The Divorce Club Read Online Free Page A

sorry, I can't help you," I whisper,
uneasiness creeping over me as he nods.
    "I will sue you." He says it so composed I'm
not sure I've heard right.
    "Pardon me?"
    "Sexism is a crime in our politically correct
times. You know what'll happen to your reputation once the media
get hold of this?" He grins like a child in a candy shop. The first
pangs of anger bubble inside me.
    "You wouldn't," I hiss.
    He smirks. "Oh, I would. Believe me, I would.
I'm desperate enough to do it."
    I grit my teeth, wishing I could tell him
that the word desperate doesn't even do him justice. The phone
rings, jerking me out of my thoughts. Still looking at him, I pick
up the receiver.
    There's music playing in the background―a
fast bass beat accompanies one of the Black Eyed Peas' rap. After
listening for a second or two, I realize someone's shouting,
anxious to be heard through the noise.
    "Babe, can you hear me?" Mel's voice seems to
be coming from Alaska.
    I smile, thankful for the distraction. "How's
the party? Got any doggy bags?"
    "She brings you food?" the guy asks.
    "I meant goody bags," I hiss.
    "What?" Mel yells into my ear.
    Shouting, I repeat myself as I glare at the
guy still sitting opposite from me. Social etiquette doesn't seem
to be his strong point because he can't even be bothered to turn
away and pretend he's not listening.
    "It's fab," Mel shouts. "You should see the
fit lads in here, and everyone's wearing Armani ."
    The guy snorts. "Who in their right mind
defines attractiveness by the suit one's wearing? No wonder once
the suit's off, so is the relationship."
    "And you're the expert on that field." I roll
my eyes like Sam always does.
    "Darling, I can smell Armani from a
mile," Mel says.
    My visitor shuffles in his seat, an unnerving
smirk planted on his lips. "If she smells the Armani it
makes one wonder what the guy smells, doesn't it?"
    "Not really." I point at the receiver.
"Sorry, do you mind? I have an important conversation here."
    He holds up his hands in mock awe. "Of
course. I wouldn't want to keep you from saving the world." He
turns, muttering under his breath, "Or the whales."
    I bite my lip, struggling to keep a snarky
remark to myself and focus my attention on Mel who's shouting,
"Hey, are you still there? I can't hear a darn thing."
    "Then turn down the salsa."
    "It's pop."
    "Whatever. About the goody bags―"
    "I didn't forget about my best friend," Mel
says. "They'll be delivered to your door first thing in the
morning."
    Cradling the receiver between my shoulder
blade and my cheekbone, I clap my hands. "What's inside? I'd love
some perfume because Sam's used it all up."
    Mel laughs. "I won't tell, but you'll love
it."
    "How I wish I worked in PR."
    "So you can party day and night, and die of
an enlarged liver from all the alcohol?" My visitor, completely
forgotten to me for a brief moment, snorts. "Now there's a hefty
goal."
    "Not everyone wants to be a surgeon," I hiss.
"What did you say you do?"
    He turns to face me, his eyes beaming again.
"I'm a business exec."
    Now I'm the one letting out a snort. "So
you're Robin Hood, except that you rob the poor to give back to the
rich. How altruistic."
    "Says the one who robs children of their
youth so they can make pretty handbags." He points at my
second-hand Louis Vuitton .
    My temper flares up, leaving a boiling
feeling in the pit of my stomach. " Louis Vuitton don't
engage in child labor. Besides, it was a gift."
    The guy nods. "Ah, a gift. That certainly
makes it more acceptable."
    Heat scorches my cheeks. I've no idea why I'm
arguing with this man. He's not even that good-looking, but I know
I'm lying to myself. He's well-dressed, groomed, probably almost as
educated as a NASA astronaut―and makes me all defensive. But, after
dealing with Greg for fifteen years, I can certainly deal with
Mister Business Exec.
    "Can you call me back once you get home?" I
ask Mel as I keep my gaze fixed on the guy in front of me.
    Mel agrees and I hang up, smiling at