Manhattan Mogul: A New York City Romance

by Tara Leigh

  “Just a little?”

  “It’s a lot more than I’m willing to give anyone else.”

  “I’ll take it then.” I swallow a mouthful of my espresso, which is rich and strong, and just slightly bitter. “This is nice.”

  “Your coffee?”

  “No. I mean, yes.” I look around at the clusters of couples seated throughout the small restaurant, realizing I’m one of them. “But mostly, this. Just being here with you. Usually I swing by on Greta’s mornings off for a quick coffee while I read the Journal, or pick up an Americano on my way into the office.”

  She tilts her head to the side. “Maybe you should take a break every once in a while.”

  “You sound like Lucia. I’m not really the type to stop and smell the roses.”

  “So stop and smell the coffee beans instead.”

  I laugh. “Maybe one day.”

  “You know, you could probably do this more often if you gave up your No Girls in My Bachelor Pad rule.”

  “I guess I’d have to graduate from one-night-stands to . . .” I make a face and Nixie laughs.

  “Maybe you should start small. A fling, at first.”

  “A fling?” I test the word on my tongue. It doesn’t sound bad. It sounds kind of nice, actually. Like a series of one-night-stands. Maybe a daytime date mixed in with a few evenings. “That could work. What do you think—how about it?”

  “Me? You’re asking the wrong person. I’ve never had a fling.”

  I grin, the idea growing on me. “So have a fling with me. We’ll figure it out together.”

  Nixie puts down her coffee cup. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “As a heart attack.”

  “That’s a horrible analogy,” she says, her nose crinkling adorably. “Maybe we should start with dinner.”

  “It’s a plan.”

  Too soon, it’s time to leave. I wave to Lucia and hold open the door for Nixie, pointing to the Navigator parked across the street. “Jay can take you wherever you need to go.”

  Nixie just shakes her head and leans in for a light kiss. “Nope. Doc cleared me. Have MetroCard, will travel.”

  I groan, wrapping her hair around my fist and splaying my fingers against her scalp. I suck her bottom lip into my mouth, tasting coffee on her tongue, layered with the sweetness of whipped cream and the bite of freshly grated cinnamon. Fucking delicious.

  Nixie’s hands roam up my chest, curling around the back of my neck, her fingernails sending chills down my spine. I’m on a goddamn street corner, as hard as I’ve ever been.

  Eventually, Nixie pulls away. It kills me to let her, but I manage to hold myself in check. Barely. “To be continued, tonight.”

  Her light laugh is carried away on the wind. “See you later.” And then she’s across the street, red hair whipping in the wind like a flag, halfway down the block before I can remind her to get in the goddamn car.

  A heavy hand claps me on the shoulder and I spin around to find Reggie sporting an enormous grin, his eyes tracking Nixie. I groan. “Lemme guess, Lucia called you.”

  “You brought a girl to her place, of course she called me,” he says, as if it’s a foregone conclusion.

  “Don’t get any ideas, okay? I barely know her.” Not even her real name. But I want to. I want to know everything about her.

  Or whoever she is.

  But we’ll start small. Dinner tonight. And maybe a fling, whatever that means.

  “I know you, and that’s what matters.” Reggie chuckles, then laughs harder at my affronted expression. “And from the looks of it, you’ve met your perfect match. Don’t fuck it up, huh.”

  Don’t fuck it up. Reggie’s pronouncement is still echoing inside my skull when I step out onto Eva’s floor, although my attention is quickly diverted by the two pint-sized bursts of energy careening down the hall. “Uncle Nash, Uncle Nash, Uncle Nash!”

  Madison and Parker are like two frenzied kangaroos—bouncing, panting, squirming. I drop the shopping bag I’m holding and kneel down, scooping them into my arms. “Hey guys, missed me?”

  “Yes!” they squeal, four arms winding their way around my neck, wet kisses planted on my cheeks. Guilt wells up inside me—it’s been two weeks since I’ve seen my niece and nephew. Eva is right, I should be around more. I’m the closest thing to a father these two have, and I need to start acting like it.

