These guys talked about the twins like they were clueless. It really fucking irked me. Still I needed to find a way to roll with it, because I was not going to put my foot in my mouth over these people’s infighting.
“I’ve talked extensively with Mitzy and Muffy.” Okay, their names were kind of ridiculous. “Their philanthropic efforts are significant and we do need to think about making those leaner, but they already know that needs to happen. And I will make sure they don’t forget it.” I tipped my head toward Duke and even managed to smile. “As you know, Davidson’s approach is to make sure the company does not lose what makes it unique in the process of preparing to go public. Sturm’s social responsibility arm makes it stand out in the high-end retail world, and that will help with the IPO. People like investing in corporations that invest in their people. We just have to be smart about balancing all of it.”
I ignored their eye rolls and kept going. “I will take your feelings into consideration.” I didn’t say anything else. I wasn’t looking to get taken off this project, but I would not get steamrolled either.
Phil pursed his mouth, obviously displeased with me not just rolling over for them. “The twins were born into trust funds, and that makes it hard for them to stay grounded sometimes.”
So had the fucker standing next to him, but I wasn’t going to point that out to Phil.
“They need to show more restraint. The senior executive team barely got bonuses last year, and yet they decided to give even more money to these Hispanic kids.”
This guy was really getting on my nerves. “This company is doing fine.” I’d learned to get past my personal feelings for the executives I had to deal with and their motives when it came to doing my job, but every once in a while I really wondered how people got the way they did. “I’m sure we can find a way to make everyone happy and have Sturm’s in good shape for the IPO early next year.”
Phil’s face soured and he looked at his watch impatiently. It seemed like he was done with me, but Duke apparently had more to say.
“Mr. Quinn.” Duke talked to people like they were a waste of his time. “I understand that you feel the need to assume a neutral position, but I am in no uncertain terms letting you know I couldn’t care less about your opinions on my sisters using company money for their ‘good Samaritan’ schemes.”
Duke Sturm was tall, about an inch taller than my own six feet, his skin more tanned than his sisters, and he was always dressed to the nines. And not in boring dark grays or navy blues. No, he took his place at the helm of a high-fashion empire seriously. Today he was wearing a velvet jacket in a burnt orange and a dark purple tailored shirt and pants. He was handsome and if he weren’t such a pain in my ass right now I’d actually appreciate his style.
But I could not play with this guy. “I understand that, sir.”
He nodded and his smirk literally made my entire body break out in goose bumps. He lifted a finger and pointed it right at my face. “If you see anything that’s not on the up-and-up, let me know.” A chill ran up my spine at his words. “No matter what my sisters think, this company is not actually the Mitzy and Muffy show. You focus on keeping this IPO on track and we will keep them in check.”
With that he turned around with Phil on his heels. For as much as neither Duke nor the twins had anything to do with their father’s bad decisions, they certainly didn’t seem to let bygones be bygones. There was malice there and people were going to get caught in the crossfire. People like Julia, and me.
* * *
It was one thing to say I needed to keep it together when it came to Julia when she wasn’t there and an entirely different thing when we were in the same room. I’d only just arrived at the after-school program site and my blood was already buzzing. I told myself to calm down as I made my way to her in the reception area of the foundation. She was in more casual clothes today. Jeans with a top and cardigan combo. Of course, it was Julia so there was still a lot of color. She had her hair pulled back into a puffy ponytail with gold hoops dangling from her ears. I couldn’t help the grin on my face by the time I reached her.
“Hey,” I said as I almost leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. It was a reflex from seeing her looking so familiar, like the embodiment of New York City. But this was not a kiss-hello situation, this was work, so at the last second I stopped, leaving us both in an awkward midair lean. I pulled back and offered my hand instead like a complete tool, but she rolled with it. “Thank you for arranging this so fast. I’m sorry I’m late.”
She gave my hand a long look, like she wasn’t totally sure I wouldn’t pull it back and leave her hanging again. “No problem.” She looked at her iWatch, then shook her head, a tiny smile on her lips. “Besides, you’re only like ten minutes late.”
“Where’s the suit jacket?” she asked, her eyes fixed on my bare forearms. I could feel the heat on my face and knew I was turning red.
“I thought I’d look more approachable to the kids if I wasn’t in it,” I explained, and felt extremely dumb as soon as the words came out of my mouth.
I pointed at the parking lot in the direction of my rental. “I can go get it.” Julia made a face at that, but I wasn’t sure what it meant. It was like she wanted to smile but was forcing herself to be serious. When she spoke, she couldn’t keep the amusement out of her voice.
“You sort of overthink things, don’t you?” It was more of a statement than a question, but I still didn’t know if she thought it was a good or a bad thing.
She wasn’t wrong. I could overthink things sometimes. My therapist said it was from growing up in a home when a wrong answer could get me yelled at or worse, and a father who was never happy with anything. This felt different though—I found that I liked Julia’s focus on me, especially if it involved one of those smiles that got me right in the gut. I turned to look at her and saw that she was still waiting for an answer.
