Divorce Me Once, Your Loss

Brianna

* * * One year later

“How do you like your cocktail, ma’am?” the cute waiter dressed only in brief shorts and a tight-as-hell tank top inquires.

I try not to react as I feel his gaze wash over my body draped only in a red two-piece bikini outfit.

“Just a gin and tonic would be lovely, thank you,” I reply.

I feel his breath in my ear when he says, “Coming right up, miss.”

Smiling to myself, I relax back on the lounging chair, basking in the Hawaii sun as the world around me shimmers and shines.

I always thought divorcing Nico would be the end of everything. I always thought of him as someone that was supposed to give my life some kind of meaning. But more than one year after our divorce and I am living the best life I could ever live.

Divorce from Nico isn’t nearly like what I envisioned.

For starters, it didn’t turn me to a flimsy no-name peasant I thought it would. Instead it gave me a different kind of confidence I never knew I had. It set me free to fly, and now I am the sole owner of a quickly rising beverage company. It made me see the man for what he really is – a cold-hearted unlovable man who could only afford to show affection to his red-haired mistress and my sister – and it also made me see my marriage for what it really was – a contracted sham.

So for the past one year, I’ve been building up my business while still traveling and exploring as much as I want to, with my best friend Aliyah and with some of the money Nico’s lawyer declared in my name.

What really threw me aback about my divorce is the mere suspicious fact that for some reason the press kept quiet over the whole thing and so far, I haven’t heard a squeak about it from any publicist which is as weird and off-putting as I think because for a man as famously dangerous as my ex-husband is, the press was never out of our business for long.

If anything, all they ever talked about was the life of the billionaire tycoon and his plain wife for a year.

Now, I was no longer plain old, Brianna Page. I could do whatever I want, wherever I pleased, however I liked. It was as if marrying and divorcing Nico was the confidence boost I needed. I no longer cowered under heated stares, or hid my body under big ass clothes, or shy away from the attention when it was thrown my way.

No, I trimmed my body as much as I wanted with enough hours at the gym and body therapy so much that now my curves and dips are enough to make any man’s head turn.

Instead of cowering, I lived as I wanted, bathed in attention and reveled in pleasure whenever I felt attention on my luscious body.

Yes, divorcing Nico was the therapy affirmation I needed in my life.

I just didn’t notice it earlier.

“I’m still surprised that man hasn’t worked up the courage to speak to you, yet,” Aliyah piques, smearing more sunscreen on her tanned body.

“Who?” I ask.

She gestures with her elbow to the right, and my eyes are immediately drawn to the muscular man sipping cocktail on our right, seriously eye-fucking me.

I flinch. “Could he be any more obvious?”

Aliyah shrugs, “I mean, if I were a dude and I saw that kind of body in front of me, I’m definitely gonna wanna hit.”

I poke her with a finger, “Nice try, Ali.”

“I’m serious,” she relaxes back on her chair, “Nico has no idea how much he lost by letting you go.”

I don’t want to think about Nico anymore than I want to remember the past but to an extent she is right. Nico has never seen me this way before, never seen me in anything remotely sexy during the one year we stayed married. I was always dressed in baggy outfits whenever he showed up to discuss something with me and it didn’t help that we lived apart too. He lived in one part of town with his nasty ass mother, his petite sister, a cousin and his mistress.

And I lived all alone on another part of town.

With no one, not even my father because he too had washed his hands off me immediately he signed the contract with Nico.

I tuned in back to what Aliyah was saying, “ . . . and he had the guts to force you to sign it. It was better you did that, I’m totally loving this new you and – hold up, here he comes,” she squeals.

I tilt my head just in time to see the man from earlier walking up to us, a determined flirty expression splayed across his handsome face.

“Act like you don’t see him,” Aliyah whispers.

“Might be too late,” I tell her, as the man’s gaze holds mine unwaveringly.

“Care for a drink?” he drawls as he settles himself on the lounging chair beside me.

“Most men introduce themselves first,” I reply in a sultry voice.

His eyes trail over my body, his appreciation evident on his features, “Danny,” he mutters, “Daniel Stone. Here on a two-day holiday and then I’ll be back to Jersey.”

I smile, “Funny, that’s where I live.”

He returns my smile with an appraising one, “Great,” then he slips his hand into the pocket of his beach shorts and provides a business card, “call me?”

I take the card and read the inscriptions on it. Daniel Stone, business tycoon.

What is it with me and the men in the business area?

I turn it over in my hand, “Daniel Stone huh?”

“Of Stone Empire. You heard of that?”

Frankly, who hasn’t?

“Okay Daniel Stone of Stone Empire,” I mock, “I’ll call you.”

“Good,” his eyes trail my body once more, “there’s a lot I’m willing to offer.”

Before I can think of any response, a voice beats me to it. A deep, mysterious baritone I could recognize anywhere.

“How about your head on a platter? Are you willing to offer that? Because that’s the only thing you’ll have to offer in the next five seconds.”

My head whips upwards, shock reverberating through my body and displaying on my features as I take in the sight of the person before me.

Nico Armani stands in front of me, all six foot seven, with a hard scowl on his face, glaring down at us like we are the reason for all the global warming.

“Who the fuck are you?” David retorts.

“No one of importance,” Nico shoots back, his eyes landing on mine and staying there, “Just her fucking husband.”