  Eva is leaning against the open door of her apartment, hands on her hips as she tucks one ankle behind the other. “They nearly mowed you down.”

  I grin. “Highlight of my day.” That, and kissing Nixie.

  Suddenly Parker points excitedly at the wrapped package peeking out from the oversized paper bag at my feet. “Is that for us?” he asks, already wriggling out of my grasp to get a closer look.

  Madison turns guileless blue eyes on her brother. “Of course it is, silly. Uncle Nash loves giving us presents.” Turning back to me, she flashes a gummy smile. “Uncle Nash is the bestest.”

  A familiar combination of guilt and joy tangles inside my chest as I give her a squeeze. It’s impossible not to feel like a thief, stealing my brother’s children. And it’s equally impossible not to love them so fiercely it hurts.

  Still carrying Madison, I follow Parker as he drags the purloined package down the hall and into the living room. “Can I open it now?”

  “Wait for me!” Madison launches herself from my arms and scurries over to her brother’s side.

  “Have at it, you two,” I say, giving Eva a peck on her cheek and closing the door behind me as they tear through the wrapping paper. “So, what’s the plan for tonight?”

  “They are obsessed with the red pandas at the Central Park Zoo. I thought we could grab a bite near there, see the pandas and finish off with—”

  “Mommy, Mommy, look what Uncle Nash got us!”

  As Madison and Parker lift the brightly colored boxes containing presents Simmons swore would be Eva-approved, I feel a wave of appreciation for my assistant.

  “I see. Is there something you’d like to say to your very generous uncle?”

  “Thank you, Uncle Nash,” they say, rushing back over to me and wrapping themselves around my legs.

  I tousle their dark heads. “Anytime. Now, who’s going to lead me to the pandas?”

  “Me! Me!” they chant, until Eva tells them to get their shoes and coats on.

  As the twins dive into the coat closet, Eva turns to me. “Tell Katherine I said thank you as well.”

  I throw her a sheepish smile. “Better her than Jay.”

  She looks skyward. “Don’t you dare. We’d wind up with a drum set and a motorized Jeep.”

  The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur as we tour the zoo, including the pandas. While Eva takes Madison to the bathroom and Parker engages in a staring contest with a snow leopard, I send a quick text to Nixie.

  Nash: Looking forward to tonight.

  Her response is quick.

  Nixie: Me 2 xo

  Those two letters are new. She hasn’t used them before. Kiss, hug. Our brief embrace a few hours ago has barely whetted my appetite and I’m eager for plenty more of both. Dropping the phone back in my pocket, I clap my hands together. “Who’s ready for ice cream?”

  Chapter 7

  Nash

  It takes a few beats for Nixie’s expression to register what she sees. What she thinks she sees.

  Madison. Parker. Eva. Me.

  I hold her fierce stare, even as the impact of it resonates inside my body like a bomb. My jaw locks and then clenches, my ribcage contracting to grip my lungs in a vise. Every muscle is too tight, too tense.

  And I watch, helpless, as her amber irises ignite, swelling and swirling with emotions—confusion and horror and fury—until her pupils are mere pinpricks of deepest black at their centers.

  Nixie eyes are fun house mirrors, distorting reality into something else entirely. Turning the truth into a lie.

  Madison. Parker. Eva. Me.

 
We look like a family.

  We are a family.

  But not the kind of family reflected within Nixie’s pained gaze.

  And with Madison hanging off my back and Parker suspended between me and Eva—who could blame her for thinking I’m just another scumbag who tucks his wedding ring and conscience deep in his back pocket whenever it suits him?

  Oblivious, the kids peel off me, throwing themselves against the glass cases guarding the ice cream from their lustful panting. Seconds drag by like hours as we face each other. Surprise and disgust seep from her pores, distorting her gorgeous features like Vaseline smeared across a mirror, her silent accusations reverberating in my ears as distinctly as the kids excited squeals.

  Eva has followed the twins, watching over them as they point enthusiastically at every flavor. Once they come to a decision, she says, “Excuse me, could our little guy here try a taste of the cotton candy?”

