Page 29 of Fair Trade
Nick doesn’t miss a beat. “Only the ones worth knowing.” His eyes quickly flash toward me before he looks down and closes his laptop. “Luisa, when you’re ready.”
“Right.” I stand a bit too quickly, sending my chair rolling behind me. I quickly wrangle it back and push it into place. I catch Nick’s confused stare and follow it down to my feet. I’m wearing flat Mary Janes. The shoes I often opt for, rather than my usual power heels, when I’m meeting with my AGMs.
I ignore Nick’s potential disapproval and make my way toward the presentation I have set up on the screen at the other end of the conference table. It truly isn’t necessary for what I have to say, but I feel more comfortable having the numbers and proof behind me as I make my case for the changes I have in mind.
James and Mark take their seats next to Richard and settle in with their array of morning snacks.
“So,” I begin nervously. Fuck. Why am I nervous? I practiced this last night. I know the information like the back of my hand. This isn’t a spelling bee; it’s baseball. It’s in my blood. I need to start acting like it. And I will, the second my backbone decides to come back to me after taking an apparent coffee break.
“Oh, Luisa, before you begin.” Nick stops my panic spiral. “I know this space isn’t massive, but if you could please be sureto project your voice. And while you’re at it… remember toenunciateyour words.”
I suck in a shocked breath.
He didn’t.
He wouldn’t.
But as he leans back and steeples his hands over what I know to be a set of rock-hard abs, eyeing me expectantly, I realize he did.
He’s taunting me with the conversation we had that first night at the bar.
Here. Now. At work.
Right as I’m about to present to my subordinates. All of whom are older and much more experienced than me. I push down on the insecurity that had me overpreparing for this meeting in the first place and focus on the smug asshole sitting at the other end of the table.
The recklessness of his actions has me seeing red. I straighten as I feel my eyes turn to slits in his direction. I tap on the touch screen more forcefully than necessary as I begin. “I’ll try my best, Mr. Stonehaven. But in any case, you’re free to switch seats if that suits you.” I pause as he bites down on a slight smile. “And I know you’re new to the sports world, so when you see the letters M-L-B on the presentation, know that it stands for Major League Baseball.” I nod patronizingly.
The satisfied grin that overtakes his face has no place in the boardroom, and yet it’s the one thing I must have needed to get my head on straight before I dove into my presentation.
By the end of the meeting, everyone, including Richard, is on board with the idea that we need to find a new shortstop, given that our player is currently hiding an injury from us. Clearly our rookie doesn’t understand that his strength and conditioning coaches don’t miss a thing, and neither do I.
They all file out of the room as I start to gather my things.
I’m riding a high so powerful I don’t even care that Nick has made no attempts to move from his seat as he stares me down.
“Impressive work, Luisa.”
“I know.” I don’t try to downplay how good I’m feeling.
He chuckles to himself. “Although I do have a few questions.”
I grab my purse and hoist it over my shoulder. “Okay, so a shortstop is the baseball player who is positioned—”
He rolls his eyes as he interrupts. “I know what a… never mind. Care to explain why you let that Richard guy call you a kid?”
I smirk. “Oh, so you do know his name.”
“Answer the question.”
I shake my head. “He’s old-school. Probably still has a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that his new boss not only holds his prior job title but is a woman less than half his age.”
He nods thoughtfully. “Understood. Now tell me why the fuck any of that should be your problem.”
My jaw drops slightly and he tsks.
“Wouldn’t do that while you’re alone with me, Angel.” I stiffen and my mouth snaps shut. “And you’re welcome, by the way. Seems like any time I reference the night that shall not be mentioned, you somehow are able to refocus your wrath toward me and hone it into your work. Something we can discuss during your quarterly review, so no need to dive into all that now.”
“Are you—you did that on purpose?” I seethe.
