Page 13 of Fair Trade (New York Monarchs #2)

eleven

I shouldn’t have done that.

Doesn’t mean it didn’t feel good.

Especially while watching him try to avoid eye contact with me as he spoke to the front office staff.

Meanwhile I relaxed back in my chair, hands clasped over my stomach, looking like I didn’t have a care in the world.

It gave me a good vantage point. Allowed me to see how the women from other departments reacted to Nick, and it was clear that they were hanging on his every word.

I pushed down the stupid feelings of possessiveness that surged inside me. Because Nick was mine in the same way that yearly taxes were. Something you have to bear and play nicely with in order to not end up in prison.

But as I head into one of the smaller conference rooms, preparing to meet with my three assistant general managers and pitching coach Luke Weston, I start to feel my nerves creeping up.

Could I do this job on paper? Yes. In my sleep.

But stepping out and doing it now that the season has begun? It feels like a much different ball game.

Thank God Daisy has coordinated our schedules so we can have daily lunches and coffee breaks to help me release some of the tension I carry.

Walking down the hallways with a bunch of old, rich white men in suits will do that to a girl.

Lucky me, the person I’m meeting with now is nothing like that.

Luke arrives first, which is how I planned it, since I need to run something by him before the AGMs arrive. I probably should have allotted more time for this conversation, but I figured the element of surprise might work to my advantage.

It also gives me less time to chicken out.

The fact that Luke Weston has come out of hiding and is gracing the Monarchs with his presence is nothing short of a miracle.

He left his professional baseball career behind at the top of his game—after winning the World Series for his team.

The tragedy that followed shortly after was to blame, and I honestly wouldn’t have been surprised if he decided to never walk back into the limelight.

Which is why I was shocked when Arthur told me that Weston had signed on to be our pitching coach. I have no idea how he managed that, but once I discovered he was on staff, I wanted to see if I could make my first big professional team shuffle of the season.

“álvarez.” He nods as he takes the seat next to mine.

I’m here in a professional manner, but I’d be a bald-faced liar if I said that Luke Weston wasn’t an attractive man. At the height of his career, he looked more like a Hollywood movie star than a starting pitcher of the Texas Stars. But now, after years away, he’s taken on a new look.

His boy-next-door vibe has been switched out for wilderness hunk. I wouldn’t be surprised if his workout routine included splitting wood with an axe or carrying logs over his shoulder while he builds a cabin with his bare hands.

His glacial blue eyes have a way of pulling you in. And his unkempt beard and wavy brown hair keep you intrigued about the man behind the scruff.

But his obvious beauty truly does nothing for me. Seems like I’ve been cursed to be aroused solely by men who rule the underworld.

“Luke, I’ve told you to call me Luisa a million times.” I smile.

His lips twitch slightly. “Sorry, ma’am.”

I raise an unamused brow. “Oh, I’ll report you to HR if you ever call me ma’am again. I’m younger than you. That keeps me safely out of ma’am territory.”

He shakes his head, ignoring my banter. “Did I get the meeting time wrong?” He looks around the room, reminding me that it’s time to make him an offer I pray he won’t refuse.

“Actually, I wanted to chat with you before the rest of the guys arrived.” He nods slowly. “You see, when you were hired, I had no idea you’d be interested in working in the industry, much less on the field.”

His shoulders straighten slightly. “I wasn’t.”

Oh, right. I forgot how little Luke likes to talk. I’m going to have to do it for the both of us.

“Look, Luke, I’m going to give it to you straight—”

“You’re firing me.”

“What? No! Of course not. Shit. Am I doing this wrong? Let me start over.” I take a deep breath as Luke’s unwavering stare threatens to unnerve me.

“I want to offer you a promotion. To manager. I think you being a pitching coach is great, but I believe that managing the coaches on the field and being in full control of our game would be an even better use of your skill set.”

He’s already shaking his head. “I can be a coach, but manager? Too much media attention, and I’m no one’s puppet.”

I put my hands up in a placating manner.

