Page 100 of Fair Trade
But after the explosive ending to our bachelor and bachelorette parties, we all seemed to act as if nothing had happened.
She’s blended in so seamlessly into my family that a part of me feels like she’s always been here with us.
Watching her and Nick go head-to-head in the kitchen, making my little cousins the judge of a blind taste test for the best Dominican dish, was the highlight of my day.
It was such a sweet holiday, my first with my husband and one that I will forever cherish.
But now we’re in the new year, and I have less than two weeks until the trade deadline is up, and my reputation is on the line.
I’m trying to keep my cards close to the vest, because I don’t want a leak deterring my plans for landing Julian Vega. He’s on everyone’s radar, and one wrong move could have me fumbling the biggest deal of the season.
Which is why I’ve purposely left Richard in the dark. I wouldn’t put it past him to try and sabotage this deal for me, and that thought alone tells me everything I already know. Richard can’t be trusted.
Nick was grumpy when I left him in bed this morning, sleepily mumbling “bad wife” as I kissed him goodbye.
But I wanted to get to work early and prepare for what I hoped would be the final meeting with Vega and his team. I plan on giving them a tour of the facilities and field while they’re here. And I may have strongly suggested that Martinez and Torres, his former teammates and current Monarchs titans, be in the gym at the same time in hopes that a little reunion with his former mates might be the cherry on top to his eye-watering contract offer.
I’m done placing note pads on the conference table when I hear the door slam open behind me and whirl.
“What the hell, Nick? You scared the shit out of me.”
But something isn’t right. Nick has never set foot inside the executive offices without a freshly dry-cleaned suit. Now he stands before me in a white t-shirt that looks heavenly against his brown skin and a pair of workout pants and sneakers.
I should probably be more focused on the thunderous look on his face.
He quietly rounds the long oval table until he stands in front of me. His shoulders are laden with tension.
“Wife,” he growls as he pulls something out of his pocket and brings it up to my face. “Care to explain why these are currently in my hand and not on your ring finger?” My shiny engagement ring and wedding band sparkle in the light from the floor-to-ceiling windows.
I go to grab them, but he pulls them out of reach, waiting for an explanation. “Calm down, caveman. I was so jittery this morning, running through my plan of action today, that I spilledcoffee all over my sleeves. I had to take off my rings to rinse them and change my shirt. I must have forgotten to put them back on. Now hand them over.”
He stares down at my open hand and flips it. Slowly, he slides my wedding band on, followed by my engagement ring. “You almost gave me a heart attack when I found them by the kitchen sink.” He kisses my knuckles below the rings.
“Aw, thought I’d finally come to my senses?”
“Don’t make me bend you over this table, Angel. Teach you a lesson and make you forget your nerves about your meeting. Two birds and whatnot.”
I put my hand on his chest, and he allows me to push him back easily enough. “Don’t even think about it, Lucifer.”
“You know I love it when you call me that.”
I roll my eyes and run a hand down my soft pink blouse. “I’d prefer not to look freshly fucked when I try to land this deal, thank you very much.” I turn around and straighten the notepads and pens, trying to make sure nothing is out of place.
He sighs dramatically. “Fine, I’ll be on my best behavior if I must.” He wraps his arms around me from behind. “Have I told you lately how proud I am of you? Of how much you’ve managed to accomplish in such a short time while many in your same industry try and fail to knock you down?”
I bite down on a smile. “I swear, if you make me cry…”
He places a quick kiss on my cheek. “Wouldn’t dream of it. But later tonight, I might be open to—”
“Knock, knock. I hope I’m not interrupting anything important. Or is this a personal meeting between husband and wife? Never quite sure what I might stumble into with you two.” Richard’s laugh is as fake as the knock-off Rolex on his wrist.
Nick stiffens behind me, most likely ready to strangle the man. He might need to get in line, because Richard’s grace period with me has finally run out. “What are you doing here?”
His smile is condescending. “Now, kid, that is no way to talk to your work colleague, is it?” He chuckles.
“Hey, Dick. Can I call you Dick?” Nick starts.
“Only my golfing buddies call me—”
