Page 37 of Fair Trade (New York Monarchs #2)

thirty-three

I’m going to break his hand.

No. I’m going to break his hand and every finger that dared touch my beautiful wife.

I make no attempt to hide my ire.

“Oh, calm down. I was merely trying to welcome her into the family. She does carry our family name now, does she not?” He looks around me to Luisa. “My name is George Stonehaven, in case my boy has failed to fill you in.”

I move to block his view of her. “You do not speak to her, am I clear? Do not even look in her direction if you want to leave tonight on your own two feet.”

I feel her soft touch, and it helps ground me. My Angel rubs calming circles on my back, and it recedes a bit of the red covering my vision.

My father chides, “Oh, Nicholas, always one for the theatrics. Has any of the boarding school education I paid for not taught you how to act while out in society?”

I’m about to rip his head off with my bare hands when Luisa slips in front of me and places her hands on my cheeks, forcing me to look down at her.

My nostrils flare as I struggle to regulate my breathing, but I concede to my wife.

“That’s it, big guy. Focus on me, yeah?”

My shoulders drop marginally as her fingers scratch along my beard. My thoughts duel between wanting to fight and fuck.

“You trust me?” she whispers.

I don’t know what she has planned, but I nod.

Because I do trust her.

“This might be hard, but you’re going to let me handle this. Okay, husband?”

My body comes alive every time she teases me with my new title, but the way she says it now has me wanting to wrap her in my arms and leave this party in the dust.

“I don’t want you talking to him,” I argue.

“Well, tough shit. Because I got all dressed up tonight, and I’ll be damned if I have to go home before I even get the chance to send a picture of my dress to the girls’ group chat.”

I feel my lip wanting to lift, but I can’t manage it.

She raises up on her tiptoes and whispers in my ear. “My panties are already ruined, and it’s all your fault. Don’t let the rest of the outfit go to waste, Nick.”

I’m almost winded by her statement. Too stunned in the moment to act before she spins around and faces my father.

Fuck, my wife fights dirty.

“Okay, pal. This is how it’s going to go.” Her business persona has been activated.

“Pal? Who do you think you’re—”

“Don’t care,” Luisa talks over him. “What I do care about is you keeping your distance from us. If Nick wants a relationship with you, he’ll seek it out himself. No need to ambush him at a charity function. Did they not teach that at your expensive boarding school?”

Luisa steps closer to him, and my hand clenches with the need to pull her back from that vermin.

“I don’t know what my son has told you, but he has a debt that has yet to be settled. As soon as my attorneys figure out the holdup on my father’s will, he will be banging at my office door, begging for a meeting.”

“Nicholas Stonehaven begs for no one.” Her words crack through the room like a whip, and my father’s face drops into a scowl.

“You’ve been married for all of fifteen minutes, and you think you know him? You expect me to believe that you married him for love and not his money?”

Luisa must have eyes in the back of her head because she raises her hand, stopping me from plowing into the poor excuse for a man.

Instead, she leans forward and plucks the pocket square out of my father’s suit jacket. I don’t miss his slight flinch as she does.

“Ah, yes. Apparently my husband is loaded .” She uses the small piece of fabric to wipe at her engagement ring, shining it until it sparkles under the lights.

“And if you haven’t noticed, he decided to marry a Dominican woman who didn’t go to a fancy boarding school in Connecticut.

But I promise you, Harlem public schools taught me how to act right.

And, more importantly, how to handle bullies who are all bark and no bite.

So let this be a lesson to you.” She balls up the pocket square and shoves it back into its small opening.

“Fuck with me and mine, and you’ll find your balls in the same pocket as your tacky Gucci square.

” She taps over the spot where she placed the wrinkled fabric and turns toward me.

“Walk me to the bathroom, please? I need to wash my hands.”

Pride like I’ve never felt before fills my chest as my wife walks past me, hips swaying. “You coming or what, Stonehaven?”

I don’t even have to think twice.

“Anywhere with you.”