Page 29 of The Wrong Husband

"We need to talk."

He turned a chair around and sat on it, leaning forward on the back of the chair. He was so close that I worried he would be able to tell that I hadn't brushed my teeth after I woke up from my nap and thanks to the pain pills Doc insisted I take when he was here, there was a weird taste in my mouth.

I folded my arms and waited.

"You're going to sign a post-nuptial agreement."

I raised my eyebrows and nodded, then shrugged.

"What?" He cocked his head, holding his ear close to my mouth. "Use your words."

"I’ll sign whatever."

He stared at me like I just spoke in Mandarin.

"Don't expect much in the form of payment."

"Payment for what?"

He was getting angrier, I could see that, and I really didn't need this bull to be any further enraged, but I needed to understand what the hell he was talking about.

"You're a gold digging bitch, we all know that. A hundred thousand dollars, that's the best I can offer."

I blinked now. What the…who? "Who is this we all?" Filter, woman!

"You will sign the fucking post-nuptial agreement, a marriage dissolution document that we will date when we feel it's appropriate; and an NDA."

I felt a tic in my eye. My head throbbed. My stitches were burning. I was two-hours beyond the need for pain medication, which I wouldn't take because it made me woozy, and I hated drugs of any kind. I think my period was about to start because I felt bile rise in my throat and tears in my eyes, both at the same time, which was a sign of either my menses or me needing to drink a bottle of wine because life was sucking hard. Either way, I was sick and tired of the shit I'd been put through in the past few days.

"You have these documents on you? I already signed annulment papers and gave them to your brother. He wants to stay married until the media hoopla dies down. I don't give a shit." I didn't know where I had the courage to go head-to-head with Duncan Archer, but hey, I was on my last leg of patience. I wanted my bed and my lavender candle; and oolong tea. I wanted my comfortable blanket, and my flannel pajama shorts and an old soft t-shirt. I wanted my lovely warm bed.

"Someone will get them to you tomorrow."

"Great."

"And, you can't live here with Damian. I know he wants you to, but you need to get the fuck out of here."

I smiled broadly then rose and slung my backpack on a shoulder. "Which is exactly what I was trying to do before you barged in."

He looked at my backpack. "What's in there?"

"My things."

He grabbed it away from me and opened it. And then to my horror, unceremoniously dumped the contents on the dining table.

I was too appalled to even yell at him.

My computer fell with a thud, and I cringed at the sound. He went through everything, and I sighed. Did he think I was stealing something? What the hell? I was one of the most honest people I knew.

My bag didn't have much. A pair of extra panties because you never knew when you needed them. Panty liners because…same reason. A Chapstick. A pen. A tube of hand moisturizer and a bottle of sanitizer. My phone with a credit card in the case. And the copy of the annulment papers I'd left with Damian.

He held up my computer and phone charger and dropped them on the table.

I'd taken nothing from Damian's place. I had even left the painkillers Doc had prescribed in the guestroom. Didn't want them. I'd seen way too many go down that path into addiction and I had enough problems already.

He picked up the copy of the annulment documents. He looked through them. "Where's the rest of this?"

"Rest of what?"

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