Page 24 of Fair Trade

Yet he gave me this team with impossible expectations. Ones I have to abide by in order to recover what I’ve lost, the one thing his trust is keeping over my head.

I’m brought back to the present when Luisa takes a seat across from me, crossing her legs slowly. I’m sure she’s just getting comfortable, but I can’t help but feel like she’s already fucking with me. I move my mouse to wake up my computer in an attempt to look like I’m at ease but quickly abandon that planonce I realize it’s protected with a password that I have yet to be given.

“Need a minute?” Luisa asks sweetly.

Oh yeah, she’s definitely fucking with me.

“Actually, no. Let’s get right to it.” I point at the two of us. “Is this going to be a problem moving forward? I know we didn’t end on the best of terms when we last saw one another, but I’m hoping we can put our differences aside for the sake of our working relationship.”

She nods emphatically. “Of course. Accusing someone of extortion is an honest mistake. In your world, I assume. Not mine.” I open my mouth to interrupt, but she carries on, feigning seriousness. “But moving forward, I’ll be sure to keep our communication open and honest to prevent any potential misunderstandings.”

I sigh deeply. “Luisa, look. I owe you an apology.” She looks me over cautiously as I speak. “I jumped to a conclusion much too quickly and hurt you in the process, and for that, I am sorry.”

She narrows her eyes slightly. “Thank you for the apology. That’s very… big of you.”

Try as I might, I can’t hold back the smirk that overtakes my face.

Yes, Angel. You know very well how big I am.

She realizes a moment too late how that sounded, and I can see her reinforcing those walls she put up the moment she walked out on me a few days ago.

She picks up her oversized bag and hikes it over her shoulder. “Like I was saying, it’s all water under the bridge. In fact…” She moves closer to my desk while pulling out a couple of bulky printouts. Wait, are those magazines? “I got you a gift for your first day on the job.”

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Vanity Fair. GQ. The New Yorker.

Each magazine lands on my desk with a deafening thump.

The kicker? I quickly recognize that Stonehaven Media owns all of these publications.

“If that’s all, I’ll be heading to the all-staff meeting. Good luck.”

I’m stuck staring at the images of her on every cover, only pulling my focus away when she’s stepping through the doorway.

“Hold on, Luisa…”

“Oh, don’t worry. I even signed them for you, boss. See you around.” The look of satisfaction on her face has me diving into the first magazine, pawing my way through the pages to her article to see what she wrote.

I have to reread it a few times to let it finally sink in.

Check fucking mate.

I roughly run a palm over my face, processing what occurred.

She wrote the last words I said to her here in this very office earlier this week. Right before she called me the devil.

The woman is brilliant, I’ll give her that.

I should feel ashamed. Beg for forgiveness. Maybe even quit.

But I’m not going to do that.

Because Luisa just declared war.

Not with what she wrote.

But by drawing the little angel wings beside her name like she did the morning after we fucked.