by Tara Leigh
And now you may kiss your bride.
I pulled Nixie to me and claimed her lips as if they were mine, as if they had always been mine. Through a dense love-sick fog, I vaguely heard the reverend announce us as man and wife, Mr. And Mrs. Nash Knight. There was a rumble of applause and I pulled away, just slightly. “Well, Mrs. Knight, would you like to take a walk with me?”
“I’d love to, Mr. Knight.”
Together we turned to face our guests, and took our first steps down what would be a long path toward forever. I saw my parents in the front row, looking so happy. Behind them sat Reggie and Luca, their entire row filled with boys and girls from the Center. Across the aisle was Paul Attwood, who was smiling even as he wiped at his eyes.
There were people missing, too. My brother. Nixie’s parents. But here, in this church, I could feel their presence, their approval. Their love.
As Nixie’s maid of honor, Eva stood to the side, between Madison and Parker, our flower girl and ring bearer.
I wasn’t sure if Eva still believed our relationship was merely temporary, but it didn’t matter. Nixie and I were meant for each other, and Eva was sure to realize it soon enough. In the meantime, I would be what I had always been to Eva, a good friend.
Last night, in lieu of a bachelor party—the past ten years had been one long bachelor party as far as I was concerned—I’d asked for an intimate family dinner. Me and Nixie, my parents, Paul Attwood, and of course Eva and the twins. Rather than book a table at a formal restaurant, I called up a local Italian place well known for family style dining, and ordered heaping platters of food for delivery. Greta arranged everything in the dining room, and took the rest of the evening off. It was casual and festive, and my previously sterile bachelor pad was filled with delicious smells and happy laughter. And so much joy.
My parents and I sat down together and had a long-overdue talk. It turned out that I’d been so wrong, about so many things. The heartbreak I’d seen on their faces wasn’t only because they lost Wyatt, it was because they believed they had lost me, too.
I’d been living as if I had a finite amount of love in my heart, and doling it out like a miser. But if Scrooge could change his ways, so could I. Through her tears, my mother whispered, “Tomorrow I won’t just gain a daughter, I’m going to get my son back, too.”
I thought I was so strong, so invincible, because of my financial success and the time I spent training and fighting. I wasn’t.
Terrified of loss, I never risked more than money or a few bruises.
What I really needed to fight was my own fear. There were no guarantees in life, but I still needed to get in the ring. If anything ever happened to my bride, it would split me in two, but spending the rest of my life without her, that was no life at all.
One day, hopefully soon, Nixie and I would fill our home with children of our own. The twins would always be my family, and I trusted Eva enough to know that whomever she brought into our lives would be family too.
Family.
I’d finally realized how much those six little letters could mean. Everything.
Nixie
It was a strange thing to be standing up, to be walking, when the bones in my body had turned to mush. And yet somehow I managed to put one foot in front of the other, my quick steps keeping pace with Nash’s steady stride. Nash Knight, my husband.
I wasn’t sure if I was smiling or not, because my face was numb. Really, the only thing I felt was my heart. So full, it was a wonder it hadn’t burst.
We were in St. Paul’s Chapel—The Little Chapel That Stood. There was no place on earth I’d rather be.
It couldn’t be mere coincidence that Nash and I had both had the trajectory of our lives irrevocably altered by the same tragedy, and that we’d met on its anniversary. Too much of a coincidence to believe that my parents and Nash’s brother didn’t have a hand in our relationship from day one.
Thinking back, that day had been the one time I couldn’t bear to enter the doors of this church. Instead I’d found Nash Knight. My very own sanctuary.
I glanced around, absorbing every detail so I could relive these sacred moments again in the future. The gleaming panes of mullioned windows, cut-glass chandeliers suspended from the high, curved ceiling, the angelic voices of a choir that could have come from heaven itself. As a nod to the season, the handsome wooden pews had been festooned with evergreen garlands, each end sporting a small wreath decorated with sprigs of holly and a festive silver bow.
Each guest had been offered mugs of mulled wine as they came in from the cold, and the smell of cinnamon and cloves hung in the air inside the church. Outside, a dusting of snow covered the city, just enough to make the gritty urban jungle look like a scene from a Charles Dickens novel. My happily ever after ending was as perfect as a storybook—but the beauty of it was knowing that it just a beginning. The beginning of my life with Nash.
After we made it back down the aisle, Nash led me into a small room at the back of the church, so that we could have a few moments of privacy before heading to the reception.
He closed the door and for a moment I drank him in, every vibrant, volatile inch of the man I’d grown to love. My White Knight. My Prince Charming. My impossibly sexy, outrageously stubborn, undeniably indomitable Nash.
He could be all those things, and it didn’t mean that I would forever be his damsel in distress. Nash may have saved me from two street punks, but I’d rescued him from an empty life. Of course, I didn’t realize then that I was saving myself from the same fate, too.
Loving Nash, being loved by Nash, had birthed a light, airy bubble of joy inside my body. Somehow it had squeegeed its way through me, wiping away those tenacious feelings of being unwanted and unworthy, leaving behind a sense of wonder and confidence at the endless possibilities of our future together. I didn’t need a castle surrounded by a moat, or my own freedom tower to hide behind.
All I needed was Nash.
As if he could read my thoughts, Nash’s expression was reverent, his eyes piercing mine as I stood in the center of the room. A flush broke above the beaded bodice of my wedding dress, heating my cheeks. The air between us felt thin, and I took a quick breath as Nash leaned against the door, staring at me. Staring into me. Loving me.
“We did it,” he said simply, his expression a mix of pride and exultation that was an adult replica of Parker’s as he surveyed the elaborate sand city we built in Bermuda.
