That half-smile on his face turned into a look of distaste. “Is that totally necessary?”
“Yes. It is. Be sure she’s there at our next session.”
Chapter17
A Tempest
The next morning,I pulled into the driveway of the house I’d been avoiding off and on for weeks. Revving the engine of the Jaguar F one more time before shutting off the engine, I took in a deep breath. The ride through the hills surrounding LA always settled my nerves and helped me put all the stress of the day behind me. Making the drive in one of my sports cars added an adrenaline rush that seemed to clear any accumulated mind shit as well. I hadn’t realized how much I missed that drive.
Spending almost two months in my office complex apartment had distanced me from Scarlet and my home. I had made this trip, though, to do what Reggie had asked me to do, even though I didn’t look forward to it. I entered the house filled with a dreaded anticipation.
I couldn’t imagine a life with Scarlet anymore. The constant demands for money. Dealing with her sycophantic friends. One failed venture after another. I couldn’t go on, not after that one night in which I realized she didn’t even arouse me anymore.
I moved through the house that had been my dream house when I started building my business. The sounds of Scarlet speaking to someone drifted down the stairs to the entryway of the three-level home. The entryway was a small split-level foyer.
One set of stairs led to the lower level and a home gym with equipment rivaling the best fitness clubs, two showers, and a hallway to the garage. There was also an exit to the expansive backyard, which had a pool, a huge grill, and an area perfect for the best Fourth of July picnics.
I took the steps up to the mid-level slowly. My feet didn’t make a sound as my military training kicked in. I moved up as if I stalked the streets of an Iraqi village. Scarlet didn’t pose the threat that I experienced in Iraq, but it would be foolish to think of her as non-threatening.
She was at the kitchen counter wearing a red V-necked minidress that left very little to the imagination. It showed off her dangerous cleavage, athletic hips, and perfect ass, which had lured many a man, including me, into her arms.
“No. Thank you. I’ll take care of it. It was so nice of you to call.” She flashed me a smile, but it didn’t make it to her eyes. Her eyes flashed with anger. She hung up, and the smile slipped away, replaced by a smirk.
“Hello, Scarlet.”
“You’ve decided to come home?”
“I stopped by to talk.” While I had spent some time at the house after starting my sessions with Regina, thing had devolved and I have limited myself to staying on the weekends.
“I don’t really have time to talk. I’m going out.” She moved to where I could see her entire ensemble, including the matching Louboutin heels which she loved so much. She struck a pose which I’m sure she meant to arouse me. I felt nothing.
“This is important. I know I told you I wanted a divorce.”
“Yes. You asked for one. Though I don’t understand why.” She crossed her arms over her chest. That hid nothing. It just perked them up and emphasized her cleavage.
I kept my distance and considered my next words.
“My therapist…”
“Your sex therapist.”
“Yes. My therapist wants to meet with both of us in her office for one of my sessions.” I could see the change in her with each word.
“Oh. I don’t need any sex therapy. My body is working just fine.” She stomped closer and poked me in the chest with one slender finger. “It’s yours that needs fixing.”
The poke didn’t budge me. Her one-hundred-thirty pounds on her five foot ten-inch body didn’t have the strength to budge my two-hundred-five pound solid frame. The words, though, sliced pretty deep, and it puzzled me why. Of course, I didn’t puzzle them at the moment. I reacted instead.
“She still wants to see us. Together.” Anger simmered in my tone.
“Why should I go? You’re just going to spite me. You don’t want to pay me the fifty million you’d owe me for divorcing me. It’s all about your company and your next big deal. It always has been.”
“That’s not true, Scarlet.” Give me a two-hundred pound thug or militant with a gun in his hands, and I could handle them just fine. Or even a group of executives trying to play hardball during a negotiation. Those were easy. Throw a gorgeous model at me, though, and I struggled to get a hold.
“A year ago, you couldn’t keep your hands off me. Now you won’t even live in the same house.”
“Scarlet. It’s more than the sex…”
“No. I think it’s all about the sex. Why would you see a sex therapist instead of a marriage counselor? It doesn’t make any sense.”
