Page 103 of Fair Trade
For so long, I harped on feeling like my body had already failed before it even had the chance to try while also absorbing my mother’s experience and expecting it to be my own.
I never realized how heavily that weighed on me until the burden was lifted.
“What are you thinking about that’s got you looking at me like that? Not that I’m complaining.” Nick pulls me into his arms and kisses me deeply.
“Food. Babies. You.”
His eyes flash with heat. “Now, now, Angel. We’ve been getting plenty of practice. When do you want to stop taking your birth control pills? Because the thought of you carrying my child, filling you up with my—”
“Sangria.”
His brows furrow. “You want a sangria?”
“Ugh, no. I’m using my safe word. Parents are in the vicinity. Keep your breeding kink to yourself until we’re in the safety of our home, away from listening ears.”
His smile turns devious. “We could always run downstairs to my office. We could use my shower to—”
I throw my hands in the air. “I give up. You’re a lost cause.”
He leans down and nips my ear. “All right, all right. I’ll be on my best behavior.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I mutter.
The air seems to shift behind us, and Nick registers why a moment before my eyes land on the culprit.
“Oh look, the newlyweds are still glowing. Although I must say that I’m hurt that I have yet to be invited to any holiday dinners,” George Stonehaven tuts.
“What are you doing here?” Nick all but roars.
“Settle down, son. Last I checked, you owned this godforsaken place. I would imagine you keep some semblance of decorum at your place of work.” He raises a patronizing brow.
“Last I checked, you weren’t invited.”
“Ah, always so quick to make assumptions. Didn’t you learn your lesson regarding getting all the facts before you make your final conclusion?” He shakes his head as he drops his hands into his pockets. “Or have you forgotten that I have a daughter who works here as well? My one child who still knows how to respect her father.”
I don’t know if it’s the look he gives my husband or the mention of my friend—the one I now consider a sister—but before I know it, I see red. “That’s rich, given that I have yet to see anything respectable about you, Paul.”
“My name is George,” he spits.
“What you are is forgettable. An inconsequential doodle in the margins of my husband’s past. A pathetic excuse for a real man who knows how to step up and do what’s right.” I lean in closer, but Nick keeps a firm hand on my stomach, preventing me from potentially clawing George’s eyes out like I want to. “And if the latest stock reports are to be believed, the sole owner of a company that is dangerously close to going under. A man whose billionaire son has better things to do than dig him out of the financial ruin he’s created. But again, I have better decorum than to gossip about these kinds of things.” I smile smugly.
Nick has been keeping tabs on George since we ran into him at the first gala we attended. And he ramped up his search afterDaisy alluded to her father influencing her to marry Damien. The same guy who made a surprise appearance tonight, only to whisk Daisy away before the party even started.
Nick only got the very in-depth report this afternoon while we were getting ready for the party, and he filled me in right before we arrived at the stadium.
Which is how I also found out the asshole isn’t just visiting New York, he’s living here. That’s if his one-year lease in an overpriced midtown high-rise is any indication.
“H-how did you… that’s not accurate. We’re going through a…” He straightens, finding his composure. “That is quite frankly none of your business, and if I needed my son’s help, I would simply ask for it, given that I’m sure I still have something he wants.”
“I can take this one, Angel.” Nick pats my hip.
I smile. This part is going to be fun.
“You still worrying about my mother’s house in Jarabacoa?” Nick taunts.
His eyes dart between Nick and me. “You told her about that?”
“You know,” Nick starts. “After so many marriages, you’d think you’d know that open communication is important in relationships,” he mock scolds. “Of course I did. And soon enough, it’ll be back to its rightful owners. Until then, you can make yourself scarce. Because you are not welcome here or in any other establishment in which my family sets foot in.”
