I paused, confused as to what kind of package that was and who’d sent it over. Regardless, I gestured toward my desk. He walked into the office and dropped it on the table.
The courier revealed a neat piece of paper. “Sign here, please.”
I picked up my pen and scribbled down my signature.
“Thank you.” He gave a curt nod. “Have a nice day.”
I leaned back in my chair, staring at the small box on my table. When he closed the door behind him, I opened it, curious to find out what was inside. I picked an envelope out of the box, and inside was a document.
It took a second to realize what kind of document that was.
Divorce papers.
My heart skipped a beat, then another, when I read a clause stating that Adrik was set to remarry.
Our contract had just barely ended, and he was already getting married to another woman? A mix of pain and jealousy washed over me. Had I lost him? Did he love this new woman? Had he slept with her?
The mere thought of another woman in his bed made my face twist into a frown. I hadn’t realized how much I cared about him until now. I’d thought I’d healed. I’d thought I’d moved on and that nothing about him would bother me anymore.
I’d been wrong.
As I read through the divorce papers, I could barely breathe, and a strange heat was spreading across my body. My heart was racing in my heaving chest, a thousand thoughts tugging at my mind.
For the rest of the day, I was completely useless. I couldn’t work—couldn’t focus on anything other than the fact that Adrik Tarasov was set to marry another woman.
Mom was getting married soon, and now Adrik too? What the hell was happening? Didn’t I deserve to be happy as well?
In order to clear my head, I decided to stop by a bar on my way home.
I pushed through the doors and walked into the dimly lit space washed in amber lights. The air was filled with the low hum of conversations and the scent of smoke and spilled alcohol.
Heads turned in my direction as my heels clicked softly against the floor. Those slow, curious glances lingered a second too long, but I ignored them, heading straight to the bar.
I sat on a stool and placed my elbows on the counter. “Whisky,” I said to the bartender, my voice steady. “Neat.”
He nodded and walked away.
I buried my face in my palms, then rubbed my tired eyes. I just wanted the voices in my head to shut the fuck up.
“Here you go.” The bartender slid my drink over to me.
I lifted the small rocks glass, the sharp scent of whiskey hitting me before I touched my lips. In a single shot, I drained the damn thing. The burn stung my eyes, making my throat tighten.
I set the empty glass back on the counter and clenched my jaw. “Another one!”
“Midlife crisis?” someone asked me.
I turned to the man sitting on the stool next to me. “Yeah, something like that.”
He raised his glass. “Welcome to the club.”
I let out a soft scoff.
“I’m Oliver, by the way,” he introduced himself.
I hesitated. “Emika.”
“You have beautiful eyes, Emika,” he said, his gaze locked on me. “Anyone ever tell you that?”