  At Nixie’s wince, I jerk toward Eva, wondering if she’s ever called Parker “our little guy” before without me noticing. “Of course,” Nixie answers, her voice high and thready.

  “An’ I wanna twy the pink one!”

  Eva smiles down at Madison. “And a taste of the Very Berry Strawberry for Little Miss Pinkalicious here, please.”

  Nixie’s stricken expression eases as she hands small spoons to my niece and nephew with their choices of ice cream, watching as they sample each other’s flavors before predictably asking for scoops of both.

  “You know the rules,” Eva interjects. “Only one scoop.”

  “But mommy, pleeeeeeeeeeease,” they beg in unison.

  “If you’d like, I can give them each two really small scoops. It’s no trouble,” Nixie says softly, her tone barely audible over the kids’ impassioned pleas.

  “Yes, yes, yes! Two scoops!” When it comes to ice cream, the twins have the auditory processing skills of bats.

  Eva flashes an appreciative smile at her. “That would be great. Thank you.” As Nixie grabs a metal scooper from the pail of warm water, Eva walks back toward me and loops her arm through mine. It’s a struggle not to push her away, not to jump over the counter and explain to Nixie what she’s really seeing. Instead I watch the color drain from her cheeks as she attacks the tubs of ice cream, the freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose standing out in sharp relief.

  Madison notices, too. “Look, Mommy, she has princess glitter on huh face. Just wike me!”

  The description couldn’t be more accurate. Nixie moves with a regal bearing, and her face shimmers as if she emerged from a snow globe swirling with flecks of gold.

  Four golf ball–sized scoops later, Nixie drops the oversized spoon back into a jug of water and extends a pair of ice cream cups over the counter, straight into Madison and Parker’s grasping hands. “Thank you!” they squeal.

  Nixie winks at my niece. “Us princesses have to stick together.”

  Swallowing the heavy knot of want lodged inside my throat, I step unobtrusively away from Eva. “Why don’t you take them outside while I pay?” I suggest, eager to have a few minutes alone with Nixie.

  Eva looks away from the kids, a frown tugging her eyebrows together when her gaze lands on me. “Nash, are you okay? You look a little pale.”

  I stiffen. “I’m fine. Just—”

  Eva shakes her head, her hand curving around my shoulder as she turns back to address Nixie. “Would you mind getting him a bottle of water?”

  “I’m fine,” I repeat through a clenched jaw.

  Nixie looks from Eva to me and back again, her stare catching on the long fingers now resting on my collarbone. “Sure,” she says, giving a quick bob of her chin and spinning around to the case behind her.

  Eva extends her free hand to take the bottle of water from Nixie and pushes it into my chest. “Jeez, you would think I was trying to poison you or something.” Rolling her eyes, she turns back to Nixie. “Men,” she clucks. “You can’t live with ’em and you can’t live without ’em, right?”

  Nixie crosses her arms in front of her chest, the force of her glare rocking me back on my heels. “Oh, I can definitely live without ’em.”

  Unfazed, Eva chortles. “Well, you’re way ahead of me, then.” Pulling a wad of napkins from the dispenser near the register, she motions to Madison and Parker. “Come on, guys. Let’s go sit on the bench outside.”

  With the twins’ mouths full of ice cream, only the sound of their tiny feet racing though the door can be heard over the low hum of the freezers. Harsh fluorescent lights beat overhead, leaving every nuance of Nixie’s face bare to my gaze. Fury rises from her skin like steam.

  The door has barely closed when I blurt the most clichéd line of all time, “It’s not what you think.” The words land in a foul pile at my feet, their stench worse than day-old garbage from Fulton Fish Market.

  Nixie turns up her nose and grabs the hundred out of my hand. “You know what, Nash—spare me the sleazy, half-assed explanation.”

  “Nixie—”

  “What? Are you going to tell me again how you,” she lifts her arms to make air quotes, “‘don’t do relationships?’ It looks like you’re in a pretty cozy relationship to me.”

