Deal Breaker: Billionaire Bosses

by Tara Leigh

  She cocked her head to the side, silently appraising me. “Everyone has expectations, Nixie.”

  “Maybe mine aren’t on the same level as yours. All I want is to get through the next year. But if there’s something you’re trying to say, I’d rather you just said it.”

  “I guess I am beating around the bush a bit. It’s just that Nash is very . . .” Eva stopped, her eyes sliding away from me as she exhaled. “Nash is very important to me, that’s all. I don’t want to see him get hurt.”

  “I wouldn’t do that to him.” My mug shook in my hands as I took a quick sip. “And, not to be rude, but do you really think you’re in the best position to be telling me that?”

  She offered a fragile smile. “I guess he told you about us.”

  “He did. He said you were in love, and that you cheated on him with his brother. I’d say you probably hurt him as much as it’s possible to hurt anyone without the police getting involved.”

  “You’re right. I did. Nash says he’s forgiven me, brushes it off like it was nothing. But I know what I did wasn’t right. I was selfish and stupid and cruel. Nash pretends to the whole word that he’s a cocky hardass. And he is, but on the inside, beneath the ripped muscles and chiseled jaw, he’s just a big softie.”

  Finally, something we could agree on. “Yeah, I’m beginning to see that.”

  “I’ve been in a holding pattern for a long time, afraid to move forward. Nash is the closest thing to a father my kids will ever have, and we loved each other once. I want him back, and I’m hoping that this,” she waved her hand at me as if shooing away a mosquito, “infatuation he has with you will burn itself out quickly.”

  Above our heads, there were two thumps followed by quick footsteps. I stared at her, too shocked to move. Eva glanced toward the ceiling, and when she looked back to me her features had hardened. “For god’s sake—you can barely stand up for yourself, whether it’s turning down a marriage proposal or making your own holiday plans. You run away from your problems, Nixie. Nash needs a woman who’s not afraid to stand on her own two feet and has the strength to face life head-on. He needs a partner, not a burden.”

  Eva’s unfiltered, and completely unexpected, opinion of me eviscerated the top layer of my skin, penetrating to my bones. As two pint-sized careening tornadoes burst into the room, throwing themselves into Eva’s arms, she delivered the final nail in my coffin. “Nash might not know it yet, but he needs me. And a few weeks with you will be all the proof he needs.”

  Nash

  “Ready to go?”

  Nixie’s face was white beneath her recently acquired tan, but she gave a quick nod, her lips pulling down as she clutched her purse like a life preserver and steeled herself for the flight ahead.

  I’d wanted to have some one-on-one time with her before heading back to New York, but Nixie barely left her room yesterday, saying she wasn’t feeling well after overdoing it with food and wine over Thanksgiving, and had been buried beneath the covers, reading a book, when I tried to tempt her to come with me to the beach.

  Now, there was a definite chill in the air of the plane, and it had nothing to do with the cold gusting through the vents. It felt as if there was something at play beyond considering my proposal, but I had no idea what could have happened between leaving the dinner table with an “I’ll think about it” and boarding the plane thirty-six hours later.

  Nixie had quickly settled herself beside a window, with Reina on her other side. Tristan and I sat opposite, casually talking about business and sports, not delving into anything deep, both of us casting furtive, longing glances toward the other side of the plane.

  Two hours passed quickly, with my parents doting on the twins while Eva slept. I missed the fun chaos of our flight to Bermuda just a few days ago, where Nixie and I had felt like a team.

  At Teterboro, Nixie hugged my parents and the twins and walked off with Reina and Tristan. I jogged over before she could get into their waiting car. “Hey, you’re not coming with us?”

  Her expression was neutral, her tone flat. If I had hoped to get a read on her, she wasn’t giving me anything to work with. “You have your parents, Eva and the kids. I don’t want to keep you from your family. Tristan and Reina said they would give me a ride. ”

  I glanced over at Jay wedging the small mountain of luggage into the back of the Navigator. “Fine. I’m going to get everyone settled at Eva’s place and then I’ll check on you at the hotel.”

  “You don’t have to check on me. I’ll be fine.”

  I ignored her. “You’ll be there?”

