LITMIR.BIZ

      CONTENTS

       Cover

       Introduction

       Title Page

       PROLOGUE

       CHAPTER ONE

       CHAPTER TWO

       CHAPTER THREE

       CHAPTER FOUR

       CHAPTER FIVE

       CHAPTER SIX

       CHAPTER SEVEN

       CHAPTER EIGHT

       CHAPTER NINE

       CHAPTER TEN

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

       CHAPTER TWELVE

       CHAPTER THIRTEEN

       CHAPTER FOURTEEN

       EPILOGUE

       Copyright

       PROLOGUE

      ‘DOES your husband have a temper?’

      ‘He’s Spanish,’ Isla answered, thinking of that gorgeous, volatile Latin temperament, of Sav’s arms waving in exasperation as he tried to ram home a point, tripping over the words as his mother tongue took over. ‘So of course he’s got a temper.’ Isla gave a nervous smile but it faded as she saw the solicitor’s eyebrow lift a good inch. ‘But he’s never hit me,’ she broke in immediately, annoyed at the connotation. ‘Sav would never hit me—never,’ she said again for effect, but the solicitor remained unmoved.

      ‘He doesn’t have to hit you,’ Karin said knowingly. ‘Abuse isn’t always physical.’

      ‘I’m not abused,’ Isla said firmly.

      ‘But your husband does have a temper?’

      ‘Actually, having said that, he doesn’t have a temper any more.’ Isla let out a low, mirthless laugh. ‘We’ve moved well past the stand-up row stage.’

      ‘And where are you now, Isla?’ Karin asked, waiting patiently as Isla took her time to respond, wondering how she could sum up in a short sentence the abyss their marriage had fallen into, the long lonely days rattling around a house that was too big, too quiet, followed by even longer, lonely nights as they lay in bed, firmly entrenched on their own sides and pretending to be asleep.

      ‘Where are you now, Isla?’ Karin asked again, only more gently this time, watching as her client’s tired, reddened eyes slowly lifted.

      ‘Sitting in a solicitor’s office, working out my options.’

      The silence dragged on, Isla immersed in her own thoughts and Karin waiting for her client to elaborate further. Usually an expert at summing up people, to Karin there was something about Isla Ramirez that didn’t add up. When she’d walked nervously into her office two weeks ago Karin had been positive that after the initial brief consultation she’d never see her again. Sure almost that the rather fragile-looking blonde with the perfectly manicured nails and Pilate-toned thighs had arrived at the solicitor’s office on the back of a marital row. The affection in her voice when she’d spoken about her husband hadn’t fitted the usual mould of a woman about to leave her husband, and when Karin had actually gone through the procedures for a divorce, she had been sure that Isla Ramirez would be out of her office never to be seen again, yet here she was two weeks later, a touch thinner, a touch more exhausted perhaps,

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