  The invisible beam of energy running between us is sparking and crackling, its voltage off the charts and still rising. “I swear—”

  “You swear? Is that the same as giving your word?” Nixie scoffs. “I’m keeping the dog, but I don’t want anything else from you.” Thrusting my change back in my hand, her glare could fell a redwood. “Leave, Nash. Go be with people who haven’t realized what an asshole you really are. Yet.”

  I open my mouth but before I can get another word out, chimes blare through a small speaker set above the entrance of the shop. “Parker had an accident,” Eva announces, poking her head through the front door. “We need to get back home.”

  Worst timing ever. I stuff the cash into the tip jar, a heavy sigh punching from my lungs. “We’re not finished,” I grumble.

  Nixie doesn’t let me have the last word. “Oh yes, we are.”

  Nixie

  My knees nearly buckle as the door slams closed behind Nash’s perfect ass. Damn him for looking so good on the outside when he’s one ugly son of a bitch on the inside.

  His promise taunts me in the quiet, empty space. I give you my word.

  I am so angry, so furious, I’m absolutely shaking with it. But the emotion is unstable, and unsustainable. As quickly as it flares, it’s gone.

  The sudden hollowness left in its wake does not remain so for long. Disappointment seeps into every void, filling each nook and crevice until it feels so much bigger than that.

  Disappointment is getting a bad seat at the movie theater. Disappointment is the taco place forgetting to include guacamole with your order.

  This is . . . disillusionment. Nash didn’t just pull off my rose-colored glasses, he’d stomped on them in front of me, then thrown the jagged shards in my face.

  I’m just as upset with Nash as I am with myself. How could I have been so stupid, again?

  I actually believed Nash. And I think I started to believe in him, too.

  Eventually, the door opens again. Another family. And then a pair of teenagers. When I’m alone, I attack the glass with Windex, refill the napkin dispensers, wipe off the tables. And attempt to give myself a pep-talk.

  Pull yourself together, Nixie. What really just happened? You discovered that there’s another jerk roaming the streets of Manhattan. Big deal.

  A jerk who swooped in like Santa Claus and gave me the pet I’ve been longing for my whole life.

  There has to be a silver lining in the situation. I mean, losing both my parents at an age when I still believed in Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy—I know what true loss is, and how it feels. Discovering the guy I’ve been crushing on is a complete slimeball might be pretty shitty, but it hardly qualifies as tragic.

  Feeling a little bit better, I push off the register. Silver lining number one: Even thoug
h I’ve spent all day looking forward to my date with Nash, at least I won’t go home to an empty apartment. I have Kismet. And while I hate that she’ll forever be a reminder of the cheater I so foolishly fell for—hook, line, and sinker—I can’t regret the circumstances that brought her to me.

  I grab a pint-sized container, filling it to the brim with alternating layers of mint chocolate chip and crunchy crumbles. As I invert a loaded spoon onto my tongue, letting the concoction melt in my mouth, I find a second silver lining. With no need to save my appetite for dinner, I can gorge myself on free ice cream.

  Except that it isn’t quite as delicious as I remember. The mint-infused flavor has a slightly chemical aftertaste, and the crunchy crumbles are chalky and almost stale. I swallow it down anyway. No. Nash does not get to ruin my favorite treat.

  Any other silver linings? I think about the fun, flirty text stream on my phone, and the thrill that raced up my spine every time it buzzed with an incoming message. Our conversations rekindled a spark in me—one I thought might be permanently extinguished. After what happened to my parents, I shut down. It took years for me to open up to Derrick and his father, who took me in and raised me like I was his own daughter. Years before I stopped expecting that they would be ripped away from me, too.

  They say kids heal quickly, but I trudged through most of my childhood like an open wound. Derrick’s father did his best, but he worked a lot. It was Derrick who took me to soccer practice at the neighborhood park. Derrick who insisted I finish my homework before I turned on the television. Derrick who asked about my friends and walked me home from after-school playdates.

  Derrick used his allowance to buy my favorite candy from the corner store, and let me tag along with him and his buddies if I had nothing else to do. He held my hand when we crossed the street. And eventually, he taught me that it was okay to laugh again. Even to love again.

  Until one phone call ruined everything.

  But the sad, scared girl who locked herself away in Williamsburg isn’t the same person I am now.