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I’m gripping my fork-weapon so tightly my knuckles are white. “I’m missing bedtime with my daughter, so if you—”
“Then let’s make this quick.” He wipes his mouth and motions the waiter.
Swift relief settles in. Finally, he understands I am not interested in whatever he is offering outside of our business relationship.
I grab my phone and make a quick text to Remi that I won’t be much longer. But before I can hit the send button, the piece of fecal matter across from me speaks.
“William, we’ll have our meals delivered to the presidential suite. The lady and I have some business to discuss.” He winks at the waiter. “In private.”
Enough is enough. I pull two hundred-dollar bills from my purse and hand them to William. He looks at them like they’re dripping with disease.
“Fine,” comes out in an exasperated sigh.
Throwing the money on the table, I address the creep disguised as a gentleman in a three-piece suit. “Let me break it down so your tiny brain can understand. I’ve seen the dateline episode, so I know how this ends. My body is not part of the proposal. Work with Ever Heart or don’t.”
Out of nowhere, a sudden urge hits me—I will not go away quietly. Not again. As if it has a mind of its own, my hand grabs my full glass of eight-hundred-dollar wine and throws it in Mr. Sexual Harassment’s face. I watch in satisfaction as he huffs in surprise. Red drips down his crisp white button-down. I probably just ruined a three-thousand-dollar suit.
Good.
“You bitch!” Paul, in all his embarrassment, loses his suave disguise and reveals what a swine he actually is.
If being assertive and having self-respect makes me a bitch, then I will proudly wear the label. “That’s right, Mr. Wexford. You’ll do well to remember that the next time you try this shit with someone else. For the future, if you ever touch me without my permission again, I will go to the press. No amount of rebranding will restore your reputation after that.”
I walk away with my head held high … and a pit in my stomach.
We’re going to lose this deal. And our people will suffer because of it.
Tiptoeing into the brownstone, I slip off my stilettos and creep through the foyer down the hall. My toes dig into the soft, plush carpeting—a comfort to my aching feet. A low melody echoes through the space, wrapping around my shoulders and settling in my chest. Lulling me to a calm only home can give. I’m able to release the stress of worrying about the future and focus on the most important thing in my life—my daughter.
Even if I have to sell off everything, I’ll still have her. And Jay. That’s what matters.
When I get outside of her room, I stand still. There’s nothing like watching Remi hold Isabel—my whole heart—in his arms as he tenderly rocks her to sleep, singing a low hum of Harry Styles’s Sweet Creature. He’s been singing the same song to her for a few weeks now. I never heard it before, but now it’s my favorite. Remi’s voice is … yeah. It’s raspy and resounding, and so fucking soulful I could weep.
I try to catch them in these moments all the time. It’s one of the highlights of my day. After tonight’s shit storm, I need it.
Even though it was a rocky start, Remi and I have fallen into an easy routine. It’s only been a short time, but already he fits. Isabel adores him, and I can see why—he has a way of making you feel special. When you have his attention, it’s potent. It’s eye-to-eye, breath-by-breath, full-on absorption. The only other person who meets me head-on like that is Jay. It’s … nice.
Refreshing.
Goddamn exhilarating.
Remi can sing the hell out of Barney songs and wax poetically about the magic of life. Just the other day, I found myself in a compelling conversation with him about music and the five senses, and how it can be used in therapy to help adults and children alike. The way he sees the world is different. He’s fun and engaging, but he’s also attentive and reliable—something I didn’t think a charmer like him would be capable of.
Remington makes my life easier and he keeps the house serene, a place I can relax and just be. His help with the household duties is immense, and his bond with Isabel is strong. I should give him a raise.
I shiver, fantasizing about all the ways I could give him one.
“I can be a good boy for you.”
His words echo through my mind, reverberating all the way to my core and curling my toes. I play it on repeat at night, when I come whispering his name.
Remi spots me leaning against the doorframe and tips a small smile. He looks so peaceful, in his element. Like he was born to be a father.
My ovaries twitch. But as soon as I think about it, a sour taste burns in my mouth. I need to concentrate on my child, the one sleeping peacefully in Remi’s arms. The center of my whole universe.
Shuffling to the crib, Remi gently places Isabel next to Mr. Snuffles. He rubs her back to make sure she’s settled and then shifts his focus to me. “Hey, Queeny.”
His gravelly voice washes over me, and I raise my eyes to his. In this low light, they are dark and devastating.
