Page 102 of The Rebound Plan

“I thought?—”

“You thought wrong. Ice League is going to happen, and I want to be a part of it.”

“There’s a third option,” I say desperately. I yank my wrist out of his grasp. “Guam. With the right amount of money, a divorce can be granted there in seven days.”

“You’ve looked into it, then?”

Fuck.

That glittering gaze turns dangerous. “No, Shannon. I don’t want a quick divorce from you without getting something in return.”

I can’t breathe.

“Meet with Francois. Help close the deal on me headlining the league.” Max shrugs. “And then you can have your quickie Guam divorce that will free you to be with your stupid Scottish crush.”

“You can’t believe for a second that I would just want out because you’re a horrible husband, can you?”

“No.”

Desperation claws at my insides. “How do I know you’ll honour this agreement?”

“If you have enough influence with Dumas to have him extend an offer to my agent, you’ll be able to persuade him to rescind it if I don’t keep up my end of the bargain.”

I hate how he says influence and persuade. He makes them sound X-rated.

But the worst part is that I know he’s right. That is exactly the power I hold here in this moment.

I lick my lips. “I’m not moving out of this house until the divorce is finalized. And if you change the locks while I’m in New York, all bets are off.”

“I’ll book you a room at the Ritz.”

My stomach turns at the thought of Max acting like my pimp in this transaction. “I’ll book my own accommodation.”

Francois always preferred The Lyle Hotel on the Upper East Side, anyway. More discreet, more luxurious. Better soundproofing.

For a moment, I consider saying that. Using my own scalpel to try and wound Max the way he wounds me. But you can’t hurt someone like Max. You can only try to hold on, survive, and get out by whatever means necessary.

Which means I also can’t beg him not to tell anyone about this.

Fingers shaking, I take out my phone. I can feel him smirking as he watches me book a flight for tonight. And a hotel for three nights, at least to start.

Maybe I’ll get lucky and Francois won’t even be in New York this week, and I’ll have a final shopping trip on Max’s dime.

But deep down, I know I’ll stay in the city until the billionaire can see me. I’ll fly anywhere in the world to have an audience with the man who holds the key to free me from this marriage.

It’s late by the time I get to the hotel. I haven't been back to New York since we moved.

Max wouldn't have been comfortable with me visiting without him, and then our summer was just really busy. I meant to come back, but it just didn't happen.

And now, as I take a town car into the city, I feel like I've come home.

At the same time, I’m not exactly eager to move back. For one thing, I don't think I'm going to be able to afford the rent. And there are already way too many reminders of my marriage here.

But if I dig deeper than those years, New York is also where I discovered myself.

And then, unfortunately, lost myself for a period of time.

So coming back is a reminder of those coming-of-age experiences that I had, and I have a lot of nostalgia for that time in my life now that I’m safely past it. Plus, the shopping is unparalleled.

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