2
I ended up at my best friend Cassie’s apartment.
My phone buzzed relentlessly on the coffee table.
“Not gonna get that?” Cassie asked, tilting her head.
I threw back a shot of tequila, the burn in my throat a welcome distraction. With a sigh, I switched my phone
off completely.
“What kind of trashy cigarettes did you buy?” I grumbled, my voice already raspy. “One puff and my throat’s
wrecked.”
Cassie just laughed, playfully tapping the colorful pack in her hand. “They look pretty, don’t they?”
She held it up for me to see, and with a few casual questions, she had the whole story out of me. Not that I
was trying to hide it. There was one question that had been eating me alive.
“Cassie, why won’t Parker touch me?”
“Maybe… he’s not into women?”
I shook my head. Parker had a girlfriend in high school, and since then, countless men and women had
thrown themselves at him, only to be met with his signature ice–cold rejection.
Then, a thought sparked in my mind.
My eyes narrowed. “I bet he’s saving himself for my perfect older sister, the one who ran off to Europe.”
I’d heard the rumors before–that Parker had always been in love with the gentle, quiet heiress of the Sinclair
family. Now, it was all clicking into place.
This marriage… I was just a stand–in.
My sister was the one who was supposed to marry Parker. But she’d dumped him for her supposed “soulma-
te,” some artist she followed to another continent.
Parker, ever the perfect gentleman, had never denied me anything in our six months of marriage–except for that one crucial thing. And every time he used his hands on me, watching my pleasure with that detached, controlled expression… there was never any desire in his eyes. He looked like a spectator at his own life.
Did he find me… disgusting?
The thought hit me like a physical blow, and the fragile dam holding back my hurt broke.
I slammed my glass down on the table with a loud crack,
“That’s it, I’ve decided!”
Cassie jumped. “Decided what?”
3/9
19:11
19.12
Chapter 1
“I’m divorcing him!”
A man who was all looks and no action was useless, no matter how handsome. Especially one who was still hung up on someone else. I was Nora Sinclair. I didn’t need him.
“Okay, okay, easy there. No more drinking,” Cassie said, clearly thinking I was just drunk and emotional. She dragged me off to take a shower.
She’d just gotten a fresh manicure, and being a restless sleeper, she left a few angry red scratches on my neck by morning.
The moment I turned my phone on, it exploded with notifications. All from Parker.
When I got back to our villa, I was surprised to find him home. The air was thick with the smell of stale smo- ke, the ashtray on the coffee table overflowing with cigarette butts.
He looked up, his sharp features cutting a striking figure even in the morning light.
“You’re back.” His voice was a gravelly whisper.
Then his eyes landed on the marks on my neck, and his pupils contracted violently. The light in his gaze instantly went out, replaced by a chilling darkness.
I hadn’t slept well, and the combination of smoke and alcohol had left my throat raw. I was in no mood for a dramatic confrontation.
Just as he was about to speak, I raised a hand, my voice raspy. “I’m exhausted from last night. I’m going ups- tairs.”
I wasn’t trying to be cruel. I was just done. I was really going to divorce him.
A marriage without passion is a marriage without happiness.
