Page 1 of Love Without Demands

Prologue 1

PAUL BOUVIER - AGE33

“Paul, I just wanted to let you know the divorce papers have been served to your wife in Vermont.”

Clutching the phone to my ear, my teeth ground together when my attorney said that word.Wife.Chloe Bouvier had been my wife for over a decade, but recently, the title was in name only. There was absolutely no love left in our marriage.

“Thanks, George. Keep me updated,” I said before hanging up.

Chloe had always been a selfish woman, but it hadn’t bothered me that much. Not until our son was born. I smiled at the thought of Auburn, my five-year-old, with his dark hair and big blue eyes. He was a good boy, quiet and thoughtful, but with a ready smile whenever I came home from work each night.

A smile that he lacked whenever his mother was around, however. It hurt me to the depths of my soul that the woman I’d married was so cold and unfeeling toward our boy.

And toward Evelyn, or Evie as Auburn liked to call her. I picked up the photo on my desk, and my lips crooked up at the corners. My baby girl and Auburn were sharing my lap, andthree sets of matching blue eyes stared back at me. Evie’s hair was a few shades lighter than mine and my son’s, but otherwise, the family resemblance was obvious.

How the hell can Chloe’s heart not melt when she looks at these two precious children?They were my world. My wife was too, in the beginning, but after Auburn had come into our lives, Chloe’s narcissistic personality had been shoved to the forefront. She was cold and unfeeling, bordering on cruel.

I knew she was jealous of our son since she was no longer the sole center of my universe, but that’s how it’s supposed to be, right? When you have children, you make room in your lives and in your hearts. We should have been drawn closer as a couple, but the opposite happened.

Chloe and I hadn’t shared a bed in a long time. Well, except for that one night months ago. Fuck. I hated myself for giving in to the temptations of the bottle.

Reminded of my vice, I stand and pour myself two fingers of bourbon before walking to the huge windows and looking out over Manhattan. I’d built theBouvierfashion empire here, and I hoped one day I could hand over the reins to Auburn and Evie.

Chloe had left for a retreat in Vermont the day after I’d allowed her into my bed all those months ago, and I can’t say I was saddened by that. The guilt of sleeping with my wife ate at me, and when she announced one day later that she was going away for a while, relief tore through me like a freight train.

Why did I feel guilty about sleeping with my own wife? This is going to make me sound like a total asshole, but here we go. I’d begun to develop feelings for someone else. Someone I couldn’t and shouldn’t want. But I did.

So many times I’d drowned myself in a bottle of bourbon, and when Chloe appeared in my bedroom that night in June, offering herself to me, I took the opportunity she was giving. It had beenabout a year since we’d last had sex, probably the night Evie was conceived.

With liquor sloshing through my veins and sexual neglect hardening my cock, I’d ripped Chloe’s negligee off and tossed her on my bed. Our joining that night wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t filled with sentiments or thoughts of reconciliation. No, it was a hard, rutting fuck from behind, meant only to satiate a biological need.

I cringed at the memory and slugged back the contents of my glass as my eyes caught on an orange leaf floating on the September breeze. I loved fall in New York.

My little girl was six months old now. Her mother had been gone for three months. Three fucking months! She’d just abandoned her infant daughter and five-year-old son, and on the rare occasions Chloe would call, she didn’t even ask about them.

That only solidified my decision to serve her with divorce papers. There was absolutely no chance that this marriage could be saved. I’d tried for years. I’d spoiled her, showered her with attention, flowers, and gifts, but the more I gave, the colder she became.

Because I wasn’t giving hereverything. I wasn’t giving her my undivided adoration. Chloe was incredibly jealous of my relationship with my kids. I didn’t neglect my soon-to-be-ex-wife, not by any means, but any time I spent with Evie and Auburn drew more and more derision and contempt from her.

So I finally did it. I called my attorney and got him to draw up the divorce papers. It was a fair settlement, giving Chloe much more than our prenup allowed, but I didn’t care, and I was pretty sure she would be amenable to it as well. She was wealthy before our marriage, and with the amount of money I was offering, it would only increase her monetary worth. All I asked was that I be granted custody of the kids. Hell, she didn’t want them anyway; that much was obvious.

The phone on my desk buzzed, and I turned from the window and hit the button to connect to my personal assistant. “Yes, Carol?”

“Mr. Bouvier, Franklin is pulling the car around.”

“Thank you. I’ll head down now.”

I set down the empty glass and pulled on my suit jacket. Checking the mirror in my personal restroom, I brushed down the stray locks of my black hair and straightened my tie, transforming myself into Paul Bouvier, the composed and stylish CEO of a major fashion house.

Appearances counted in my industry, and I didn’t want my employees to see the man I’d become. A broken man with a dependency on alcohol just to get through the miserable days and nights.

But, hopefully, that misery would be alleviated soon.

I entered my grandiose red brick home through the front door, my shoes squeaking across the cream marble floor. My nose led me to the kitchen, and I paused in the arched doorway.

Estrella Acosta was standing with her back to me, Evie on her hip, while she sang a low tune in Spanish. Her dark hair hung down her back in a long braid, and I noticed a bead of sweat drip down the tawny brown skin of her neck.

Estrella had been our nanny since Auburn was a baby, and I’d always been fond of the woman. She was kind and gentle, a true nurturer.

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