Page 12 of Fair Trade (New York Monarchs #2)

ten

I’m being a dick.

I know I am. But I can’t help it. Something about being wrong about her makes me feel uncomfortable in my own skin.

Running Stonehaven Media is simple.

The empire I created has me living the dream. Last year, I secured the biggest deal of the century, acquiring the world’s most famous publications as my own. Afterward, I decided to ditch the States and move back to London for the first time in over twenty years.

Thinking it might feel more like home than my mansion in the burbs did.

But I was met with a lot of the same.

Gold diggers? Opportunists? Fathers who lack human decency?

I knew how to handle the lot of them.

All a walk in the park.

But Luisa is proving to be different from what I was expecting.

And I hate being caught off guard.

I smiled as I shot off that email yesterday, expecting a snarky response to my jab about her prior tardiness when we first met.

So imagine my disappointment when she was… pleasant.

Again, proving me wrong.

I also hate being wrong.

Which is why I sent off that asshole response before I could stop myself. I instantly regretted it, and I knew I would have to apologize to her in person today.

That was the plan when I invited her to this meeting, but a little gremlin in my mind took over momentarily, sending me down that immature spiral.

But I’m not immature.

This isn’t like me at all.

I respect those who work for me, especially women.

It’s how my mother raised me.

And if she were around today to see how I’ve been conducting myself lately, she’d be gravely disappointed.

And would probably whack the back of my head with a chancleta.

Only a handful of people know that I was raised by a Dominican single mother. One who was brilliant and destined to be one of the greatest barristers the UK had ever seen while also being the best mother to me and my little sister.

Unfortunately, she never saw Daisy grow past her first year, and at the age of eleven, I made a promise to be there for my sister in every way humanly possible.

We were sent to a boarding school in Connecticut shortly after my mother’s death, and I have remained stateside for the most part for these last two decades.

I was the only kid with a funny accent. And for years I tried to speak like an American.

Adapt to their mannerisms and sayings. I learned to code-switch and tamp down my English ways when I found it to be beneficial.

But my accent never really went away, and I’m glad it didn’t, because it’s a part of me I never want to forget.

Like when I used to make fun of my mother’s English due to her heavy Dominican accent.

Hearing her try to pronounce her vowels correctly will forever remain some of my fondest memories.

Memories I clung to in order to survive the cruel and colorless world that was left for me once her existence was no longer.

Navigating being motherless while also being my baby sister’s only family, her protector, is a childhood experience I don’t wish upon anyone.

Skipping lunches with friends so I could play with her at the daycare side of the school.

Convincing our nannies to speak to us in their native Spanish, even though they were explicitly told not to do so, in hopes that we could feel closer to our late mother.

And sharing lonely holidays together, me promising to make something of myself so we’d never have to spend another Thanksgiving home alone.

Luckily, Daisy has grown into a beautiful and kind woman. Someone who wouldn’t hesitate to give the shirt off her back to someone in need.

A woman who, at times, can be too trusting.

Which is why I’m fiercely protective of her.

Because my mother would have been.

I am many things, but being immature is most definitely not one of them.

Emotionally stunted? Now that I could make a case for if I call and schedule an appointment with my therapist again.

It’s been a few years, but I’m sure she’s expecting my call any day now.

I walk down the hall that leads to my new office.

I want to get settled and have a cup of coffee before my meeting with Luisa in order to get my head right.

But those plans are out the window the second I turn the corner and spot Luisa standing by my assistant’s desk, laughing. She’s dressed in a bright pink blazer, matching dress pants, a fitted black top, and those “fuck me” heels she wore the night she was mine.

Dammit. There it is again. My heart hammering in my chest the second I lay eyes on her.

I thought the other day was a fluke. The shock of seeing the mysterious woman I had a one-night stand with, who ran out on me when I was just getting started with her.

Ridiculous thought, really, since I don’t make a habit of bedding a woman twice. I’ve made that mistake before and have found leaked articles about personal information carelessly shared by yours truly during post-sex pillow talk.

I tell myself that I’m hung up on the chase. That it’s been a while since I’ve spent the night in a woman’s company, and she came along at the right time.

But I’m not stupid.

I can smell an excuse from a mile away, and I currently reek of them.

It’s just an attraction. A crush at best. Most likely my body’s natural reaction to being near the woman who gave me the best sex of my life.

So yeah, I’ll cut my racing heart some slack and maybe skip my coffee this morning. I’m sure it’ll do the trick.

“Good morning. I see you’ve made introductions already.”

My assistant, Marla, squeals. I’ve never heard a sixty-year-old woman squeal, but I guess meeting Luisa will do that to the best of us. “She’s such a doll, Nick. And funny! Did you know she was funny? She has me tearing up, and it isn’t even eight thirty.”

Luisa is leaning on the desk, looking much too relaxed for my liking. As if she’s the one in control.

Fuck. Is she?

She makes a show of looking down at her watch and sighing dramatically. “Cutting it close there, boss.”

I’m ten minutes early to our meeting, but clearly, she was even earlier, making me feel like I’m running late.

I move past her and open my office door. “That just means we have more time for our meeting. Lucky us.” I gesture for her to step inside my office. “Hold my calls, Marla.”

She chuckles. “No one even has this number yet, Nick.”

God. Am I being awkward? I feel like I’m trying to play it cool but can’t be sure if it’s actually working.

Luisa snickers as she walks past me.

Yep. The cool shtick is not fooling anyone.

I shake my head and make my way toward my desk.

It’s actually my first time sitting here.

When I visited earlier in the week, it still felt like it was my grandfather’s office.

I asked Marla to hire a designer to redecorate and get rid of all the furniture.

But his energy still lingers. As if he enjoys watching me play along with his ridiculous requests.

A part of me thought that there’d be a long, handwritten explanation for his absence in my life. Or, at the very least, his reasonings for gifting me this team.

But there was none of that. Just more terms and conditions.

It’s no bother to me. For all I care, he and my father were the same breed of men, and nothing I aspire to be.

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 plan once 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.

An illicit thought flashes through my mind, leaving as quickly as it arrived, making me equal parts furious and aroused.

I think I just lost my first fight with my future wife.