I glanced down at the thick band of diamonds encircling my left finger, the same color as the center stone that had been moved to my right. A surge of euphoria pulsed through my bloodstream. Now I couldn’t lift a hand without being reminded of Nash. “Looks that way.”
He crossed the room in two strides, his arms wrapping around my waist and holding me tight, twin flames of love and desire shining from eyes that had cleaved through my heart. I raised my hands, curving my palms against Nash’s chiseled jaw. “I can’t believe you’re my husband.”
“Believe it. Because you, Nixie Knight, are my whole world.”
Acknowledgments
My husband (then boyfriend) and I watched the towers fall from my apartment on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, while we were just starting our second year at Columbia Business School. I had just completed a summer internship at Deutsche Bank, in a skyscraper adjacent to the World Trade Center that was irreparably damaged by the collapse of the South Tower. We both lost mentors and friends that day, and mourned with those who lost loved ones.
9/11 was a turning point in so many ways, especially for those of us living in or near Manhattan at the time. For me, Deal Breaker was a way of creating a Happily Ever After for two people who were still struggling, even after all these years. New Yorkers are a resilient lot, and it warms my heart to hear the many real life stories of redemption that were built from rubble. Never Forget.
The dog in this book, Kismet, is based on my own rescue puppy, Pixie. (Yes, this is how Noelle became Nixie.) The wonderful rescue organiz
ation that brought Pixie into our lives is Goofy Foot Dog Rescue, and if you would like to welcome a dog into your family, or donate to their organization, please visit their website: http://www.goofyfootrescue.org. And if you would like to see more pictures of Pixie (and who wouldn’t?) please sign up for my newsletter at https://goo.gl/394ppn—she’s my writing buddy!
A huge thank-you to my agent extraordinaire, Jessica Alvarez of BookEnds Literary Agency. Your critiques and career guidance are invaluable!
To my editor, Eileen Rothschild, thank you for seeing the potential in this series and inviting me to join the St. Martin’s Press family of authors. You and Tiffany Shelton have been a dream to work with. Many thanks also to the rest of the SMP team: Marissa, Titi, Angus Johnston, the talented cover designers, and everyone else who has played a role in bringing the Billionaire Bosses (and the women who love them) to life.
The Billionaire Bosses series would never have been written at all without the Romance Writers of America. On my way home from their annual conference in 2015, filled with ideas and enthusiasm, I sketched out an idea for a series about the heirs of Wall Street royalty who were both helped and hindered by their legacies. With Jessica and Eileen’s help, this became Billionaire Bosses.
Moments by Andrea, thank you for the fabulous headshot. And Heather Herve (and her lovely interns), thank you for the lovely profile in GoodMorningWilton.
There are several authors who have been beyond generous with their time and expertise. Alessandra Torre, your invaluable website www.alessandratorreink.com is a must for every new author, and you have built a virtual cheering section via Facebook. Scarlett Cole, a fellow SMP author, thank you for all the time you spent with me at RWA17 explaining your process and generously offering advice. The writing team of Riley Mackenzie, you guys are amazing and I’m so glad we’re friends. And many thanks to my fellow authors of CTRWA!!
Thank you to Jill McCormick and Joan Gibbons, for being such great cheerleaders through Facebook—I love seeing all your posts of support!!
Amy S, thank you for letting me bounce ideas off you when I got stuck in the plotting stage—you were a huge help.
I am lucky to have a great group of girlfriends surrounding me. My CSHHS ladies—and in particular, Robin, who forgives me for ignoring her calls when I’m writing. And my favorite blondes: Devon, Jessica, Sarah M, and Sarah T. I adore you all! To my friends from the Wilton Newcomers Club, Columbia Business School’s Cluster B, and RHCC, your support and encouragement have meant the world to me.
Grandma, you left me nearly twenty years ago, and not a day goes by that I don’t miss you. For any smokers reading this—put the cigarette down. Think of the people in your life who will one day watch you struggle to breathe, and when you lose that battle, will miss you desperately.
Thank you to my parents for your continued encouragement and for being great grandparents.
Transitioning from writing as a hobby to writing as a career has been an adjustment. Stephen, thank you for stepping up with the kids and supporting my dreams. I love you. Logan, Chloe, and Pierce, thank you for being so considerate of my writing time. I am blessed to be your mother.
And a huge, huge thank-you to my readers, bloggers, and reviewers. Without you and your love for sexy stories well told, writing them wouldn’t be nearly as fulfilling.
About the Author
Author photograph © Moments by Andrea Photography
Tara Leigh attended Washington University in St. Louis and Columbia Business School in New York, and worked on Wall Street and Main Street before “retiring” to become a wife and mother. When the people in her head became just as real as the people in her life, she decided to put their stories on paper. Tara currently lives in Fairfield County, Connecticut with her husband, children and fur-baby, Pixie.
Visit her at www.TaraLeighBooks.com, or on Twitter @TaraLeighBooks.
You can sign up for email updates here.
Also by Tara Leigh
Penthouse Player
Thank you for buying this Swerve ebook.
To receive special offers, bonus content, and info on new releases and other great reads, sign up for our newsletters.
Or visit us online at us.macmillan.com/newslettersignup
For email updates on the author, click here.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
EPILOGUE
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Tara Leigh
Copyright Page
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
DEAL BREAKER. Copyright © 2017 by Tara Leigh. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.stmartins.com
Cover photographs: man © kiuikson/Shutterstock.com; skyline © Taiga/Shutterstock.com
ISBN 978-1-250-13851-4 (ebook)
First Edition: November 2017
Our eBooks may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at 1-800-221-7945, ext. 5442, or by e-mail at [email protected].