"Don't make it hard on yourself. Sign the papers and get out."
The words flew over my head as I concentrated on the cold look on Arthur's eyes. The same eyes that used to look at me with stars in them, held nothing but contempt.
I looked around our house—my family's house, the little stair at the beginning of the hallway where we wordlessly started taking off our outside shoes, a routine we formed overtime. The hallway walls that were lined with paintings, an evidence of our shared passion for art. The cream colored couch that we picked, Arthur insisted that it blended well with the dark coffee color the walls were painted and looking at it now, he was right. Better cream than the horrendous blue I wanted to go for.
The large display shelf that stood close to the archway that led to the bedrooms for his antique collections, the pictures on little wooden stands that jutted out of the walls, photos of Arthur signing contracts,Arthur at business meetings, Arthur at vacations…. Arthur, Arthur, Arthur.
"You've packed your bags, yes?" I asked him as I eyed the divorce papers.
A scoff fell from his lips, the type that precedes his biting mockery.
"You are really naive," he came closer to me.
The smell of his cologne, the same one I restock for him every month, washed over me. A sense of familiarity. I never could second-guess Arthur, being accustomed to how he smells. This time, it turns my stomach, leaving a nauseous feeling behind.
He took a strand of my hair between his fingers and sniffed it, his eyes pinned on me.
"I've packed your bags, love."
Dread settled in my stomach, I could feel a headache coming.
"What did you say?" I asked, my voice a scared whisper.
"I know you heard me. Let me elaborate. You signed some documents for me, remember that night? In the tub? Guarantee documents?" He came closer, allowing me to feel his warmth.
"You were glowing that night, love. I'd taken good care of you," he chuckled, his breath hit my face, a mixture of bourbon and mint.
"You stole MY house?"
He shook his head.
"Not just your house baby. Your stocks too. Everything, love, everything." He tutted at me.
He stepped back and picked up the papers and the pen. With a gentle touch that contradicted his actions, he guided the pen into one hand and the papers into the other one.
Right now I feel cold, so cold. Maybe when this boils over, when the cold feeling goes away, I may come up with tears and anger and sadness and maybe I'll scream but now, I feel cold.
"Arthur," I pleaded, my eyes searching his own in a bid to appeal to him.
He laughed and shook his head.
"Sign."
With shaky fingers I signed the papers, knowing that I'd lost everything in that moment.
A gasp fell from my lips as my chest met his, he'd pulled me into his arms and gazed down at me with lust….and disgust. His lips claimed mine in a bruising kiss, the kind that would have had my toes curling and my insides tingling but all I feel is the urgent need to get away from him, so he doesn't see me—the mess he made.
With a weak shove I pushed the chuckling man away and wiped my lips while his laughter mocked me.
"I've changed my mind. Get out, your bags will be thrown out behind you."
•••
"Boss, are you ready?" Isaac snapped me out of my thoughts.
I looked at him, clad in a silky silver shirt with three buttons open and a black dress pants, Isaac could own any room with his charisma.
"Mmm," I stood up and grabbed my fur coat.
It's hot but my fur coat stays on.
Isaac walked around me and grabbed my bag from the ground, where I placed it beside my chair. He placed it on my desk and adjusted the coat on my shoulder.
"You are good to go, boss lady," he spoke after he was done and stepped aside.
The sound of my heels clicking on the tilled floor brought a sense of control to me—I own this place. You'll hear me before you see me, you will try to measure my mood with the intensity of the sounds my heels make, you will stay anxious until I am out of earshot.
My black halter dress made me feel especially powerful today. There's something about black, a black dress, bold enough to entice, it's classy.
"The creditors?" I asked mid walk.
"We will handle them tomorrow," Isaac said.
We walked into my elevator and the gradual descent gave me time to gather my thoughts and by the time we were in the garage, I had made up my mind to join in on the fun tomorrow.
Isaac opened the door of my waiting car, and held out his hand which I used to hoist myself onto the wrangler.
Placing my bag beside my feet, he shut the door and walked around, to the driver's side and started the car.
My whiskey sat pretty in the cupholder, just the way I like it.
The company vanished gradually as we drove out of the premises, it's imposing infrastructure standing tall. Mine.
My mind drifted a little, as I drank the whiskey in one gulp.
One day closer.