“Yes, I already thought about this, but look at what’s already happening.

Ever since you arrived at spring training, the reporters have been all over you.

Unfortunately, this industry comes with media vultures.

Trust me, I know.” His eyes soften slightly.

I’m sure he’s seen some of the media chatter questioning if I was a PR hire or actually qualified to do this job.

“But we have no control over their interest in you or me. And they are not the reason we’re in this field.

We do it because we love the game and we know how to make our team better. ”

He sighs as he shifts back in his seat. It might as well scream “I’m considering it,” so I continue.

“Look, you’ll still technically be a coach. Like the mega coach. Main coach in charge. Head honcho—”

“álvarez, I know what a manager is.”

“Right. Exactly. So you know that you’d be in charge of who plays, what strategies we should make mid-game, and how to direct the other coaches to best position their players.

You were always a cerebral player on the field.

You saw things that most couldn’t. No one could have predicted your former team would win the World Series 4-0, and yet they got it done. Because of you.” I point at his chest.

His hand rubs his beard, and I force myself to stay silent and let him process what I’m offering.

If he agrees, he’ll be the youngest manager in the history of major league baseball at the age of thirty-one. This will open the floodgates to media attention, and he will be expected to do more interviews.

His face will be synonymous with the New York Monarchs like Joe Torre was for the Yankees.

After a minute of silence, he asks, “What about DiSorbo?”

DiSorbo is our current manager and, frankly, someone who should not be allowed in front of a mic because the mouth on that man will get us fined after every game. “DiSorbo is out. I can get an interim pitching coach while you establish yourself as manager.”

His brows rise. “You’re ruthless, álvarez.”

I lean forward, steepling my hands on the desk. “So, what do you say, Skipper?”

His face scrunches, and for a moment I think I’ve blown it.

“If anyone dares call me Skipper, they’re getting benched for the entire season. I may be the new manager, but I will not take on the manager pet name when I’m in the dugout or elsewhere. I’ll always go by Coach.”

Did he—did he accept the job? Did I actually get this done during the week after opening day?

I don’t dare breathe. “So do we have a deal, Coach ?”

He matches my posture over the desk as he replies. “Looks like we do, Luisa .”

Thank God I have a big office with actual walls instead of frosted glass. If not, I wouldn’t have the liberty of dancing barefoot in my office, celebrating the win I had with Coach Weston today.

The official announcement went live an hour ago, and the sports outlets have run wild with the news.

I was sure to set up Coach’s first interview for next week, giving the media frenzy a few days to simmer down so they don’t hound him too badly, although it’ll be a miracle if they get more than yes or no answers from him.

I’m so caught up in the moment, shaking my ass to my Rihanna playlist, that I don’t notice the massive form leaning against my open office doorframe until I turn around and let out a very unimpressive squeak.

Nick doesn’t try to hide his amusement one bit.

“Oh, don’t mind me. I was looking to debrief with my GM about a major change in staffing that was announced to the media before we had a chance to discuss it in detail.

But by all means, continue dancing to ‘Bitch Better Have My Money.’” He waves me on.

I slap my cell phone screen a few times to pause the song, my go-to when thinking about trades and potential deals, and catch my breath while staring at my office intruder.

“Have you heard of knocking?”

The side of his mouth kicks up slightly. “I did.”

“Oh. Well, I didn’t hear you.”

He gives me a look that screams “Obviously.”

I shake my head. “I did give you a heads-up, to be fair.”

“Ah, yes.” He pulls out his phone and reads. “Promoting Luke Weston to manager. DiSorbo is fired. Figuring out interim pitching coach now. Let me know if you have any questions. Luisa.”

I wave at his phone, my gesture communicating “Well, there you go.”

He straightens and closes the door after fully stepping into my office. Being enclosed in here now makes my office feel a whole lot smaller than it was moments ago.

“You see, Luisa. That’s just not going to work for me.” He walks up to my desk and starts picking up the small frames and knickknacks I have displayed across it. He smirks down at the picture I have of me sitting on my dad’s lap while at a baseball game, my two front teeth missing. “Cute.”