  She sighed. “Yes.”

  But when I arrived at the Ritz-Carlton two hours later, Nixie was nowhere to be found. I called and texted with no success, wearing a hole in the carpet as I ground my teeth until my jaw ached, strategizing how to implant a tracking device on Nixie.

  Finally, I went down to the bar, ordered a stiff drink and surveilled the lobby over the rim of my glass. I was halfway through my second drink when Nixie strolled through the revolving doors, Kismet trotting briskly at her side. I slammed my glass on the table and met up with her before they reached the bank of elevators. “You should have waited for me.”

  Nixie’s eyes flicked over me dismissively. “Says who?”

  “Says me.”

  She bristled. “All that talk about marriages of convenience must have left you stranded a few centuries in the past. I don’t need a chaperone, Nash.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but I went to Katherine’s.”

  The elevator opened and I followed Nixie in. “Katherine, as in my assistant?”

  “Yes, she doesn’t live far from here.” She pointed at the dog. “I went to pick up Kismet.”

  “Oh.” I shook my head to clear it. Of course, I should have known. “Why didn’t you wait for me? Or for Jay, at least? You shouldn’t go out alone until we know Derrick is no longer a threat.”

  There was a soft ding as we came to a smooth stop and Nixie launched herself through the doors before they had fully opened. “Jesus, Nash. The bigger threat is losing my mind. I need some room to breathe.”

  The exasperation in her voice kept me from entering the suite after her. Nixie wasn’t the only one rattled by how our trip to Bermuda had turned out. My head was brewing with crazy ideas and emotions. Fantasies of what life would look like if my relationship with Nixie became permanent. If lust became love.

  * * *

  “Your ten o’clock is here.” I was deep in thought over an elaborate spreadsheet when Katherine’s voice came through the intercom speaker on my desktop phone.

  I glanced at today’s itinerary. “Send Eva in.”

  My assistant pushed open the door, but the person following her wasn’t Eva. “Miss Coyne said to tell you that she’s running late, but will be here soon.” A stooped, older man walked into my office, wheeling a large black suitcase and holding a square box. I glanced at Katherine, a confused frown no doubt streaking across my forehead.

  “For the wedding,” she said quietly, as the man put down the box and unzipped his suitcase.

  Right. My wedding. To Nixie, my fiancée.

  Since our return from Bermuda, I’d given her the “space” she requested, and our only communication had been a brief text exchange after I sent the jeweler from Harry Winston to hand-deliver her engagement ring last week. Dominated by a tawny yellow diamond just a few shades lighter than her eyes, it was encircled by a halo of chocolate diamonds.

  I had yet to see it on Nixie’s hand.

  Why didn’t I give it to her myself? Propose like the gentleman I pretended to be?

  Because if she took one look at my face as I pushed the ring over her knuckle, I wouldn’t be able to hide how much our engagement really meant to me. There were feelings inside me, uncomfortable emotions that I wasn’t ready to examine yet, and I wanted to keep things simple. Nixie didn’t need to know about them, or about Mack Duncan.

&
nbsp; Instead, I sent her a text later that afternoon. Nash: Did you get the ring?

  Nixie: Yes.

  Nash: Did it fit?

  Nixie: Yes.

  Nash: Are you wearing it?

  Nixie: Yes.

  The tailor motioned to me, expectantly patting the box he’d set on the floor. Not a box, a fitting platform. I walked over and stepped onto it as he pulled out a worn tape measure, mumbling to himself as he jotted down numbers in a small notebook.

  Nixie said she was wearing my ring. That meant we were engaged . . . right?

  The enormity of what I was getting myself into struck me anew. Either I was the luckiest man in the world or the biggest fool on earth.

  Actually no, I was the biggest asshole that had ever lived.

  Nixie’s reasons for marrying me were out in the open . . . but mine, I’d kept those secret. Despite how closed off Nixie had been initially, not wanting me know anything about her, not even her name, she had somehow decided to trust me. And I was taking advantage of that.

  I liked Nixie, a lot. She made me smile, and my heart beat against my lungs like a caged animal. She made me feel things . . . things I couldn’t put a name to. Not yet, anyway.

