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Her kitchen was cheerful and cozy, but she did not like to cook. She would order takeout or eat if the mood hit her. She came and went as she pleased and had no one to report to. It might be lonely for some, but it was Nirvana for her.
She loved being on her own and made no apology for it. Picking up her glass, she took a sip, her mind going back to the meeting this morning and the man who had sat at the head of the table.
Deacon Manchester possessed a raw sexuality that had been potent. Seeing him in the flesh had given her a jolt. He looked rough; even wearing that expensive suit did not hide the fact that he was intimidating.
She had read that he was also ruthless in his business dealings. There had been no talk of unfair business ethics, but she had read that people would quiver with fear whenever he set out to take over a company. Right now, it looks like he was just investing and not completely taking over the place.
She knew that his acquisition team would be coming in starting tomorrow, but she would not allow them to interfere with her work. She was the chief editor, and her job was to decide what gets published or goes into the rejected pile.
She was not in charge of the finances or the other aspects of the company and just wanted to be left alone to run her department. She had written up some suggestions on how to get Gallagher's into the twenty-first century with a lean towards using social media to get the word out there and included it in her detailed report.
Whether or not they take her suggestions would be up to them. She just wanted to know that she still had the power to do what she had been doing for years. Taking another sip of the wine, she reached for the manuscript, and before long, she was absorbed in the words.
*****
Deacon strode over open the treated glass that separated his bedroom from the balcony and stepped outside to inhale the clean and crisp spring air. The view from here was spectacular. He lived in a gated community with the rushing water of the stream in the wooded area dotted with trees and flowers, making for a charming ambiance.
He had left Sandra's place after a bout of passionate sex but had refused her invitation to spend the night. He was getting tired of these meaningless physical relationships. Not that he was looking for anything long-term; that was entirely out of the question.
He had been made a fool of by a woman he thought was someone he could trust. Drawing on the cigar, he squinted his eyes as the smoke filtered upwards. What killed him the most was the loss of the child.
He was thirty-five and needed an heir and had been cheated out of it. Janice had played him the entire time they were married, and he wondered if he was somewhat at fault. He had been busy building his company; at first, she had told him she understood.
"Darling, I am so proud of you." She had gushed. "You are so talented and brilliant, and I will be supportive."
He had believed her. She pretended to be the loving, supportive wife and perfect hostess. He hated entertaining, but that was necessary in his line of work.
She had thrived on that sort of thing, and he had watched indulgently as she charmed their guests. He had also thought nothing of it when she flirted with the men. She was beautiful and articulate, and men were drawn to her.
He had felt a sense of pride that other men were looking at her. He bought her expensive things, jewels, clothes, and a brand-new car and gave her anything she wanted. When he first heard the rumors of her cheating, he had ignored it, of course.
He often traveled, but she would wait for him with wine and candles whenever he returned and give herself to him without reservation. But he had been fooled. While he was working hard to build a life for them, she was flaunting her body all over town. She had not denied it when he finally confronted her with what he had heard.
"You are never here!" She had screamed. "I am lonely; what do you expect me to do?"
"I expect you to keep your thighs closed until I return. Is that too much to ask?"
"I need people. I am not like you, Deacon; you don't need anyone. Not even me."
"You are my damn wife, and I expect you to act accordingly." He had thundered. "I will not be made a fool of, is that clear?"
At that point, he had wondered if he loved her. Yes, he had been charmed by her, but that had started to fade as the years drifted.
He told himself that he was working hard and traveling because he wanted to build his company, but whenever he was away, he hardly missed her and would call out of a sense of duty. He had married her on impulse without thinking about it and regretted it over time.
They had started to drift apart, and after that, they stopped sharing a bedroom. He could not stomach her infidelities, and even though he had stayed faithful to her, whatever he felt for her had diminished.
He had buried himself in his work; whenever they were required to attend a function, they would do so as husband and wife. They would play the part, but it would be all over as soon as they returned home. She would go to her suite, and he would go to his.
One night, after an aborted meeting with some shareholders, he had returned home to find her lying in his bed, wearing nothing but a pair of sheer lace panties. "Get the hell out." He had told her coldly. "I am not in the mood for your games."
"I want us to try and make our marriage work. I am sorry, Deacon, and I am asking you for another chance."
"What you will be getting is divorce papers." He told her grimly.
Her eyes had widened at that. "You cannot divorce me."
"Watch me. The good thing about it is that I had the presence of mind to have you sign a prenup. Now get out of my room before I throw you out. Find one of those assholes you allow to use that body of yours. I am done."
