He kissed her forehead and smiled, indulgent. "What are you worried about? You're my real wife now."
Desiree's cheeks flushed pink, and she ducked her head, voice dropping to a murmur. "Conrad, I just realized we don't have any condoms at home…"
He blinked, then transferred me money without a second thought.
Same note as every other time.
This wasn't the first time.
Before, when he and his little lover were going at it in the middle of the night, one phone call was all it took to send me out to buy them.
He'd even made me put one on him with my own hands.
But now I'd made up my mind to divorce him.
Why should I still do a damn thing for him?
I ignored the transfer, grabbed my suitcase, and left.
By the next morning, every one of the distillery's partners was demanding to pull their money.
I picked up the phone and called to find out why.
The person on the other end hemmed and hawed, clearly uncomfortable. "Ms. Simmons, I'm sorry, this… You should really ask Mr. Graves about it."
I was shaking with anger. I threw on my coat and rushed to the distillery, hoping there was still something I could salvage.
The moment I walked into the office, I saw Conrad going through the files on my desk.