  All I knew with absolute certainly was that Nixie was the key to acquiring Mack Duncan’s company. And if she knew I was using her like Derrick had, she would run away from me just as she’d run from him. Not that I would take Nixie’s inheritance, but that shithead had burned her so badly she’d disappear first and ask questions later, if at all.

  Life on Wall Street had clearly gotten into my blood. Here, no one divulged information that wasn’t already public knowledge without something to gain. Nixie didn’t know how vital marriage was to what would be the biggest coup of my career. Sharing the truth of my intentions added further risk to an already tenuous situation. My conscience told me to come clean to Nixie, but Duncan hadn’t signed anything yet. He could change his mind about selling to me, or decide he preferred another buyer. Instinct told me to keep my cards close to my vest.

  Instinct may have kicked my conscience’s ass, but it was still whining in a corner, beaten but not forgotten.

  At least Nixie had agreed to stay at the Ritz-Carlton rather than moving back into her less than safe Brooklyn apartment, and allowed Jay to take her to and from her classes at Pratt. Most of the time.

  The sound of Eva’s heeled boots striding down the hall announced her arrival before Katherine could. She had set up this fitting, probably because Nixie and I were both looking a little green around the gills every time we focused on the reality of our situation, and clearly avoiding each other. I still couldn’t wrap my head around Eva’s motivation for thrusting us off to the altar though, which was unnerving.

  As the tailor finished with the last of his measurements, Eva wandered over to the open suitcase, packed with fabrics of varying shades and textures, all of them black. Listening with half an ear as they discussed the tuxedo I would be wearing in a matter of weeks, I stepped off the platform and shuffled through papers on my desk while he packed up his things.

  After he left, I leaned back in my chair and turned my focus on her. “So, are you planning to fill me in?”

  “Oh, right. Sorry for being late, my parent/teacher conference ran long. Madison and Parker are doing great. Madison is having a hard time sitting still during circle time, though, and Parker—”

  “Eva,” I interrupted. “I don’t want to talk about the twins right now. We need to talk about us. Why you’re turning what could be a simple trip to city hall into the wedding of the year, and why you’re so eager to see Nixie and me married in the first place.”

  Clutching the Hermès Birkin bag I’d given her last Christmas, Eva lowered herself into one of the chairs facing my desk. “In Bermuda, you said you wanted to have the biggest wedding Wall Street’s ever seen.”

  I did? Apparently, I said a lot of things in Bermuda. I sighed. “Fine. I guess I’m just surprised you’re so supportive.”

  “Why? Nixie’s a nice girl who needs help. You’re in a position to do that. I don’t see what the big deal is.”

  “The big deal is that a few weeks ago you were talking about the two of us getting together. Now Nixie’s in the picture and you’ve completely backed off that.” I tilted my head to the side, eying her cautiously. “Have you met someone?”

  Her blue eyes widened, jaw going slack before abruptly snapping shut. “No. Of course not.”

  “Then what’s going on?” Eva had always been something of a mystery to me. Years ago, I’d thought she was The One, only to find myself sideswiped by her feelings for my brother.

  “I’m not blind, Nash. I can see that you’re attracted to her. But she’s not right for you.”

  “Then why—”

  “So that you can do your good deed and move on. Marry her next month, live separate lives until she gets her financials in order, and then get a quiet divorce. Otherwise, you’ll wind up shadowing her for nearly a year, constantly watching and worrying about this girl who has no business being in your life at all.”

  The force of Eva’s delivery pushed me against the back of my chair. I swept my tongue over the porcelain tiles of my teeth, weighing my response. Finally I nodded. “Okay. I appreciate your honesty.” Jerking my chin toward the door, I said, “You can see yourself out.”

  But Eva remained seated, edging forward until she was perched at the edge of her chair. “Am I telling you something you don’t know? You can’t really think you and Nixie are good for each other, can you?”

  Her questions were ones I’d been asking myself for the past month. And I was no closer to finding an answer. “Eva, I don’t have time to discuss this with you right now.” Or ever.

  “You sure had the time when you were the one asking the questions.”

