Page 35 of If the Suit Fits
“Melanie Hamilton and…” Lost, I look at Anna, then down to the envelope again. “What?”
“She doesn’t own that trading name.” Anna snatches up the envelope and tears it open, though the top slit isn’t sealed. She does all things with enthusiasm and pizzazz. Yanking out the contracts, she scans each page with dizzying speed and flips to the next, then the next, and the next… “This isn’t how one conducts business, Ms. Anderson.” She flips to the next page, scowling while she reads. “Companies cost money to operate, and registering one’s business name requires, well…” She frowns and brings her eyes up again. “My client,”—I guess that’s me—“isn’t willing to sign company start-up documents all because your client wants her to work for them. It’s not?—”
“A company start-up? What?” I snatch the contract and desperately search for words. Sense. Help. “I don’t understand.”
Bello Lolo Industries. “What?”
“Wait a second,” Manson barks out. “You’re not usingmyboardroom to conduct business. And you cannot bring this project to Ms. Hamilton without a breach of the non-compete clauses she’s already signed.”
“Actually.” Anna places her hands on the table, bristling with quiet maniacal pleasure, “My client signed no such clauses. I seem to recall her title and remuneration package stipulating data entry and administration duties. She was designing for you, Mr. Manson, but at an assistant’s salary. And though it may gall you to remember such inconvenient details at this inopportune time, it sure makes my tummy aflutter.”
Bello Lolo.
“You’re welcome to take that with you,” Laura inserts. “Read over the paperwork and come back with your counteroffer.Though I believe Mr. Ramos’ offer to be exceptionally generous.”
“Mr. Ramos?” Anna practically dances in her chair. Flapping hands and vibrating pleasure. “Mr. Ramos is your boss?”
“Uh…” Laura’s eyes widen. “Yes?”
“So, he’snothomeless?”
I spot movement by the boardroom door and slowly push up to stand as a handsomely suited man with devilish eyes and a sly grin steps in. But I have no words. I have no air. My lungs cease to function, and my heart pounds a thousand beats a second.
“No,” Laura snickers, the sound barely breaking through my one-track consciousness. “Mr. Ramos is not homeless. He’s the founder and CEO of Bello Lolo Industries, and he has made his wishes clear. We sever our business relationship with Manson, Mason, and Samson as of now. We enter business dealings with Melanie Hamilton and Co. just as soon as contracts are signed.”
“Hey, Princess.” Nick fastens the button on his jacket and looks me up and down that way he’s so good at. “I see you respected the client’s brief with the windows.” He nods toward my design, presented on canvas and displayed on an easel. Mr. Manson likes to think doing so impresses clients. “That looks way better than the bays in the original design.”
“Y-you’re the client?” I step around the table and approach his broad, strong stance. But not too fast. Not too eager. I’m terrified once I’m close enough to touch, he’ll simply dissolve into thin air and I’ll be all alone again. “You set this up?”
“We met once before. Did you know that?” He tilts his head and grins as I come closer. And when we’re just two feet apart, he reaches out and presses his thumb to my trapped lip, pulling it free, though I had no clue it was stuck. “I was freshly eighteenyears old, with a busted shoulder, and just weeks out from losing my dad to a car accident. We had a game at your high school, and even if I wasn’t playing, I was still coming to support my team.”
“W-what?”
“I was just a broke kid back then, and you were so pretty. So perfect.” He slides his thumb over my jaw. “You were dating that wankstick, even back then, and he and his rich goonies thought it would be cute to kick my bag into the mud.”
I bring my hands up and cup my mouth, tears building in my eyes and turning my vision blurry. “Nick, no, that wasn’t…”
“He thought he was better than me. Rich versus poor. Upper crust,” he smirks, “versus trailer trash. He’s a small man who felt powerful standing over folks, and that day, I was alone in the parking lot because my sister was having a rough day and needed to talk. I was on the phone, dealing with her tears, and Taggart thought he was so funny, kicking my shit into the mud. But you, Princess…” He drags my hands from my mouth and strokes my wrist with the side of his thumb. “You scrambled around that parking lot, picking up my things and calling him out for being a douchebag.”
“I didn’t know that was you.” Tears well over and dribble onto my cheeks. “He was so mean, and I just wanted to?—”
“You were so brave, even when it scared you. And so nice, though I was alone and kinda dirty looking. I’d barely slept in weeks, and my face was busted up from the accident. I looked like a mess, and it was hot as Hades, so I was sweaty and probably smelled like it. Elena was sobbing on the phone, so I was distracted as fuck. But there you were, being you.” He leans in and feathers a gentle kiss on my cheek. “I never forgot you, Princess. Even though,” he chuckles, pulling back, “it seems you forgot me.”
“No, I?—”
“Then I saw you again last year. I was looking for the perfect architect to design my newest multistory, and you were in the paper for that other project you’d worked on.”
“Me?” I’ve only been in the paper once in my entire career, but I was in the background while Manson and Carl were taking credit for my work. “I didn’t?—”
“You did. I recognized you right away. Turns out you had the exact qualifications I needed, and my heart still jumped a little faster when I thought of that girl who helped me pick up my stuff.”
“Nick…”
“So then I sent Laura on an adventure, and as luck would have it, you were still kind and smart and so fucking sweet, it makes my teeth ache.”
“You offered me your hair tie.” Ms. Anderson inserts. “And help, because there was a man there that night who was a little over eager with his attentions. I was fine,” she adds with a grin, “but you couldn’t have known that. You and Anna followed me to the bathroom and made certain I was okay.”
“So pure,” Nick murmurs. “So kind. So perfect. Luckily for me, you were an architect, and I needed one of those.”
