Manhattan Mogul: A New York City Romance

by Tara Leigh

  Reina’s eyes widen. “Someone hurt you?”

  “No.” Nixie says.

  “Yes.” My answer comes as the same time and is equally emphatic.

  Celeste looks at the two of us and then at her sister, shifting to the edge of her seat. “This might be even juicier than our family drama.”

  Reina lets out a low laugh. “I don’t know. Ours is pretty tough to top.”

  Eva reaches out to cover Nixie’s hand with one of her own. “We’re all friends at this table. Maybe we can help.”

  Uncertainty is smeared across Nixie’s face, like greasy handprints defiling freshly polished silver, her lower lip trembling slightly. “Derrick is my ex-boyfriend. He’s not handling our breakup well.”

  Celeste stands up and retrieves the open bottles from the buffet. “Talk of ex-boyfriends calls for refills.”

  Tristan quirks a smile. “I think that’s our cue to leave the room.” He grabs his glass and looks at me. “You in?”

  I toss back the remains of my scotch and rise to my feet. “Hell, yes.”

  Tristan heads toward a terrace off the dining room. Here, there is a terrace or patio off every room, each with a priceless view of pink sand beaches and endless ocean waves. “Thanks for having us. It’s been nice to get away from the city.”

  “Anytime. Reina and I don’t get here often enough.” He strides to a mahogany bar and selects a bottle. “I hear you’re quite the traveler these days. Is our joint venture not enough to keep you busy?”

  “We’ve got that fund on lock. Solid investments, solid performance, people we trust handling the day-to-day. And you know how it is. Always looking for the next big thing.”

  “Always,” he echoes. “So, you want to tell me about the new deal you’re trying to put together?”

  My muted grunt disappears into the breeze. “What deal?”

  “You think your trip to Nebraska was a secret?” He slants me a dubious look.

  Out of habit, I swivel my head. Looking for anyone with ears.

  Tristan chuckles. “This isn’t Cipriani’s. No one’s going to overhear you, and we don’t hunt the same prey.”

  “Yeah, well, Duncan isn’t exactly the most willing seller.”

  “NetworkTech isn’t like your usual marks. He built a good company, he’s going to want a good offer.”

  I snort, lifting my glass. “You have no idea.”

  “That much?”

  “More.” Just when I’ve dipped my toes into the relationship pool, I might have to fuck it all up by finding someone to agree to a fake marriage. No way can I ask Nixie, not after what Derrick tried to pull. And Eva is just too complicated. I can’t do that to her, or the twins. I want NetworkTech, and entree into the Chinese market. But so far all my efforts to find a similar company to partner with my Hong Kong investment have come up short, and every day brings another possibility that Duncan will find an acceptable buyer.

  I stare out at the swelling sea, horizontal lines of white-capped waves frantically surging forward, only to crash and dissolve into harmless foam. I have enough money to walk away from Wall Street permanently if I want to. But why would I want to? I love what I do. “How about you, you ever consider slowing down now that another Bettencourt is on the way?”

  “You mean money moves at more than one speed?” Tristan hoists one shoulder up, lets it fall. “I’m going to work smarter, though. My days of staying in the office until midnight are over. After my mom died, I was basically raised by nannies. I’m not missing a fucking second of my kids life that I don’t have to. We’re renovating our home setup so we can stay in the loop whether we’re in the office or not. ”

  I grin at him. “You’re going to be a great dad.”

  “I fucking hope so, man. You know, I used to think about my next watch, or my next car, or my next vacation. Now,” he glances over my shoulder into the dining room, “All my scroll-envy is about baby-shit. Rocking chairs, slings—”

  “Hell, yeah. When the twins were little, I used to put whichever kid was crying loudest in the sling and walk around the block until they were asleep. Then I’d go back for the other one. Make sure you get two of them though—sometime Eva would use it and it was such a bitch to get all the straps adjusted.”

  Tristan shakes his head at me, laughing as he lifts his glass. “To baby shit.”

  I mimic the gesture and pour another slug scotch down my throat. “So, business good for your firm?” My question is rhetorical. The scandal Tristan and Reina weathered last year didn’t ruin his reputation as Wall Street’s Golden Boy, it burnished it.

