Exclusively Yours

by Nadine Gonzalez

  Nick took a seat and encouraged her with a nod.

  She answered the call on speaker. “What do you have for me?”

  “We counter at four seventy-five.”

  Leila looked directly at him. He recognized that look in her eyes, a glow of satisfaction that followed a big win.

  “I think that can work,” she said. “We have a deal. I’ll get the paperwork to you.”

  She hung up. “We did it!”

  Nick felt a rush. When he got the job with Reyes he hadn’t been this excited. He hadn’t been excited at all. Taking the job had been a power move to get him where he wanted to be. This relatively smaller deal felt like a personal victory and reminded him why he loved working with Leila. “You did it, babe.”

  “This is my first major deal,” she said, breathless. “I know it’s small potatoes to you—”

  “It’s not.” He leaned forward in his chair. “How does it feel to win?”

  Leila held his gaze. Then she circled the desk, leaned over to kiss him.

  He stopped her, pulling away slightly. “You’re on a high. You’re not thinking.”

  She touched a fingertip to his lips. “You asked how it feels. This is how it feels. Like old times.”

  Nostalgia won the day. Nothing was resolved between them; Nick knew it. She’d said she was sorry but what about? But what did he care when she was leaning over him, running her fingers through his hair.

  He reached for and unfastened the tie of her dress. “You’ve finally worn it for me.”

  She tilted her head back. “You remember everything.”

  “Everything.”

  He kissed her neck, revisiting known trigger spots. She whispered in his ear, “So do I.”

  With a groan of impatience, he lifted her off his lap and onto her desk. He brushed aside the front panels of her dress and stopped a beat to take in his handiwork. The black-mesh bra and matching panties were worthy of the grand reveal. He saw the chocolate disc of a nipple and went savage, lowering his mouth to suck it through the sheer fabric.

  Leila tried to slow him down. “Wait. Let’s go to my room.”

  “No.” He rested a palm on the clear space just beneath her throat and pressed until her back was against the desktop. “Let’s go right here.”

  “Whatever you want.”

  “Is that right?”

  He reached between her thighs, thumbed aside the delicate underwear but held back from touching her. She twisted and let out a plaintive moan. A pencil holder went toppling onto the floor.

  “Leila...?”

  “Yes.”

  “What do you want?”

  She raised her hips slightly. “Touch me.”

  He obliged her, wanting nothing more than to feel her come alive under his touch again.

  * * *

  All Nick wanted was to exhaust her. They moved from her office to the kitchen for a quick break to share a glass of water. Then he bent her over the sink, drove into her and paused, giving into the headiest feeling in the world. Leila moaned and he picked up the pace. Her cries of “Yes! God, yes!” were muffled by all the construction noise. When they collapsed, sweaty and out of breath, she kept at it, gasping, “Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God!”

  “Shh...” He kissed the delicate skin just behind her ears. “Don’t want to be indiscrete.”

  The sharp look she gave him was proof that she’d felt the jab. Then she crawled away from him and he regretted the stupid remark.

  “Thirsty?” she asked.

  “Do you have anything stronger than water?”

  She opened her freezer and pulled out a bottle of Grey Goose.

  “You’re so grown up now.”

  “Someone taught me the value of a well-stocked bar.”

  She splashed some vodka into a tumbler and handed it to him. Nick approached, dragged the cold glass along her bare arm and watched her shiver. “There must have been others.”

  “Other what?”

  “Other men who taught you things.”

  “That sounds very chauvinistic.”

  “Why not just answer the question?”

  She leaned against her kitchen table. “I haven’t asked what you were up to in New York.”

  “Ask and I’ll tell you.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t want to know.”

  Her evasiveness worried him and he drew his own conclusions. “I hope you had fun.”

  “To fun!” She raised her glass in a toast, thanked him for a good time then she asked him to leave.

  “You want me to go?” he repeated as if he hadn’t understood.

  “I have to be somewhere. Fun time is over.”

  “When will I see you again?”