I snatch the frame out of his hand and place it face down on my desk. “I’m sorry, Mr. Stonehaven, but you’re going to have to be a bit more detailed about what doesn’t work for you.”

He makes a noise in the back of his throat.

“Mr. Stonehaven. How… formal.” He makes his way around my desk, and I have to focus on keeping my breaths even and my expression unbothered.

“I do think we’re past the formality, given our…

familiarity, dare I say?” He stops when we’re standing toe to toe, with my head tilted up to keep eye contact.

I don’t know what his play is here, but if he thinks he can undermine my authority by reminding me of our tumble in the sheets, he has something else coming to him.

“Sorry, I’m not sure of what you’re getting at.

Because it would be beneath you to not only backpedal on an apology that seemed genuine but also speak of matters that are outside of the scope of our professional positions. Don’t you think, Mr. Stonehaven?”

The fucker has the audacity to full-on grin in my face. And for a weak moment, I consider either slapping or kissing it off his face.

“My apologies, Luisa, but I was referring to the fact that you are now one of my sister’s closest friends.

You’re all she talks about lately, while leaving me in the dust. I’m still waiting for an invite to one of your lunch dates, by the way.

” He fake pouts. “So I’m not exactly sure what you were alluding to.

” He places his hands in his pockets, and the smooth motion makes me want to throttle him.

He chuckles before his voice turns playful.

“I can feel the violence vibrating off your skin, Luisa. Do we need to have an HR training on interpersonal conflicts?”

I cross my arms under my chest, accidentally lifting my breasts in the process. His eyes drift down for a split second, long enough for me to notice that he looked, and now I’m the one sporting a grin. “No need. I have no problem keeping my hands to myself, sir .”

I think I hear a faint growl before he takes a large step back, running one of his hands down his navy silk tie. “Splendid. But I didn’t come here to discuss HR matters.”

I rest my ass on the desk. “Then why did you come, sir ?” I taunt again. And now I swear he’s the one who wants to have his hands around my neck. The visual, shockingly, feels much more appealing than I’d ever admit.

“Cut the shit, Angel—I mean Luisa.” I stiffen at his slip of the tongue.

It now feels like it’s been decades since he called me that in bed.

“You can’t make unilateral decisions about the hierarchy of the team I own and not include me in the decision-making process.

” I stand to defend myself, but he powers on.

“I’m not here to stifle your authority. I’ve caught up quickly on what your role is here in the organization, and I respect it.

But as the team owner and the person in charge of running the business, I would expect the same respect to be given in return. ”

I deflate slightly, because he’s right.

I ran everything by Arthur when it came to signing on the players.

Because while who we hire is up to me, he was still my boss and needed to be in the loop with the finances to make sure that we were abiding by our spending pot and budget.

Giving Coach Weston a promotion also meant tripling his pay, which is most definitely something I would have discussed with my boss had he not been… Nick.

If I’m going to preach about being taken seriously in my role as GM, I’m also going to have to wear my big girl panties and do the things that a responsible GM would do. Which includes maintaining open communication with my team owner.

I nod. “You’re right.” He gives me a look of disbelief, and I roll my eyes. “I’m woman enough to admit when I’m wrong. And in this instance, I should have kept you abreast of my intentions. It won’t happen again.”

“Hmm, nice apology.” He looks lost in thought for a moment. “Although I could have done without the word ‘abreast.’”

I snort and cover my nose immediately, embarrassed by the noise that came out of my face.

His face lights up as he moves toward the door. “Look at us. Getting along. Looks like hell has frozen over.”

It takes a second, but once I get the devil reference, I scowl. “Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves.”

He grabs the doorknob and begins to close it behind himself before he stops abruptly, his face morphing into one of stern professionalism while his eyes blaze with heat.

“Oh, and Luisa?”

I grit my teeth, “Yes?”

“Call me sir again and see what happens.”

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