Page 14 of A New Year's Toy

Maybe I’m being a jerk for being unable to shake off this unexplained repugnance for them.

“Who is this gentleman?” Delphine turns to me.

I stay silent, adamant to let Nola navigate through the situation.

“This is my boyfriend.” Nola’s face shines at me. “Alistair Cromwell. We’re visiting together and he asked to tag along.” She looks back at the siblings. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” Laurent approaches me first, shaking my hand. “This is a family-operated company. We welcome and encourage, whether it be with our employees, clients, or suppliers.”

Delphine outstretches her hand after him, which I shake. “Indeed. We’re very happy to have you here, Monsieur Cromwell.”

“Thank you, but this isn’t about me.” I return to my seat, scooting it another inch until it hits the wall.

Invisible.

For the next thirty minutes, they show Nola new lines of products they haven’t revealed to any of their other clients. They claim they were completely besotted by her ambition, her all-inclusive shop, and the great reviews she received online, that they’re happy to sign exclusivity in the US and are excited about their future endeavors.

Nola holds onto her poker face, smiling and sobering at the right time. But most of all, she’s listening. She feels the vibrators they show her, the anal beads, the sex card games, cuffs, and floggers.

She’s pleased. They’re pleased.

Maybe I was wrong.

“We hit a gold mine here,” Delphine says to her brother in French while Nola tests the speeds and sound levels of a crocodile-shaped vibrator.

The hairs at the back of my neck stand on end. My heartbeat races. My muscles tense.

Ready to pounce.

“She has no idea,” Laurent agrees.

“No idea whatsoever. The poor sap.” She nods to the unsuspecting Nola who tells her she likes the glow-in-the-dark vibrator as well. “People from around here, they know how much it costs us, give or take. If in America it’s the norm to pay more…”

“Then we’ll take it.”

They’re not whispering, trying to make it sound like any normal, daily conversation between two family members.

Me, on the other hand, I’m not smiling at all. I’m hanging by a thread, and yet I need to keep my cool. This is Nola’s moment. Nola’s decisions. Running a business entails stumbling, getting shit wrong, accepting it as a learning experience, moving on stronger.

But Nola isn’t by herself. She has me.

My responsibility for her runs deeper than capturing and releasing her breath. It’s more profound than the fucking tea I have set for her after sex.

It’s about protecting her. Looking after her.

Allowing no one, not a fucking soul, to disrespect her.

Myself, included. Because even though these two are the scum of the earth, it’s her meeting. And she’ll be the one to lay it into them.

“Nola.” My strained voice catches her attention.

“Alistair?” She tilts her head.

What she meets is the mien of fury I’m tamping down to the best of my abilities.

For her.

“Outside.”

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