“I can. But I also don’t want to disappoint the kids if you promised they’d get to see a real-life finance superhero.” I said it deadpan, so it took her a second before she cracked a smile. Those cheekbones popped and it was hard not to lean in and brush a kiss across one of them.
“You’re not funny.”
It would’ve been easier to believe if she wasn’t showing me all of her teeth at the moment. “I’m a little funny.” What the hell was this? Was I flirting?
Julia took another long look at my forearms and hiked a thumb over her shoulder. “We can head inside. The students start arriving at about four, so we’re in full swing already.”
I nodded as I followed her through a long hallway lined with doors. She pointed at a few of them that were closed.
“Those are the therapy rooms. We have about six therapists on-site and they see clients all week. We also have a couple of support groups. Those are weekly and usually it’s some kind of therapeutic model. We also have some for parents in the evenings.”
I nodded as I looked around. The walls were full of art and inspirational quotes and the far one had a mural with lots of flowers and birds. “That’s pretty.” She stopped right in front so we could take a look at it and pointed at some of the more colorful spots.
“Two local artists did this for us. The Sturm Foundation has great programs supporting the arts and two of their alumni offered to come and do it. They’re all flowers and birds indigenous to Latin America.” She beamed with pride at that. “The kids and families love it.”
I nodded as I leaned in to look at some of the flowers. “It’s beautiful art.”
“It is. We wanted to make the space bright.”
She pointed in the direction of two big doors. Through the window we could see kids in what looked like a huge gym. “That’s our all-purpose movement space. We have different kinds of classes in there, everything from yoga to martial arts. We use movement as part of our therapy.” She pushed the door and placed a finger over her mouth
. I expected it to be super loud but when we walked in there were two groups of about fifteen kids on each end of the gym doing what looked like yoga and meditation.
We stepped to the side, our backs pressed against the wall as we observed them working on their poses. “All our instructors are trained in working with trauma survivors and have adapted their classes.”
When she spoke, I felt the vibrations of her words all the way down to my feet. I felt so close to out of control whenever Julia was near. I’d spent so much time over the years getting as much of my life in check as I could. Especially in my relationships. I usually ran as fast as I could as soon as I felt like I was starting to need anyone too much. But with Julia, I just wanted more. To ask more, to say more.
“Deep breathing can be a real lifesaver for kids that need to get their emotions under control. It got me through the last couple years of high school.” I said it casually, even though usually giving away even the most minimal inkling about my past or my family was a hard no. I cleared my throat, still avoiding her eyes as I talked. “It’s great that you’re doing this with them. With poor kids, even when people are trying to help, the focus is always on food, or clothes, if they have a place to live. And don’t get me wrong—I know how necessary all those things are. It’s just nice to be seen as more than a problem to solve. For someone to remember you need oxygen in your lungs too, you know?”
I expected pity when she looked at me. I almost hoped for it because that way she would just become one more person who saw right through me and I could put the wall up.
She smiled instead, her eyes locked with mine. “We love a relaxation-technique enthusiast,” she assured me with a nod, and turned to open the door. She kept our speed brisk, her eyes on where she was taking me next.
I should’ve let it go, but it was like my mouth couldn’t stop if Julia was around. “Sorry for the overshare.”
She came to a dead stop and turned to give me a look that was meant to be stern but just made me want to run my fingers through her curls. “Are you kidding? I’m a social worker and Latina. Overshares are life.”
That pulled a surprised laugh out of me. She grinned in response, her expression smug, as if it was exactly what she was aiming for.
She started walking again and I quickly followed as she filled me in. “Seriously though, your observation was on point. Our program tries to address the material needs and educational needs as much as possible, but we work a lot on getting the kids to be more mindful and learn how to cope with the many stresses of their lives. Some of them are just dealing with too much.” She came to a stop in front of another door and we stood looking through the glass square into what looked like an art class.
“This is an art therapy group. All the kids in this one came across the border on their own and are living with foster parents or relatives. They are each working on a collage of what they left back home.”
By now I’d figured out that going into the rooms would be disruptive, which was why we just took a peek from the glass on the doors. I peered in to watch about ten kids of different shapes and sizes sitting at a big table topped with lots of crafting supplies, talking and sharing. Some were showing their creations to their friends as two adults milled around the room, keeping an eye on the group.
“You are doing great things for these kids, Julia,” I said sincerely, feeling almost emotional at how at ease the kids looked. How peaceful it was and the way there was something for everyone. It was like she’d thought of everything.
She tipped her head up to look at me, not smiling exactly, but she looked relaxed. Like she trusted I could clearly see what she was trying to show me. “The collages and the breathing, all that stuff matters, but mostly we just want them to have a safe space for a few hours a day. Someplace where their needs are listened to and taken seriously.” She shook her head as we stepped back from the door and she guided us down another hallway. “And don’t get me wrong, most of the caregivers and parents we work with are amazing and love and support their kids. There are just a lot of pressures in their lives. Life-and-death stuff sometimes, so we hold space for them here and we know that matters.”
