Convenience

Part 17

Beatrice found him studying her with a mixture of inquisition and ire. He, like her was wearing jeans. He'd teamed it with a navy polo shirt, and though casual, he still managed to look like he'd walked off a Parisian catwalk. His hair was shorter than she remembered from six weeks ago, and this time there was some stubble on his cheeks and jaw line.

Keep it formal, she reminded herself. He was a husband on paper. She wondered how many wives after five years of marriage still addressed their husbands by their surname. "Now, Mr Cardoso, why are you here?" She asked before her brain scrambled at the sight of him. He was an impressive man. Her eyes confirmed the conclusions she'd reached the last time they'd met.

The five years had treated him well. He had broadened across the shoulders. His face had weathered to reflect possibly the stresses and strains of the last five years, but on him they gave him gravitas. He looked like a man well used to getting his way, a man who knew what he wanted, and went about getting it with the minimum of fuss.

Obviously this divorce was throwing up too many curve balls, for she doubted he would have taken the time to come out here. Not when he could have sent a lackey. Or another legal letter.

David was not pleased to hear her call him Mr Cardoso in that tone of voice. He was pretty sure she had done it deliberately. She might not have spent the last five years with him. But she clearly knew which buttons to press. David managed to stifle the scowl before it emerged.

This was not a battle he intended to loose.

"You didn't reply to my letter." David replied equally cool. He took stock of his wife. Yes, beautiful, he acknowledged, confirming his conclusion from the last meeting. Yes, different to the woman he remembered marrying. This one was self-possessed. Very cool.

"I did not think it warranted a reply." Beatrice told him sanguinely, as if replying or not in her case, to a legal letter that determined your future relationship status was nothing earth shattering. With her tone deliberately cool she reminded him, "You were informing me that you had instructed your lawyers to deal with me." Beatrice saw that her tone annoyed him. She did not care. "The gist was that you planned to clean me out. Or to be fair to you," though why she thought she ought to afford him that courtesy she did not know, "you intended to take half of my assets." She upped the frost in her voice.

Her eyes anything but welcoming or warm as she pointed out that she knew what the implications would be. The letter she had signed for had caused her to sink to her knees when she had read it. The shock was palpable. He was planning on taking her for half her assets. Why? He'd struck her as driven, when they had last met. But not vindictive or spiteful. So why come after her assets?

Her little company would probably be loose change in his one day trading. Why would he want half of it? Was it because she hadn't given him a share when she had sold her grandfather's house and moved here? But really, why go after this small property?

David stepped closer, his eyes narrowed in speculation. "Exactly. Most normal people would have replied to a letter making that threat." David stated firmly having no concerns in mentioning the word threat. He watched her reaction.

She looked angry and somewhat disappointed in him. That was puzzling.

Beatrice knew that having this discussion was pointless. If he wanted her business, half of it, then nothing she did would prevent it. She was small fry in his world. He had far more resources at hand to deal with anything she threw at him. And she knew she would loose. He could engage the best people around to take on anyone she managed to persuade to represent her.

"And said what, exactly?" Beatrice picked up the box of materials she had put down and headed for her office in one of the converted sheds. It had been demoralising reading the crisp, detailed, clearly articulated letter from his legal team and reaching the conclusion that the man you married was petty and greedy. Her small business would be nothing but a grain of sand in his empire. Yet he was willing to wrench it from her. To make a point?

David tracked after her. Which had him rifling a hand through his hair. This woman was running rings round him!