Page 17 of If the Suit Fits
“But… You…”Stutter, Princess. It turns me on.“You could’ve warned me!”
“Not everything needs to be planned out. I know schedules are your thing, but impulsivity has its perks, too.” Slowly releasing the clutch, I reach out the window and gently set my palm on her chest to nudge her back. “Watch your feet. Go back to work and draw something pretty while you have a few hours of quiet. I’ll see you soon.”
“Nick!”
“Instead of the row of windows in your atrium, consider a full wall of glass. It’s sexier.”
Her face screws tight, and her lips crinkle into unhappy lines. “Don’t tell me how to do my job!”
“Fine.” I turn my radio up and release the clutch until the truck is rolling forward. “Love you, Princess. You really should get used to saying it back. Your family will think it’s weird if you don’t.”
Istride through the heavy glass door of Taylor’s, an up-scale suit store in the middle of the city, an area I’d never dare visit, and emerge into a gathering of… well… the shit stains of society. I’m forty-five minutes late, but I have a fresh coffee in one hand and an almost-finished bagel in the other.
Tossing the last of my snack into my mouth and peeling my hat off, I slide the brim into my back pocket and take stock of the half-dozen men who simply watch me. The broke, dirty-jeaned, scuffed boots intruder upon their faux-elitism. I scan the crowd and easily zero in on Drew, and since he’s the groom and all that shit, I transfer my coffee to my left hand and start forward to offer my right.
Gotta play nice and all that.
“Drew Taggart?” I already know it’s him. Though I’m not the least bit surprised he doesn’t recognize me. Snooty small cocks neverseethe people they considerlessthanthem. “Nicolas Ramos.” I fake a smile and squeeze just a little tighter when he tries,but fails, to crush my hand. “I’ve heard… things about you.”
He’s uncomfortable, even less so than Mel having a stranger in her home for a week. His jaw quivers with what I think is his attempt at friendliness, but his eyes shift much like a rabbit’s doesin the wild. He knows he’s near the bottom of the food chain, and he ain’t climbing higher today.
He clears his throat and peels his hand from mine, wiping it on his pants and coughing out a laugh I think he thinks sounds real. “Nice of you to join us, Nick.”
“Nicolas,” I correct him. “No one calls me Nick. I appreciate being included today.” And because I’m an observant motherfucker, I cast that pencil dick out of my mind and turn my attention to the man on his left. Same eyes as Mel’s and similar jaw structure. She must’ve gotten her lips and nose from her mother. “You must be Mr. Hamilton.” I offer my hand a second time and play nicer, though I can’t honestly say I like this prick any more than the first.
He’s still buddies with the cheating ex. To me, that’s a statement made and a side picked. Unfortunately for this smarmy dickhead, he chose wrong.
“Nice to meet you, sir. Melanie speaks of you often.”
He’s a short, round man heading toward sixty but doesn’t look a day under seventy. He’s got a Colonel Sanders look about him, with the goatee shit hanging off his chin, a straight-cut mustache above thin lips, and a nose so wide, he must’ve run his face into a concrete wall a few times in his life. Lucky for us all, Mel’s genes clearly come down on the maternal side, which is probably the only good fortune she received from her association with the Hamiltons. In exchange for good looks, she was saddled with wank stains as parents.
“I’ve heard about you too, Nicolas.” His handshake is weak and half-hearted, almost like he’d prefer I lower to one knee and kiss his knuckles instead. But he holds my eyes, at least, and nodswhatmaybe approval.Probably not. “Raised by a single mother, I hear? Your father didn’t want to stick around?”
That’s the game we’re playing?Cool. “My father passed away in a tragic car accident. Which means my mother was a widow. Not single by choice. She did a wonderful job of things, in my humble opinion. She raised three law-abiding, respectful adults who do alright now that we’re older.”
“Law-abiding,” he chortles. “And respectful. What of your portfolio, Mr. Ramos? How is it?”
“Comfortable.” I draw my hand back and grin at the arrogant knobhead who thinks money is more important than integrity. “Business is strong,” I assure him. “Income is steady. Mel’s working on an exciting project, did you hear?”
“The building? The uh…” He rolls his wrist like it helps him think. “The one that’ll go up downtown?” He scoffs. “I haven’t had the heart to tell her Robbie intends to reassign the project shortly.”
Curious, I stare down at the man and frown. “Robbie?”
“Manson, the principal architect at Mel’s firm. They’re concerned her performance isn’t up to scratch, and they’re worried about losing the account. Robbie will speak with her about it when she’s back in the office, I believe.”
“But that’s business,” Drew intrudes—God forbid the weasel isn’t the center of attention—so he waves his tailor across the room and forgoes introductions with the rest of his bridal party.No need,he probably figures. I’m not important enough to get to know. “Today is a day for pleasure. And friends.” He looks me up and down.I’m not his friend. “We require your measurements, Mr. Ramos, and then final alterations can be made for Saturday.”
“Of course.” I turn to the tailor and say nothing when hedrops to his knees to measure my inseam. But I don’t let Drew off so easily. Instead, I glance over my shoulder and pin the poor fucker with a look. “So Mel told me you guys used to be an item. Long time, huh? What was that like?”
“What was…” Stuttering, he has no clue where the fuck he should look. “What was what like?”
“Losing her. You werethisclose to making her your wife, but you couldn’t quite get it over the line. NowI’mthis close to making her my wife. And though, where I come from, most guys would want to crush your skull for hurting someone so dear, I actually wish to thank you.”
“T-thank me?” His cheeks drain deathly white.Was it the crushing his skull part? “Thank me for what?”
“For screwing up.” I spin when the tailor taps my thigh, so now I get to look Drew straight on. “You had her since high school, right? She was walking a path that would’ve made her Mrs. Drew by now if you’d kept your wang in your pants. But you didn’t, and now I get to call her mine.” I flash a taunting, terrifying smile that has Old Man Hamilton scowling and Drew taking a step back. “I’m head over heels in love with your ex, and I wouldn’t have had that chance if you were less of a screwup.” I lift my arms when the tailor wordlessly works his way up my body. “I say this with complete sincerity: Thank you.”
“Uh… y-you’re welcome?”