“It does.” I had another overshare on the tip of my tongue, but thankfully Julia cut me off.
“You know what? Let’s go to the playground. We can talk some more out there.”
By the time we got out to a semi-enclosed space that seemed to be a climate-controlled playground, I’d gotten my feelings back on lock. I’d seen this type of space in Texas before. An outdoor area that they could keep somewhat cool in the summer months.
“This is nice,” I said, pointing at the climbing wall.
Julia beamed as we walked to a cluster of tables on one side. We passed a few kids as we went, and she stopped and said hello to each of them by name.
Once we were sitting, she handed over the folder she’d had in her hand. “Here are the figures and reports you requested, but if there’s anything else you need to know, I’m available.”
I was going to ask about the figures. I was going to ask about the reports. I was going to keep things as professional as possible. “I want to know what it is about this work that keeps you smiling.”
She seemed surprised at my question, but the way she set her shoulders told me she had a very good answer for me. And I couldn’t wait to hear it. “It’s where I found my voice, and believe me, I was dragged kicking and screaming.” She fluttered a hand in front of her face like she was trying to figure out a better way to explain. “My dad’s a social worker too.”
“Ah.” I definitely could not imagine wanting to follow in my own father’s footsteps.
She shook her head, laughing at my very serious tone. “It was annoying growing up with a therapist, but he’s also the most decent man I know. He is a warrior for those who need it, and along the way I discovered I wanted to do that too.” I nodded like I could relate and let her keep talking.
“And this is sort of a dream,” she twirled a finger in the air. “In the nonprofit world it’s almost unheard of to be able to work in a well-funded program, much less one with people who really get that kids need more than just a meal. So yeah, what we do changes lives, and I’m proud to be a part of it. Also my mom owns a hair salon in Forest Hills, so it was either social justice or Dominican blowouts for gentrifiers.”
We both busted up at that. We laughed so hard some of the kids looked at us like we were nuts.
I grinned as her laugh turned into a low chuckle, then pointed to the mass of curls framing her face. “Wow, a mom with a Dominican hair salon. This is a truly rebellious choice.”
She narrowed her eyes at that but the corners of her mouth tipped up too. “How are you aware of Dominican hair drama? You had a girl from the DR or something?” She kept her tone light but there was real curiosity there. Julia Ortiz wanted to know my business.
My hands tingled with the need to touch. To wrap a finger around one of those golden-brown coils and pull her in for a kiss. But I settled for what I could have: a bit more of her time.
“I was pretty close with my high school baseball coach. Spent a lot of time at his place.” I lifted a shoulder as if I wasn’t revealing a piece of me I rarely ever shared. “He’s Puerto Rican, but his wife is Dominican.”
“Oh.” Her eyes got big, because clearly there was a hell of a lot more to the story.
I averted my eyes, not feeling ready to reveal the more sordid parts of my story. They landed on a cluster of teens who were all huddled together watching something on a phone. They were grinning and bumping each other’s shoulders. Kids being kids. Them getting that was in a big part Julia’s doing.
And now here she was looking like hearing about me was the most important thing on her to-do list today. “I was at their place a lot when I was younger. His wife started going natural.” I said that while waving a hand over my head, like an ass. “There were a
lot of phone conversations with her mom and sisters about it. I got an education in taking women’s grooming seriously.”
She looked at me from under her lashes and I refused to even think it was anything more than the sun in her eyes.
“You’re an interesting man, Rocco Quinn.”
My heart had no business thumping against my chest like it was, and just as I was about to respond with something that would most likely put us fully out of the professional realm, one of the kids sat himself down next to Julia.
“Hey, Ms. Ortiz, there’s a new TikTok from that account you like.” It took her a second to get her game face on but once she was focused on her student, the spell was broken.
Julia had a job to do and so did I, and if we both wanted to keep them, we had to keep our focus off each other.
Chapter Seven
Julia
I can be professional with Rocco Quinn.
That had been my mantra since the site visit yesterday. With every interaction, that man got more charming and intriguing. He’d been in work mode for the most part, but a couple of times he went off script and the glimpses I got confirmed that the more I got to know him, the more Rocco could potentially wreck my entire life plan.
It was hard to tell what he’d thought about the programs in terms of the IPO but Gail had sounded less frazzled in our conference call this morning and had let it slip she’d had a long talk with the twins. So for now it was business as usual.
I’d passed on that message to our staff at the after-school program site and was feeling pretty good about us getting through this transition. So, I had a pep in my step as I made my way to my car. And when a dinner invitation from the group chat José had roped us all into appeared on the screen of my phone, I literally jumped for joy.
Here to Stay Page 6