preferred California for a winter haven – something chic in Malibu. He saw himself living large on half the money – living better, really – a pool, properly divorced, some good therapy, a few nubile girlfriends. And no fucking photos. It was an escape route, a fresh start at almost sixty.
Why the hell not? Let Edward make his own way. No family firm. No handouts. Penny would get the house and plenty for her needs.
He made his decision. Let them all rant and rave, he was going to drop out – in a very moneyed, sun-filled manner.
‘The photos are of me. The marriage is over, Edward. You need to stand on your own feet. I’m going to call your mother tonight – or at least her lawyers – and offer a quick settlement.’
‘But where will you go?’ Edward yelped. ‘What will happen to me ?’
‘You’re an adult. Make your own decisions,’ he said. God, how had he raised this snivelling wimp that wanted his hand held, even now? ‘You should have thought about it before dumping on the mad girl. I’m going to leave the state. Nobody really knows me outside of New York. I will retire and go to Florida. And find myself, in peace.’
Damn, if it didn’t sound noble, put like that . . . For a moment his mood lightened a little. Perhaps that vicious little tramp had done him a favour, after all.
Dina Kane smiled to herself. The photos were already erased from the memory card, the camera dumped from a car somewhere off the New Jersey turnpike. She’d bought a prepaid phone and called Edward from that – it was in a dumpster two minutes after their conversation.
Now, maybe, it was all over. Now, at last, she could have some peace.
Sleeping with Shelby had been disgusting. But, every second, she’d kept in mind the grinning, mocking face of his son, the way he’d threatened to pass her around his friends, like a piece of meat, called her mom the ‘town slut’, turned sex into rape, shoving himself deeper, even as she struggled to push him off her. Edward Johnson: a privileged yob who stood for every man who’d ever leered at, drooled over or assaulted her – the guards who’d felt her up in Don Angelo’s gatehouse, the boss who’d let her be abused, as long as it kept the customers happy.
Dina no longer believed in love. Revenge was a much more achievable goal. She wasn’t going to send those pictures anywhere. Just let them sweat; let them all sweat – cheating, lying Shelby; Penny, who raised that pig of a son; and, most of all, Edward, who treated her like a joke.
I just want to level the field .
Shelby would be divorced – his political dreams over. She didn’t want a rich, arrogant bastard like him anywhere near the halls of power.
Penny Johnson . . . Dina shrugged to herself. A woman who associated with these assholes was not her problem. There were lots of good divorce lawyers out there . . . And she was better off out of that fake marriage, anyway.
And Edward, the arrogant college boy who’d used her while she slaved just to make the rent. If there was no college for Dina, there would be none for him, either.
Edward Johnson screwed her. Now she’d screwed him back. It was time to move on, to put this behind her.
And Dina truly believed it would be that easy.
Chapter Six
Dina wanted a new start. With the profit from the sale of her studio, she had enough for a small nest egg and a deposit on a cute one-bedroom apartment. It was east of Fifth, but that was OK. Dina liked the neighbourhood, still home to artists, singers, poverty-stricken film-makers and their grim documentaries. The West Village was way too expensive; bankers and movie stars lived there now. But the East Village had its vintage clothing dens, its middle-eastern restaurants and its comic-book stores.
The fashionista in Dina loved it. It was up and coming – like she wanted to be.
The one-bedroom was another fixer-upper. She would insert a mezzanine platform – the ceilings were high – and sell it in
Why the hell not? Let Edward make his own way. No family firm. No handouts. Penny would get the house and plenty for her needs.
He made his decision. Let them all rant and rave, he was going to drop out – in a very moneyed, sun-filled manner.
‘The photos are of me. The marriage is over, Edward. You need to stand on your own feet. I’m going to call your mother tonight – or at least her lawyers – and offer a quick settlement.’
‘But where will you go?’ Edward yelped. ‘What will happen to me ?’
‘You’re an adult. Make your own decisions,’ he said. God, how had he raised this snivelling wimp that wanted his hand held, even now? ‘You should have thought about it before dumping on the mad girl. I’m going to leave the state. Nobody really knows me outside of New York. I will retire and go to Florida. And find myself, in peace.’
Damn, if it didn’t sound noble, put like that . . . For a moment his mood lightened a little. Perhaps that vicious little tramp had done him a favour, after all.
Dina Kane smiled to herself. The photos were already erased from the memory card, the camera dumped from a car somewhere off the New Jersey turnpike. She’d bought a prepaid phone and called Edward from that – it was in a dumpster two minutes after their conversation.
Now, maybe, it was all over. Now, at last, she could have some peace.
Sleeping with Shelby had been disgusting. But, every second, she’d kept in mind the grinning, mocking face of his son, the way he’d threatened to pass her around his friends, like a piece of meat, called her mom the ‘town slut’, turned sex into rape, shoving himself deeper, even as she struggled to push him off her. Edward Johnson: a privileged yob who stood for every man who’d ever leered at, drooled over or assaulted her – the guards who’d felt her up in Don Angelo’s gatehouse, the boss who’d let her be abused, as long as it kept the customers happy.
Dina no longer believed in love. Revenge was a much more achievable goal. She wasn’t going to send those pictures anywhere. Just let them sweat; let them all sweat – cheating, lying Shelby; Penny, who raised that pig of a son; and, most of all, Edward, who treated her like a joke.
I just want to level the field .
Shelby would be divorced – his political dreams over. She didn’t want a rich, arrogant bastard like him anywhere near the halls of power.
Penny Johnson . . . Dina shrugged to herself. A woman who associated with these assholes was not her problem. There were lots of good divorce lawyers out there . . . And she was better off out of that fake marriage, anyway.
And Edward, the arrogant college boy who’d used her while she slaved just to make the rent. If there was no college for Dina, there would be none for him, either.
Edward Johnson screwed her. Now she’d screwed him back. It was time to move on, to put this behind her.
And Dina truly believed it would be that easy.
Chapter Six
Dina wanted a new start. With the profit from the sale of her studio, she had enough for a small nest egg and a deposit on a cute one-bedroom apartment. It was east of Fifth, but that was OK. Dina liked the neighbourhood, still home to artists, singers, poverty-stricken film-makers and their grim documentaries. The West Village was way too expensive; bankers and movie stars lived there now. But the East Village had its vintage clothing dens, its middle-eastern restaurants and its comic-book stores.
The fashionista in Dina loved it. It was up and coming – like she wanted to be.
The one-bedroom was another fixer-upper. She would insert a mezzanine platform – the ceilings were high – and sell it in
Similar Books