  “I don’t know. Call me.”

  “Call you tonight?”

  “No. Not tonight.”

  “Got it.”

  The glassy look in her eyes told him it was all an act, but still it stung. Nick dressed. His anger made him agile and he was out the door before she could say another word. This was a new low for him. No matter what anyone thought about him, he’d never asked a woman to leave his apartment while she was still hot from sex. As he backed out of the alley behind Leila’s house, he vowed he never would.

  Chapter 23

  With last week’s roses in the trash and this week’s irises arranged in a glass vase, Leila sat at her aunt’s bedside. Camille stared at her with lucid eyes, but it was an illusion. Her mind was far gone, her thoughts looped around a single spindle. Time and place were mysteries to her, but she remembered most people. She remembered Leila, at least. Lung cancer, both the disease and the treatment, had wrecked her. Her skin fell away from her frame in thin, brown sheets as fine as Phyllo dough. Her once-thick black hair had the texture of cotton candy, dissolvable to the touch. The rest of her body vanished under the thin sheet.

  Lately, Leila’s days were structured around the hour or two she could spare to visit with her aunt.

  The visits always began with Camille pointing to a Bible on the bedside table. It served no other purpose but to hold a collection of photographs. Tucked within Genesis were two black-and-white photographs and several Polaroid prints of her aunt at various stages of her life. Two-year-old Camille in diapers, a big red bow in her hair. At fifteen in a blue chiffon dress. At nineteen in her first wedding gown. At twenty-nine in more modern bridal attire: a mini-dress with fluted sleeves.

  Camille had no children, a fact that had somehow factored into the end of her marriages. But she never dwelled on that. Instead she began her stories with, “My dear... I used to be a knockout.”

  “I know it,” Leila would reply. It was the only charitable thing to do.

  This time, the story was over before it began. Camille was seized by a fit of coughs that left her breathless and exhausted. Leila fit the oxygen tube into her flared nostrils. Within minutes, her aunt fell asleep; her jaw slacked open to reveal a pale tongue and missing teeth.

  Leila slipped the photos one by one into the yellowed pages of the Bible and tiptoed out the door. In the hall she ran into Dr. Passakos, the medical director.

  “Ms. Amis,” he said. “Good to see you. If you don’t mind, I’d like a word.”

  Dr. Passakos was an ancient ruin. He could check into the nursing home as a resident at any time.

  “I signed everything,” Leila said hastily. There was no end to the number of forms she’d had to sign and date.

  “Everything is in order,” he said. “That’s not what I want to talk to you about. I’d like to discuss the notion of hospice care.”

  “Hospice?” Was he talking about putting Camille down like a horse?

  Dr. Passakos reached out to touch her shoulder, but then appeared to change his mind. “Your aunt is ready and eligible for end-of-life services. My recommendation
is that you approve transfer of care. It’s for the best. But we shouldn’t discuss this out in the open. Do you have a minute?”

  Her phone rang, giving her a much needed out. “Not today. Super busy.”

  “When?” Dr. Passakos asked patiently, revealing his experience in dealing with difficult, even irrational, people.

  “Soon,” she said. “I promise.”

  Leila escaped the building, finding relief in the morning heat. The phone had stopped ringing but started right back up again. It was Sofia.

  “Are you getting ready?” Sofia asked.

  “For what?”

  “The luncheon for the homeless.”

  Leila groaned. She’d agreed to it last week, bought the ticket and forgotten all about it.

  “If you leave me hanging,” Sofia said. “I swear...”

  “Calm down!” If the choice were between rallying to end homelessness and discussing hospice with Dr. Passakos, she’d happily pick the former over the latter. “I’ll be there. Where is it again?”

  “JW Marriott. One o’clock.”

  With no time to waste, she drove straight downtown and applied lipstick in traffic. In her silk polka-dot blouse and dark skinny jeans, she wasn’t necessarily dressed for a charity luncheon, but she had a spare pair of heels in the trunk of her car. To avoid the cost of valet, she parked at a meter and walked the rest of the way.

