Page 45 of Fair Trade (New York Monarchs #2)

forty-one

The November chill settles into my bones, but I don’t dare take my eyes off the field.

Julian Vega, the first baseman from Miami who’s playing for Team Dominican Republic, swings his bat, and the sound of the ball making contact is heard throughout the entire stadium.

We all watch in awe as the ball is sent flying far into the stands, earning a grand slam and securing a win for the team.

“You’re going to catch a cold, woman.” A voice I would know anywhere comes up behind me. A large suit jacket is placed over my shoulders, enveloping me in a scent that is uniquely Nick.

“There are heaters in here,” I grumble, though I still pull the jacket closer around me.

“Yes, but you’re standing on the open side of the suite ledge, forcing me to come to your rescue.

Being chivalrous is quite taxing when your wife refuses to wear a jacket.

Now everyone can see my hard nipples through my dark shirt.

I have no choice but to hold you close. You know, for decency and body heat purposes. ”

“Of course.” I smile as his muscular arms wrap around me from behind.

“You smell good.” He nuzzles my neck.

“I smell like you,” I snicker.

“Not exactly. But if you’d let me drag you up to my office, I could rectify that.”

The smile stays on my face as I shake my head. “You’re incorrigible.”

“What I am is in need of a fix, and my wife is my drug of choice.”

He’s kept true to his promise of keeping his dick away from me during our sexual encounters, and I really believe it must be some kind of sexual mental warfare.

Because each day I find myself closer to giving in.

Telling Nick that this, us, feels real. And, more terrifyingly, that I want to be his wife forever.

Wife.

That damn word Nick keeps throwing around as if it’s permanent. And the jump my heart makes at the misguided hope that it could be.

I keep replaying the terms in my head. We stay married for a year, and then we quietly divorce.

Divorce.

I recoil at the thought of having to once again sign a document in which my true feelings aren’t reflected.

I may have agreed to marry Nick under false pretenses, but those circumstances have since changed.

I have fallen for my husband.

I don’t know if it happened during our mornings together, when we drink coffee, during evenings walks with Delilah, or midday visits to his office where he gives Marla a long lunch so he can eat me out on his desk.

Or maybe it happened while we handed out candy to trick-or-treaters. He bought my mother and aunts high-end Hocus Pocus costumes, turning them into the real Sanderson sisters, something they have yet to shut up about.

He got devil horns and an angel halo for us. He wore the feathery halo all night, since he claimed it was only appropriate he dressed as something different on Halloween night.

Or maybe it happened on the nights I stayed up late, responding to his silly emails. Before this marriage even started.

Nick didn’t marry me because he loved me. He did it so he could be in compliance with a will that’s supposed to give him some mysterious asset. Something so important it was worth marrying a woman he never dated in order to secure.

Which makes me doubt what he’s capable of doing once he has it and no longer needs me.

“Where’d you go?”

I blink repeatedly when I realize that Nick is standing before me, blocking my view of the celebrating players.

“Um, nowhere. Just thinking that I want that guy down there,” I stammer.

Nick looks down at the field and back at me. “I’m hoping, for his sake, that you mean you want to sign him to the Monarchs.”

I slap his chest playfully, but he keeps it in place.

“Talk to me, Luisa.” I open my mouth, but he interrupts. “The truth. Please.”

I have no idea what I was about to say, but he’s right, because it would have been some kind of half truth.

His eyes soften as he seemingly holds his breath, and I can’t find it in me to hide much longer.

“Nick.” I drop my head to his chest, unable to look him in the eye.

“You’re scaring me, Angel.”

I huff. “Good. ’Cause I’m scared too.”

His hands slip to the nape of my neck, his fingers tangling in my loose waves. “What are you scared of?” he asks slowly.

A part of me has a feeling he already knows.

“Nick,” I whisper.

“Say it. Please.” He kisses the top of my head.

I gather the courage to look up and almost lose my breath at the pleading look on his face. It gives me the final sense of security I need. “I—”

“Hey, am I still riding with you guys—oh shit, am I interrupting? Is this something newlyweds do? Are there not enough hours in a day for you two to keep it in your pants at work?” Daisy bemoans.

“Shit.”

“Luisa, stay with me. What were you about to—”

“We’re gonna be late. Mateo is gonna kill us if we ruin his surprise.

I’m sure their engagement photographer doesn’t want to capture us running into his apartment as he’s down on one knee.

” I step out of his hold. “But I’m keeping your jacket.

Come on, husband.” I tug on his arm, but he’s unmovable.

He tosses his keys at his sister. “Wait in the car, Daisy. We’ll be right there.”

She smiles mischievously. “If you’re not down in five minutes, I’m driving myself. And I won’t apologize for all the curbs I assault.” She dashes out of the suite doorway.

“Nick, seriously. We have to go.”

His lips flatten. “Fine.” He releases a deep breath, then slides his hands over my cheeks. “But this conversation isn’t over.”

I release my own breath, the one caught in my chest. “I know.”

He places a kiss on my forehead, and I pray the day never comes where these moments have turned into forgotten memories.