Page 28 of Fair Trade

The door clicks shut a second before I crumple into my chair.

twelve

I may have wonthat round, but at what cost?

Aside from the raging hard-on I had to hide with an open stadium map pamphlet.

She’s embedding herself under my skin.

Making a home where she’s not welcome.

As much as I love to spark the fire in her, I know it’s a fruitless game to play.

Because I’m meant to be alone. As I’ve always been.

And once I’ve completed the terms of my grandfather’s will, I’ll be gone, and the days of pushing Luisa Álvarez’s buttons will be a faint memory.

Or so I tell myself.

Every night when I dream of her.

thirteen

I’ve done a spectacularjob of ignoring my new boss.

I mean, I’ve emailed him an unhealthy number of times in the last two weeks in regard to the deals I have in the pipeline, but aside from that, I’ve been able to steer clear of the angel of darkness.

That is, until I walk into a meeting I scheduled with my assistant general managers and find him sitting at the head of the conference table.

I swallow a shocked gasp and move to the seat beside him as if this was planned ahead of time, nodding in his direction without making eye contact. I ignore his displeased “and good morning to you, too,” and as he types at a furious pace on his laptop, I keep my eyes trained on the door.

I need to be on my A game today.

The rest of the team files in, and I remember why I was dreading this meeting long before I realized Nick would be chaperoning it.

Mark Webber, James Ashton, and Richard Pembroke walk in, offering their hearty hellos, while I try to remind my nether regions that I’m here to inform my team of some unpopular shakeups, not to ogle Nick, who looks incredible in a gray suit.

“Good morning, gentlemen. Thanks for coming. I’ve provided some coffee and tea on the table by the entrance, and please help yourselves to the pastries.”

Mark and James make a beeline for the muffins while Richard takes the seat across from me. He forgoes any refreshments, instead opting to lean back in his chair, studying me.

He’s closer to Arthur’s age, having been the general manager of another team for almost forty years. I don’t know why he agreed to come out of retirement to be an AGM here, but the way he’s looking at me now makes me feel like I’m an inconsequential steppingstone on his path to taking back my office.

I try for small talk. “No coffee for you this morning, Richard?”

He offers a practiced smile, one that comes after many years of being in front of the camera as the general manager of one of the biggest baseball teams on the West Coast. “Finished my second cup before the sun was up, kid.”

Nick’s loud typing stops abruptly, and it takes everything in me to act like I don’t notice. Just how I’m acting like Richard calling me “kid” when I’m his boss isn’t unprofessional or downright inappropriate.

Richard turns toward Nick, offering him a much more sincere smile. “Didn’t know you’d be sitting in on the meeting today, Nick. Something big happening that I don’t know about?” He looks in my direction, as if I’m his lowly intern who has somehow mixed up his calendar.

Nick speaks, pulling Richard’s attention away from me. “It’s Mr. Stonehaven. And you are?”

My eyes almost bug out of my face.

I may be wishing I had a voodoo doll of Richard, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that this man’s name is synonymous with baseball stardom since the team he previously managed has the most consecutive World Series wins in the last decade.

Richard’s cheeks redden as he pitifully attempts to play Nick’s words off as a joke. “Oh, c’mon. I know you inherited the team from your grandfather, but a good businessman would never enter a meeting not knowing the name of everyone around the table, am I right?”