  Sofia was waiting in the grand lobby looking stylish in a beige sheath dress and leopard-print pumps. These events were her hunting grounds, where she met the women wealthy enough to afford her services.

  “Here I am!” Leila called out.

  Sofia looked up from her phone, took in Leila’s outfit and said, “You really were going to stand me up. I can’t believe you!”

  “Sorry, but life got crazy. I totally forgot.”

  “Fine. You can tell me all about it over a three-course lunch.”

  They rode the elevator to the ballroom. It was the usual setup: a sign-in table with an assortment of brochures and complimentary pens. A volunteer offered to help find their name tags. She approached Leila. “And your last name is?”

  “Amis. Leila Amis.”

  “Why does that sound familiar?”

  Leila studied the redhead behind the table and dropped the complimentary pen she’d swept up. The name tag pinned to the woman’s chest read Monica Rivers. “You’re Nick’s Monica!”

  The redhead laughed wholeheartedly and Leila could have died with embarrassment. The words had popped out before her mind had had a chance to edit them.

  “It’s been a long time since anyone has called me that! But, yes, I was Nicolas Adrian’s assistant for years. And you’re the one who replaced me. I’ve been dying to meet you.”

  Sofia and Monica knew each other from the days Monica worked with Nick, and they greeted each other warmly.

  “It’s a small world!” Sofia exclaimed. “You’ve met Leila.”

  Monica nodded. “We have so much in common, we ought to sit and talk.”

  “You really should,” Sofia said.

  “Maybe after lunch,” Leila said. Or maybe never...

  “Or maybe right now,” Sofia suggested.

  “Why not?” Monica said.

  “Oh, but you’re busy,” Leila said.

  “Forget that! I’ve been on my feet all morning. Plus the keynote speaker is running late. We’ve got time.”

  Monica announced to her colleagues that she was taking a short break. Then the three women found a quiet place to talk at a nearby lounge area. Sofia sat between them and, like a talk show host, set the tone.

  “Have you heard, Red? Nick is back.”

  Leila cut Sofia a sideways glance. Red? So what? They had pet names for each other.

  “Really? Is he still with K&M?” she asked. “I wonder who’s on his team.”

  “Not me,” Leila said.

  Monica’s smile was polite, hinting that she knew the whole dirty story.

  Leila flushed.

  Monica reached out and touched her arm. “I’ve heard so much about you. All my friends at the office said you were beautiful. And they were so jealous. You got the plum assignment. Everyone wanted to work with Nick.”

  “The big mystery is why you ever left,” Leila said.

  “That’s no mystery. The job was great before I had my twins.” Monica handed over her phone. The screen displayed a picture of kindergarten-age boys. They weren’t the copper-haired darlings Leila had imagined, but sandy-blond daredevils hanging upside down from monkey bars. “I couldn’t keep up with the long hours. Nick was fine with it. He let me go home early nearly every day. Then Jo-Ann found out and we had it out. Long story short—”

  “She fired you.”

  “Right, you’ve been there,” Monica said. “She shows up at your desk with a box... Dreadful.”

  They’d both gone through the same experience but for very different reasons. Where Leila had wanted more time alone with Nick, Monica had only wanted more time with her children.

  “Nick pissed her off,” Monica said, “and you had to pay the price. That was tough luck.”

  “How do you mean?” Sofia asked.

  “By pulling rank and demanding she keep you on at the agency,” Monica explained. “Who knows? If he hadn’t interfered you might’ve still had a job there.”

  Leila fell back in her seat. If Monica’s version of the facts was true, it changed things. It meant she hadn’t lost her job because of her relationship with Nick. Well, it did, but it didn’t—not the way she’d thought.

  “How is Nick, by the way?” Monica asked.

  “Better than ever,” Leila replied.

  “Tell him to call me,” Monica said.

  Leila promised that she would...whenever she ever got around to returning Nick’s calls. She hated playing phone tag, but believed it necessary. If she weren’t careful, she’d be right back where she was a year ago—dependent on him for her every pleasure, including her morning coffee. She was not going to allow him to hijack her life, not this time.