  “Well, I’m through now.” Stretching my hands toward my keyboard, I tapped out a few commands and turned my face toward the screen. Work was the one place I still felt in control.

  I heard Eva’s quick intake of breath, the tap of her heels as she crossed the room. “Just so you know, the announcements and invitations went out this morning. Try to look a little . . .” Eva’s voice trailed off and I looked up, a flicker of annoyance tightening the cords in my neck. “Happier. This will all be over soon.”

  She slipped out of my office then, the door closing behind her with an efficient click, her parting words ricocheting around the room, thudding against the walls and windows until finally slamming into my chest.

  This will all be over soon.

  What if I didn’t want it to end?

  Not the actual wedding planning, of course. I didn’t have time for tuxedo fittings and ring shopping—I had a company to run. But I definitely wasn’t ready to let go of Nixie. Not yet, maybe not ever.

  Then again, was I ready to let go of the lifestyle I’d embraced before I’d run into an alley after a tiny slip of a girl who was as spirited and gutsy as anyone I’d ever met? Being Nash Knight wasn’t a bad gig. I was a player at the highest tiers of the global financial markets. I had access to corporate secrets, limitless capital, and endless sexual favors. For the past decade I’d triumphed in boardrooms all over the world, and in bed with international beauties after hours. Steamy one-night stands, brief but torrid affairs, illicit encounters in bathrooms and dark corners of high-end bars. I was a card carrying member of the mile-high club and several of the more risqué clothing-optional establishments across the globe.

  Looking back, though, I could barely remember faces, let alone names.

  Nixie was like a tiny missing chip that somehow filled a chasm I hadn’t even known existed. But did she fit into my cutthroat Wall Street world?

  The upper echelon of international finance was a place where only the fittest survived. And don’t let the Botox and blowouts fool you—Wall Street wives were the ultimate gladiators. Here, regardless of gender, thick skin and a Machiavellian mind were fundamental elements of the dress code.

/>   Nixie was not cunning, or ruthless. Despite personal tragedy, and an ornery spirit, there was a sweetness to her. A sweetness I would hate to see diminished.

  Circumstance had forced us from the starting block to the finish line without having ever made our way around the track. She needed this marriage as much as I did . . . but what would we do afterward? Say our vows and then retreat to our separate corners until we could obtain a quiet divorce?

  Was this . . . infatuation just a temporary thing? Would it only take another indiscriminate fling to get Nixie off my mind?

  So many questions, and there was no spreadsheet I could consult, or data I could analyze. Just me and Nixie. The blind leading the blind.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Nixie

  Nothing could have prepared me for the whirlwind my life had become.

  Staring at my reflection, I didn’t even recognize the woman looking back at me. For one thing, she was wearing a wedding dress. The most beautiful wedding dress I’d ever seen. Yards of silk and lace had been stitched together by hand, the overall effect ethereal and elegant.

  “Here you go, darling.” Marcella Velasquez, the owner of the upscale Madison Avenue wedding salon, came in bearing a delicate tulle veil with intricate beading sewn into a headband that could have been worn by a Windsor princess. The salon was so exclusive it wasn’t open to the public. Potential clients were vetted before being offered an appointment. And even then, permission to walk down the aisle in a Marcella dress wasn’t a given . . . Unless you were marrying Nash Knight, of course.

  I dipped my head and Marcella settled the ends of the veil behind my ears, pushing the band through my hair and pulling one of the translucent layers of tulle over my forehead. With the tulle covering my face my reflection was softer, the edges blurry. Better. The reality of what I was wearing, what I was doing, was too harsh for my naked eyes.

  “Well, now. Don’t you just look the princess in a fairy tale,” she enthused.

  Oh, I was living a tall tale, all right. What would Marcella think if she knew the four letter word that started with l and ended in ove had never even crossed Nash’s lips? Or mine. Our union was a solution to my problems. A convenient, crazy solution. My fiancé was the smartest, sexiest man I’d ever laid eyes on, and I wanted to do much more than simply look at him every time we were in the same room. Yet I had no idea what he thought of me, whether lust was an acceptable stand-in for a deeper emotional connection. I couldn’t reflect on any of the red flags and question marks trekking through my brain, though, because I wasn’t alone.