Queen of Greed

Chapter 8

"Luckily, we have provisions for that." Cole didn't sound too worried, which made me feel slightly better. "We'll push the divorce through one way or another, but I want you to be prepared. This is Lalisa Manoban. It could get ugly."

"Even though we don't have children and I don't want any of her assets?" The penthouse, the cars, the jet. Lisa could have it all, I just wanted out.

"The problem isn't the assets, Ms. Kim," Cole said. "It's you. She doesn't want to let you go, and unless you can convince her otherwise, it's going to be a long fight."

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"I'm so sorry, but Ms. Manoban is in meetings all day." Lisa's assistant, Martha, sounded only marginally apologetic. "However, I can take a message and have her-"

"It's an emergency." My fingers tightened around my bag strap. "I'd like to speak to my wife directly." I emphasized the second to last word. It didn't matter that she would be my ex-wife soon if I had my way; as long as we were married, I had certain perks, which should include seeing her without an assistant treating me like I was a vagrant who'd wandered in off the street.

Her eyes swept over me, probably taking in my lack of visible injuries and physical distress, "I understand, but I am afraid she's booked back to back. Like I said, I'm happy to take a message and have her call you back at her earliest convenience." She ripped a Post-It note off the pad on her desk. "Is this related to a social event or a home issue?"

My skin flushed. Normally, I wasn't a violent person, but I was hungry, tired, and irritated after my call with Cole. It took every ounce of willpower not to grab Martha's coffee and toss it in her smug, condescending face.

"Neither." I dropped my polite tone. "If Lisa is currently in a meeting, I can wait. I assume she has to eat lunch at some point, correct?"

Martha pursed her lips. "She has a lunch meeting at Le Bernardin. Ms. Kim, please, I must insist you-"

"What's going on?" A cold voice interrupted her mid-sentence. We both froze for a spilt second before our heads swiveled toward the now-open door to Lisa's office. The sun backlit her frame, and the width of her shoulders filled the doorway, making her look even more imposing than usual.

My throat dried, and the leather bag strap dug into my palm before I forcibly relaxed my grip.

"Mrs. Manoban!" Martha jumped from her chair. "Your call ended early. I was just telling Ms. Kim that you-"

"Repeat that." Lisa stepped into the main office. The shadows peeled away from her form, revealing a chiseled cheek-bones, stormy eyes, and a frown that could deter Satan himself.

She wasn't looking at me. Instead, she pinned her attention on Martha, who shrank beneath her ire. "I said I was telling Ms. Kim that-"

"Mrs. Manoban." The words were lethal in their quietness. "As in my wife. If she wants to see me, she sees me. Don't ever prevent her from doing so again or the only part of a New York office you'll see is the outside when I throw you out. Understand?"

Martha's face paled to the point of resembling chalk. "Yes, ma'am. I understand."

Vindication battled with sympathy for dominance. In the end, the latter won out.

"That was harsh," I said quietly as I followed Lisa into her office. She still hadn't looked at me.

"Not as harsh as she deserved." Instead of sitting, she leaned her back against her desk, the picture of cool confidence, but when her eyes finally met mine, the exhaustion in them tugged at my heart strings in a way that had me biting back my concern.