  Monica stood to leave. “He found me this job, you know. And I love it, more flexible. I miss those bonuses, though.”

  Leila felt the need to say something kind in return for the information Monica had freely shared. “You should know he hated losing you. On my first day he was still fighting for you. For a while it was awkward.”

  Monica smiled proudly. “But not for too long, right?”

  Sofia handed her a business card. “I do kid parties now, too.”

  Monica waved goodbye. “Enjoy lunch, ladies.”

  When she was gone, Sofia said, “It’s all for the best. If they hadn’t let you go, you wouldn’t have branched out on your own.”

  Leila massaged her temples. She was going to need a stiff drink. “I hope they’re serving alcohol.”

  “Cash bar,” Sofia said. “Don’t worry. I’ve got lots of cash.”

  “Good. Let’s head inside.”

  “Slow down,” Sofia said. “We’re not going anywhere. There’s a lot to unpack here.”

  Leila moaned. “I don’t feel like unpacking.”

  “Oh, we’re doing this,” Sofia said. “I’m curious. How did things end?”

  “At the agency? With Jo-Ann waiting for me at my desk with all my stuff boxed up. I thought that was clear.”

  “I mean with Nick. Why did you two split up? Was it the long distance thing?”

  “It was the firing thing,” Leila cried, exasperated.

  Sofia’s face lit up with understanding. “Oh! You’re saying when you told him, he was like, ‘Sorry. Not my problem.’”

  “I never told him.” And he would’ve never said that.

  “How do you mean?”

  “I moved back to Naples, ditched my phone, got my broker’s
license and turned my life around.”

  The tidy sentence hid a parade of horrors. That solo road trip in her tiny car cramped with all her stuff, her vision blurred with tears. At one point she’d pulled over to the side of the road to throw up, mostly water and coffee. A roadside ranger had asked if she was pregnant. When she’d finally arrived at her aunt’s condo, the door was locked. She’d killed a few hours at a strip mall and ditched her phone in a dumpster behind a 7-Eleven. There’d been five text messages and six missed calls from Nick.

  “Are you seriously telling me you went ghost on the man?”

  “When you put it that way, it sounds harsh,” Leila said. “I had to get out of there. I was overwhelmed.”

  “Leila! That’s so cold. Not to mention rude.”

  “Whose side are you on?”

  “I don’t know anymore,” Sofia said. “It sucks that you lost your job, but...”

  “But nothing! That Jo-Ann person we were talking about? She made me feel like...” Leila’s voice trailed off. Had Jo-Ann made her feel that way or had she felt that way all along?

  “You blamed him and you made him pay.”

  “You don’t get it. That’s not...that’s not what I did. Not intentionally, anyway,” Leila stammered. A part of her knew that Sofia was right. She’d deliberately sought to hurt Nick. She’d wanted him to feel as terrible as she did.

  “Oh, I get it,” Sofia said. “I’ve been with the same man for the last five years. I know what payback looks like.”

  Chapter 24

  On Sunday, Nick drove out to Key Biscayne, rented a catamaran and took it out on the bay. The wind was strong and he sailed as far out as the graffiti-stained marine stadium, a casualty of neglect and time. With some effort, and a whole lot of money, it could be restored. That wasn’t true of most things.

  The sun pressed down on his shoulders. He’d come out to flush his heart of disappointment. He didn’t understand Leila. She claimed to love him, then took every opportunity to push him away. He’d have given up on her if it weren’t so obvious she had feelings for him. Why she was intent on putting them both through this misery was the only question.

  A gust of wind lifted the blue sail. Nick adjusted course and admitted to himself giving up on Leila wasn’t a thing he could do. No one else knew him as well as her. She’d fallen in love with him despite his faults. His workaholic ways hadn’t turned her off. His smartass attitude hadn’t lessened her affection. But he’d left her, and that was the crime he was ultimately paying for.