  “Knock on wood,” Tristan says, rapping his knuckles on the bar. “I’d ask the same, but I know you’re tearing it up. Tell me what’s going on with Nixie?”

  I scowl. “That douchebag ex of hers—”

  He interrupts. “Who cares about her ex? I want to know about you two.”

  I choke on my drink. “First baby slings, now we need to gossip like girls, too?”

  “Don’t gimme that. You’re the one mooning over that redhead like an abandoned puppy. Please tell me she’s taken pity on you, at least once.”

  Heat rises above my collar. “It’s not like that.”

  “The hell it’s not. You were practically drooling at the beach this morning, and you were hungry all right, but not for food.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to only have eyes for your wife?” I grumble.

  “I’m married, not blind.” Tristan’s smile drops, and he becomes serious again. “You know, I kind of thought you and Eva would wind up getting back together eventually.”

  I turn away, plunging my free hand through my hair and tugging at the ends. “Why does everyone think that? She was Wyatt’s girl.”

  “She was yours first.” He shrugs again. “Eva hasn’t been with anyone else, and you’ve been with everyone else. Figured it was only a matter of time.”

  Tristan’s words come at me like the waves I’m staring into, the walls I’ve built around me disintegrating like wet sand. Tristan is only saying what I’ve been unwilling to admit, even to myself. The reason I’ve filled my nights, but never my bed, with an endless stream of women was to keep away from Eva. I haven’t wanted to get back together with her . . . but I haven’t wanted to get attached to anyone else, either. Because I believed that somehow, someway, we’d end up together.

  Until Nixie came along and showed me how it feels to want someone so badly, I’m damn near paralyzed by it. “No. Not happening.”

  Tristan looks at me strangely. “So why the reluctance with Nixie? Is it her ex?”

  I force down the well of jealousy that rises whenever I think about another man coming near Nixie. “He’s a creep, but that’s not the issue.” I take a deep breath, exhale it slowly. “When you and Reina got together, did everything just fall into place?”

  Tristan cracks a laugh. “No. Not by a long shot. There were roadblocks and detours, and a few times I was sure we crashed and burned. But in the end, it was all worth it.”

  Silence creeps in, each of us in our own heads. Mine is buzzing from alcohol and mounting frustration at not seeing a way through the bullshit littering the path between Nixie and me.

  “Hey, Nash,” Celeste yells from inside the house. “Come in here. I have an idea.”

  Rolling my shoulders to release the tension knifing through them, I set down my empty glass before Tristan can fill it again, and walk through the open doors.

  Eva and Celeste look like they’re ready to burst, and Nixie is pale beneath her newly acquired suntan. “It’s a biggie,” Eva adds.

  I plant my feet just inside the threshold. “What—”

  Celeste can’t wait. “You and Nixie are getting married!”

  Nixie

  I look down at my wine glass, wondering if it’s been laced with a hallucinogen. It looks fine. I pick it up and bring the rim to my nose, take a tentative sniff. Is there some way to know without sending it to a lab?

  Or maybe I’ve been dr
opped into an alternate universe.

  Setting the goblet down on a table scattered with the remains of a leisurely meal—Celeste waved away the staff when they attempted to clean up, insisting that they head home to take the rest of the day off after spending most of it cooking and serving—my eyes are drawn to Nash. Standing in the open doorway, he’s just a silhouette. Behind him, a neon pink sun sits low the horizon, its fiery rays drenching the picture perfect seascape in shades of rose and gold.

  Tristan claps a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Looks like we don’t even have to be in the room for major life decisions. Who knew?” He ambles over to his wife and plants a kiss on her lips, his hand curving possessively around her rounded belly. “Glad there are at least a few things you still need me for.”

  Celeste scrunches her nose. “Seriously, you two, I was hoping you might dial it down a notch now that you’re almost parents. The rest of us are getting a toothache just being near you.”

  Pulling my gaze from Nash, I turn toward Eva and just barely catch the look of naked envy she’s giving Reina. She covers it quickly, but I know what I’ve seen. