Excerpt from The Gabardi Wife

 Here's an excerpt from The Gabardi Wife. Holly's husband has come to her after she sent him papers for a divorce. Not expecting him to follow her home to New Zealand, she is stunned when he turns up. They arrange a meeting to discuss what Holly hopes is his agreeing to the divorce. Read on..

HOLLY STEPPED THROUGH the doors of the busy High Street bar and acknowledged that inside she was a mess.

The kind of mess that no amount of positive thinking or mantra-repeating was going to put a dent in.

She glanced around the interior, searching for Alexi, hoping he’d decided not to show, and was on his way back to London and away from her. Forever.

But no. Her spirits slumped as she spotted him at a corner table, his face in profile as he scrolled through his phone.

Of course, he wasn’t going to give up. Gabardis never gave up. And Alexi especially because she knew that he had a point to prove and apparently, she was part of that proving.

What the point was, she couldn’t be sure. He wasn’t a cruel man. He wasn’t a bastard. She’d never have fallen in love with him if he was and she sure as heck would never have married him in that picturesque chapel on that European island where royalty, so it was claimed, had said their vows.

But something had changed him and getting him out of her life for good was the only way she had of hanging onto any thread of sanity.

Of course, she breathed in, there was so much more to it than that.

She warily threaded her way through the tables to the corner, and he glanced up as she approached, and rose to his feet.

She took the seat opposite and was about to take her bag from her shoulder when she hesitated. There was no need to get too comfortable because she wasn’t planning to be here for long.

She clasped her hands on the table in front of her, Alexi took his seat, and she took stock of herself. A bit jittery, nerves clanging wildly. Heart pounding a bit too fast. In other words, pretty good going so far.

She looked across at him. His dark gaze rested on her, unreadable and strangely relaxed.

Her resolve faltered.

Alexi Gabardi was like no other man she had ever met. Supremely confident, supremely skilled—her chest squeezed tight at the graphic memory of his hands gliding over her naked body—and supremely made. His body was sleek, hard-packed muscle, and his face, with its taut cheekbones, beautifully sculpted mouth and dark-chocolate eyes, was portrait-worthy. She’d sketched it enough herself to know.

Now that the shock of seeing him on her doorstep had faded, she realised she may have underestimated what this encounter with him could do.

Chemistry, she acknowledged as apprehension pooled in her stomach, still sat between them, seemed to even smother the air around them. She imagined alarm bells were clanging as a warning.

She said, “So what did you need to talk to me about, Alexi?”

His gaze studied her, shifting only when the waiter approached the table with a bottle and two glasses.

Alexi gave his thanks, indicated he’d pour, and when the waiter had left, he said, “Have you eaten?”

“Yes.” She gestured to the menu in front of them. “But you go ahead and order for yourself if you like.”

He reached for the bottle and half-filled her glass. “I’m not hungry,” he said. “At least, not yet.”

He turned to his own glass and said, “You know, of course, why I’m here.”

His eyes gleamed with a disturbing light, as he set the bottle back down on the table.  

Yes, she knew why he was here. Much as she’d rather his end of it had been handled from London, she knew.

She nodded. “You have obviously received the papers.”

He gestured for her to try the wine. “The timing was fortuitous.” He took a sip from his own glass. “An opportunity to combine a new business venture here in New Zealand with a personal visit to see my wife.”

His wife. But not for very much longer. She said, “You didn’t have to waste your time by seeing me personally but since you have, I can answer any questions you might have. Did you bring the papers with you?”

He took another sip of his wine. “I brought them to New Zealand, yes. Right now, they’re back in my suite.” He set the glass down. “In the trash where they belong.”

The air around her went abruptly still as she stared at him, as what he said began to burn a hole in her expectation. “They are what?” she demanded.

He leant forward in his chair. “It is a joke, Holly?” His voice was low. “These divorce papers you want signed? Is this some kind of joke?”

“Of course it’s not a joke. Why would it be a joke?” The unease she’d felt began to morph into full blown panic. “Our marriage was as good as over when I left.  I need—I want the divorce to go through.”

“You need it?” An intrigued smile curved his mouth. “Or do you want it?”

“Whether I need it or want it, it makes no difference. I would like you to sign those papers. You know what the alternative is, that we have to wait another three years then it will be enough for one of us to sign the papers to petition for the divorce and it will be granted.” She raised her shoulders. “You know all this, Alexi.”

He said, “Then we wait.”

She stared at him. “We do what?”

“We wait.” Her gestured to her un-touched glass. “Try the wine. It brings back memories.”

“Memories,” she repeated. “Memories of what, exactly?” She was about to explode. With frustration, with disbelief, and most of all with the disastrous knowledge that Alexi, sitting mere touching distance away from her, had lost none of what had made her fall in love with him.

“What memories?” she repeated. “Your devotion to work and forgetting you have a wife at home? Your obsession with proving that you’re the only one who can run Gabardi Media?” She took a sip, set the glass down, and then looked at him consideringly. “Oh my gosh, you’re right. This does bring back memories. Perhaps I should drink the whole bottle and see what other unsatisfying memories it drags up.”

 

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