Looking out over the glittering lights he took stock of his current situation. He was a forty year old male in excellent health. OK, maybe he was a little soft around the middle. For the last decade his job had him trapped at his desk. His morning workouts and weekend cycling trips weren't enough to completely combat the time he spent at his desk. His doctor had informed him he could stand to lose 15 pounds. Now he'd have time to dedicate to making his body hard and fit as it had once been.
He was now a divorcé. No kids. Not because he hadn't wanted them but his wife hadn't been able to carry a child to full term. Three miscarriages had been the limit he was able to endure as each time he'd almost lost her as well. He'd planned on getting a vasectomy but he discovered after the third miscarriage they'd removed her uterus to save her life. There'd been no point in the vasectomy after that.
He was 5' 8" with broad shoulders, had a full head of black hair, silvering at his temples now courtesy of his ex, and he had all of his teeth. He'd been told he had a nice smile but he hadn't had a reason to show it for some time. With his square jaw and hawkish nose he knew he wasn't pretty like the men Stephanie preferred to fu- no... don't go there. He rubbed his chest and winced.
He'd been told by a few women in his office that he was 'a catch'. One had even expressed an interest in being the one to catch him when his divorce was finalized. He'd thanked them but he was in no emotional state to be thinking about getting into another relationship any time soon. Considering how destroyed he felt now, maybe ever.
He no longer had any ties to the city. They'd sold the Bed-Stuy townhouse and the cottage in Martha's Vineyard. They'd split the money on those. After months of hostile meetings and spiteful delays it turned out that she didn't want his money. She just wanted him to hurt. Now she was gone.
He stood up. It was time to move forward.
His partners were eager to buy him out at the company. George had the papers for him to sign in his office once the divorce was done so he'd have more than enough savings to retire and live very comfortably and then some. So that was what he was going to do.
Frank looked at the ring he was unconsciously rolling on his finger. It was just a simple gold band. Signifying his undying love and fidelity to the woman who poisoned both. With a sigh he pulled it off and dropped it in the trash on his way out.
Chapter 2
"YOU'RE A FUCKING CUNT! YOU KNOW THAT? A COLD FUCKING BITCH!"
Elyse quietly sat across the table from the screaming man. Her lawyer was telling him to lower his voice and his lawyer was tugging him back into his chair. That wasn't an easy thing to do considering how big Michael was. The 28 year old professional football player stood 6' 2" and carried 230lbs on his big frame. Enraged he was a dangerous man. Elyse's black eye was visible proof that she knew personally how dangerous he could be. It had been the second and final time he'd raised his hand to her. Five years of marriage, mostly happy, now flushed down the drain because of his substance abuse and subsequent physical abuse. She'd tried to get him help for the first but he wasn't interested. Told her to fuck off and mind her own business in fact. When he began to get physically violent she knew she had to get out of their marriage. The police report on the second assault certainly helped expedite that.
The big man finally sat and glared at the divorce papers. He was paying for the abuse. A lump sum. Elyse had her own money and a good job so she didn't want the financial ties to him which alimony would bring. Her lawyer had convinced her to make the amount count so she did. The lawyer was getting his piece of the pie so he was the only one in the room with a smile on his face.
The threat of her pressing assault charges and the prenup they'd signed before they got married was making everything so much simpler.
She saw Michael doing that thing with his eyes he always did before he began an attempt at bargaining.
"Sign the papers. We're done," she ground out between her teeth.
Michael's eyes snapped to hers and she saw them go cold. He picked up the pen and signed. Then he stood and left.
Her lawyer picked up the document and followed Michael's lawyer out of the room with a nod to her. Elyse found herself sitting alone. She finally allowed herself to cry. She'd been terrified of her husband but she needed him to sign. Now she was free of him.
When her tears stopped and her body finished shaking she composed herself as best she could and looked out the window at the twinkling lights of Los Angeles at dusk. It was pretty but she'd come to hate the city. It was Michael's home town and where his team was based. Everything about the city reminded her of him so she was leaving. She'd put her house up for sale and was expecting to get it sold before the weekend as offers were already coming in. She was looking at a little house in a pretty neighborhood in a small town further up the coast and would be putting an offer on it as soon as the money from the divorce came through. She'd already worked out the logistics of working remotely from there. Her office was delighted to be able to keep her as she made them good money.
Not everyone supported her decision to leave. The group of ladies she hung out with at work unanimously said she was nuts and she'd be back within the year. Of course they'd also been keen for her to marry Michael.
They said she was too young at 32 to move to a town noted for its suitability for retirees. They didn't understand she'd had too many years of living as the wife of a sports celebrity. He was four years younger than her and in their five years his enthusiasm for clubbing, partying, sports banquets, and road trips never waned. She'd joined him on a couple of those road trips and vowed never again. She was done with that!
She stood and stretched feeling every one of the bruises Michael left on her body. His last attack had been surprisingly violent. He'd carelessly left his cell phone on his dresser which rang as she passed by. She picked up the phone as the caller id was displaying a photo he'd obviously taken of the young redhead swallowing his cock down to the base. The tattoo he wore on his clean shaven groin just above his junk was unmistakable. She'd carried the cell to him in their living room and confronted him with the evidence of his fling. She'd told him she'd had enough and wanted a divorce. She barely saw the first punch coming for her eye and the others came after she was down. She was lucky to survive. She called the police when she woke alone on the floor. They brought the ambulance. She hadn't been alone with Michael from that day on.
She left the meeting room and ducked into the ladies' room to see how much of a disaster she'd made of her make-up. She stood before the mirror and sighed. Taking in her straight white blonde hair hanging to her shoulders she wondered if she should get it cut. Michael liked it this length. She frowned. Fuck him, she also liked it this length so it was staying.
She looked at her pale green eyes and saw the swelling was noticeably reduced on her black eye. She had, what did her friends call them when they teased her? Oh yes, 'bedroom eyes'. It wasn't intentional on her part. Her heavy lidded eyes combined with the natural upturn on her full wide sensual lips had gotten her into more uncomfortable situations than she cared to admit. She'd taken to wearing a pair of glasses with non-prescription lenses for meetings with clients. This did a good job of preventing these unintended miscommunications.
She was diligent about going to the gym so her 5' 10" body was reasonably fit. As Michael was a gym rat and had equipment at home she'd made good use of it. Her genes ensured she kept some of her curviness and unlike the bolt-ons that redhead slut on Michael's phone had been showing off, her large breasts were natural.
Enough! He was the past. He could have all the sluts he wanted now. She had her own life to restart.
Again. It was divorce number two for her.
She fought off a resurgence of tears. She had such fucking awful taste in men! Always the jocks! Always the over confident, charming alpha men! Maybe it was because of her height that she was drawn to big men.
Derrick Chance had been her first husband. Her first mistake. Granted she'd been an innocent eighteen year old when she married him. She'd been infatuated with the 6' 5" professional basketball player. He was big, black and tremendously talented on the court and between the sheets. Her parents were mortified that their daughter, pure as the Nebraska snow of home, had shared her bed with one of 'his kind'. They'd quickly disowned her and she hadn't spoken with them since. They would have hated Michael as well she supposed.
She followed her new husband to Los Angeles as he'd signed a multiyear contract to play professionally. She learned a lot about what she liked and didn't during her three years with Derrick. He had a voracious appetite for sex and she discovered that she did too. However, the thing she liked least was Derrick's tendency to stuff his cock into any and every receptive hole when he was away from home. The availability of free pussy on the road was a temptation he made no effort to resist.
