Married to the Mafia Boss I Slept With (Champagne Venom)

PAIGE

I'm officially divorced, broke, and homeless.

I suppose I could go sleep in my storage unit if I was willing to get rid of some of my stuff. The few possessions I decided to take with me are now stuffed in that overpriced black hole. I'm not even sure it was worth it to keep them, but the thought of leaving everything I own behind was unbearable.

I've lost too much already.

But sleeping in a storage unit is even more depressing than my current situation. So instead, I sit on this park bench, my butt and fingers going numb with cold, as night slowly falls around me. I'm staring at the pizzeria across the street. The Crimson Orchid, it's called, according to the sign looming above the red awning. The smell of freshly baked mozzarella wafts over to me like a tease. My stomach growls in response.

But after the extortion at the storage facility, I've got sixty dollars left to my name, and I'm not about to spend a third of that money on a pizza. No matter how tantalizing it smells.

Honestly, it's probably not even that good. I've learned a lot about things that are too good to be true in the last few days. When your marriage turns out to be a sham and your husband turns out to be a crook, you really stop taking things at face value.

I cringe as I feel myself spiraling again. It's easy to get lost in the circuit of nasty thoughts that has held me captive since I came home to find out that Anthony was gone, along with all my money, my job, and my trust in men.

Thoughts like, This is your fault.

Thoughts like, You should have seen this coming.

Thoughts like, You deserve every single bit of what's happening to you.

I also keep replaying the words of the mortgage officer who came to evict me from my house. My mama always told me that a woman oughta keep a 'Break in Case of Emergency' fund. It don't matter how charming a man may seem-you gotta look out for you.

That lesson came a little too late to be useful, unfortunately. This is an emergency alright-a red alert, five-chili-pepper, all-hands-on-deck emergency. But there's not much I can do to save myself. I've got no fund, and the only true friend I ever had is dead.

I touch the pendant I wear around my neck at all times. I wish you were here, Clara, I murmur. I wish it wasn't my fault that you're gone.

Shaking my head, I refocus my attention on the meager list of positives I've got going for me.

One, I found a new job today. Crazy enough, the salary is actually fairly decent for a personal assistant.

Two, I managed to find a new apartment not too far from the office building, though the lease doesn't start for another three days.

Three is... well, no, there isn't really