Page 25 of If the Suit Fits
“We missed yesterday, and you’re skipping meals today. I know this work project is important to you, but I’m demanding what I was promised.” He picks up half of my sandwich and places it between us, holding it so I know I have no choice but to accept.
“Good,” he murmurs when I take a bite, pulling the sandwich back to give me room to chew. “Start the clocks. My hundred and twenty minutes start now.”
“Fine.” I enjoy the slide of fresh bread and delicious ham on my throat, but when food touches the base of my stomach, I’m only reminded how intensely hungry I am. So I take a little more. “We’ve talked families. Siblings.” I cover my mouth, lest I spitcrumbs onto his shirt and humiliate myself just a little bit more. “You wanted to be a football star, but it ended with a bad shoulder. I pondered the life of a lawyer, considering how skilled I was in the debate team.”
His lips quirk into a smile. “Not surprised.”
“Your family is overflowing with estrogen and girl genes. Mine is overflowing with…” I frown and consider. “Pretense and fake purity.” I swallow and glance up. “What haven’t we covered?”
“You.” He offers the sandwich back, his eyes hard and his jaw clenched with what I probably should acknowledge as rage. “I’d specifically like to discuss your insistence on hiding away from me today.”
“What?”
“And last night. I thought we had a nice time, and I sure as fuck know I had anice time,” he emphasizes the words, “in my bedroom. You gave yourself to me, but only until the door opened again. Then we were back to theyouI met a couple of weeks ago. Stiff and awkward. Shy and scared.”
“I—”
“You’re gonna tell me that’s who you are,” he cuts in, “that’showyou are. That’s the woman you are, and you can’t change that. Yada, yada, yada. But I know it’s a defense mechanism at best. An avoidance strategy at the core. Why are you running away just because we stepped across the line?”
Becausewedidn’t step across any lines, Nicolas!
Iset the line on fire, andyouwere just doing your job.
“It doesn’t have to be a whole thing.” Avoidant—just like he already accused me of being—I turn and pick up my pencil so I can hover it above my page, pretending to work sinceactualwork will be impossible to come by for as long as he’s in here. “Webanged,” I shrug, “it was nice. Not professional,” I cough out, forcing the sound and hoping to all that is holy that he’ll accept is as nonchalance. “I kinda messed up, huh? Opened myself up to a world of legal trouble.”
“Excuse me?”
“Well, seeing as how I’m the instigator of this business relationship, and I’m the one paying for services rendered. I was the one who went to your room in the first place.”God, please, just kill me. “That was entirely wrong of me to do. I put you in a situation you shouldn’t have been in, Nick. You could even argue coercion since I—the boss in this situation—was asking for something, and you—the employee—probably worried saying no would end with being fired.” I hate myself. I hate who I am to myself. “I’ll understand if you want to leave today. And I’ll still pay, since none of this was your fault.”
“You’ll still pay?” He places the sandwich in front of my face, silently commanding I eat.
So, of course, I do.
“Even if I dip out now, the day before the big event, you’ll still pay me?”
Stab me a thousand times. I’d like to bleed out and go to sleep right about now. “Yes. Last night was my fault, and you were pressured into doing something you had no desire to do, to further a narrative I’ve requested, to lie to people you don’t know or like.” I swallow and lick my lips, shyly glancing his way to probe what kind of mood he’s in.
Relieved? Pissed?
“This plan was stupid from the start. And now you’re caught up in my mess, though your only crime was to bring me to your family and gift me with an evening of something real.” I pause andscoff, shaking my head gently from side to side. “The realest thing I’ve ever known. Your mother is the sweetest woman I’ve ever met, and your abuela is…” A long, sly grin works its way onto my lips. “Kinda terrifying, really. Because she’s quiet and watchful. She’s got that ‘I’ll slit your throat if you mess with my family, and you won’t even know I’ve moved’ energy. Your sisters are amazing, and your nieces are divine. Your entire home is smaller than the bedroom I had while growing up, and I don’t say that as a kind of backhanded thing. But rather to point out that your home holds more love than mine ever did, or ever could, no matter that mine was bigger. I grew up with a sofa that cost my parents something ridiculous, like five figures ridiculous, and I was never allowed to sit on it. Your mom’s sofa had a torn arm and homemade cushion covers, and still, I wanted so badly to lie on it for a little while.”
“You could have.” He places the shrinking sandwich under my chin again, forcing me to accept another bite. “No one would have stopped you. You could have even turned on a Disney movie and chilled with the girls. They would’ve braided your hair and sung along since they know every word to every classic Walt ever touched.”
What I wouldn’t give to do that. To have a movie marathon with a couple of elementary aged Ramos girls. But my upbringing, the expectations bred into my bones, made it impossible for me to even consider.
“I don’t accept your version of events, Princess.”
Curious, slowly chewing, I bring my gaze around and hate how he finds mine so easily. How he so seamlessly locks in and holds me captive.
“W-what do you mean?”
“I mean, for every minute we were at my home last night, wewere just Nick and Mel. If I touched you, it’s because I wanted to. If I kissed you, it was because I fucking needed to. And the things that happened in my room?—”
“Stop.” I swallow and drop my eyes again. “I put you in an impossible position and gave you no room to decline without worrying about your job. Now, I’m trying to offer you a way out. You can leave, Nick. I’ll pay you for the whole week, and you don’t have to worry about coming tomorrow. I cornered you into a complicated decision, and now I’m setting you free.”
“Free?” he grits out. “Just like that?”
“Yes. Because what we did wasn’t…” I groan. “It wasn’t consensual. It was an exchange of money for physical pleasure. I made you a sex worker, when we both know you’re not.”
