Page 9 of Carved Obsession
“Talk to my lawyer, Bernard. I have nothing to say to you.”
“I don’t care about what you have to say. I’m calling about what you need to do.” The venom carries further.
I burst out laughing. “You may have a different definition ofneedthan the rest of the world, sugar. Leave me the fuck alone.”
“You never used to be so petty. So vengeful and...disobedient. Not with me. Does it hurt your ego so much to give me what I need?”
“Disobedient?” Red-hot rage colors my vision at his gall. “Are you under the delusion that I was nice to you because I wasobedient? You pathetic little man. I gave you fucking respect as a human, as my partner, while I thought you were giving it to me too. Now, all of that—”
“You dare call me—”
“All of that,” I rage at his interruption, “dear husband, was burned to fucking ashes the moment I found you in bed with my best friend. Those ashes flew in the goddamn wind when I discovered it was going on for so long behind my back. And no, it doesn’t hurt my ego to give you what you want. I simply don’t fucking want to, because you dare fucking blackmail me with the divorce.”
“Listen to me, you little bitch. I will get what I am owed!” he seethes. “If our divorce is not enough incentive, I will hit you where you hurt the most—your family. The Camoras do it for a living, as you well know, and I will not shy away from treating you like one of our customers who doesn’t pay their debts.”
“Owed? You truly are delusional. I gave you what I did out of the goodness of my black little heart. There was no deal set in stone, no contract, not even a goddamn promise. A quid pro quo while it suited me. Give me the divorce and leave this marriage with your ego intact. And don’t you fucking dare threaten my family.”
The phone shatters into dozens of pieces when I hurl it at the ground. I don’t even think I hung up, but fuck him! How dare he threaten my family!
I stomp over the scraps of glass and metal and slam my block heels over and over until the shards resemble gravel. When I step away, that smoldering flame inside me has calmed back down, but Bernard’s words still linger. He doesn’t have the guts to go after my family. Nothing but empty words.
Fuck, I hate that he gets to me like this. I’ve been trying really damn hard in the last six months to deny my instincts when it comes to him, but if he keeps this up, I will risk it all to get satisfaction. And it would be so damn sweet.
Getting divorced before I turned twenty-nine wasn’t on my bucket list, but it sure fucking is now. There’s shy of four months left until October. He better make me a free woman by then, or I might just start a war.
I take one slow, deep breath in, allowing it to fill me with an ounce of calm before I go into the store. I rescue my sim card, just in case it still works, and head inside through the back entrance of my stepmother’s jewelry store. Well, technically it’s the family’s shop, but she’s the master jeweler. She and dad have something going on this afternoon, and she asked me to look after the place until closing time at four.
I don’t usually do this, so hopefully I still remember how to work the register and talk to strangers. Customer service isn’t really my thing.
“Scarlet, is that you?” she calls out from down the corridor.
“Hey Carmen!” I greet her as I walk into the front of the store that shines with precious metals and stones locked behind wood-framed, tempered glass displays.
Willow is already busying herself by wiping down some jewelry cases.
“Hi honey! Thank God you’re here. I’m starving!” Her eyes sparkle when she notices the paper bag in my hand.
“And here I was, thinking you’re happy to see me,” I say, chuckling.
“Of course I am!” The curly-haired woman wraps her arm around me, rubbing my shoulder as she guides me toward the office at the back. “Because you brought food.”
“I’ll remember that.” I shake my head, smacking her hand.
“Before I forget...” I stop, turning back before the door closes. “Willow, before you leave, can you take a broom to the...slight mess at the back?”
The blonde woman raises an eyebrow. “Slight mess?”
“I dropped my phone.”
That eyebrow stays perfectly raised, even as she nods silently.
“Everything okay?” Carmen asks as we walk down the corridor and into the office.
“Peachy.”
“Scarlet . . .”
“Bernard called. I wish Dad would have never taught me to restrain myself. If logic doesn’t touch Bernard, why should I be guided by it?” I roll my eyes, taking a seat in the padded chair behind the small dining table Carmen has in here, and drop our lunches onto it.
