Page 71 of Fair Trade
“You’ve been married for all of fifteen minutes, and you think you know him? You expect me to believe that you married him for love and not his money?”
Luisa must have eyes in the back of her head because she raises her hand, stopping me from plowing into the poor excuse for a man.
Instead, she leans forward and plucks the pocket square out of my father’s suit jacket. I don’t miss his slight flinch as she does.
“Ah, yes. Apparently my husband isloaded.” She uses the small piece of fabric to wipe at her engagement ring, shining it until it sparkles under the lights. “And if you haven’t noticed, he decided to marry a Dominican woman who didn’t go to a fancy boarding school in Connecticut. But I promise you, Harlem public schools taught me how to act right. And, more importantly, how to handle bullies who are all bark and no bite. So let this be a lesson to you.” She balls up the pocket square and shoves it back into its small opening. “Fuck with me and mine, and you’ll find your balls in the same pocket as your tacky Gucci square.” She taps over the spot where she placed the wrinkled fabric and turns toward me. “Walk me to the bathroom, please? I need to wash my hands.”
Pride like I’ve never felt before fills my chest as my wife walks past me, hips swaying. “You coming or what, Stonehaven?”
I don’t even have to think twice.
“Anywhere with you.”
thirty-four
Miami wins the WorldSeries.
The office is getting settled into the offseason. Many people think that this period would count as my downtime. And those people would be dead wrong.
The offseason is when my team and I need to hustle and regroup so we can come back stronger and ready for spring training.
The trading deadline for free agency is January fifteenth, which means my ass will be working through the holidays. Something I don’t mind doing, since I need the distraction from my home life.
The one where I go toe to toe with Nick’s dad and not so subtly threaten to cut off his cojones. I’m surprised I haven’t been hit with a lawsuit. Though I’m sure Nick and his team of attorneys would have no problem tackling anything his father throws our way.
After our little showdown last week, Nick clearly needed some alone time to cool down.
Even though I have taken up the role of that man’s personal peace disturber, I respected his space and made sure to keep my teasing to a minimum.
I’ve even been wearing more conservative pajamas to bed, hoping not to stoke the fires burning inside us.
Because the kiss on the night of the charity event will be seared into my brain for the rest of time. I’ve had to resort to sneaking into random guest bedrooms with one of my special toys to get myself off before bed since I don’t trust myself to lie next to that man with all the tension that builds in my body after spending the whole day with him.
But as the days go on, even my strongest contender isn’t doing enough for me. I blame the stupid hunk of a man I’m currently not having sex with for that.
Because I know how it feels to be taken by him in every position possible, and it’s only with the thoughts of our first night together that I can reach my release.
Maybe one more time wouldn’t be so bad.
The thought has crossed my mind more than once. Okay, more like a million times, if I’m honest. And maybe I would have succumbed to the feeling a few weeks ago.
But after facing off with his father, I find myself questioning more than my increased sexual desires.
Because the moment I saw the way George Stonehaven looked at Nick, I felt an indescribable surge of protectiveness within me. The feral need to defend a man who clearly needs defending from no one.
What’s more confusing is that I felt like it was my rightful place to do so. As if I were a real wife, protecting her husband.
But there was nothing fake about the way I wanted to inflict real violence on that man or how quickly I wanted to get Nick’s mind off his sorry excuse of a dad and focused back on me.
When I pulled him onto that dance floor, I could still feel his chest heaving with unstrained fury, his eyes unseeing.
But when my hands drifted up and tickled the tiny hairs on the nape of his neck, I felt his shoulders drop. When I placed his hands low on my hips, his frown disappeared. And when I leaned up on my toes and sealed my lips to his in front of event photographers, I felt him come back to life.
And now I’m drowning myself in an unhealthy amount of work and depleting my vibrators of battery to keep myself from doing something I might not be able to come back from.
Luckily, the best distraction has come in the form of the World Baseball Classic games, now to be hosted at Monarchs Stadium.
The series was scheduled to be played in Puerto Rico, but with the current hurricane season devastation, the organization thought it best to streamline aid and resources to the island and have the game played elsewhere.
