my after-dealing with Mihir and give me a chance to pull myself together before heading to work from the Conoretti mansion.

As I reach the bottom step, Talon lifts his own cup in greeting.

“Morning, sunshine,” he says, smiling and having a sip of his oatmeal milkshake. His headphones are laid out on the table. He probably just came back from his run. He has been begging me for the past month to join him. I want to, but I don’t have that much time to spare.

 My company is still a start-up and everything has to be in place. I shuffle to the counter and pour myself a cup of coffee, adding enough milk. I take a long satisfying sip, allowing the coffee to settle her nerves and warm my insides.

“Good morning,” I finally answered Talon. “Another long run?” He nods.

His muscles look toned and he has been getting fit, but I would not tell him that. He would use it to judge me forever.

I’m about to ask him who he saw on his run this time, when my phone rings. I jump and Talon stares at me weirdly.

It's Mihir. He called with his own number this time.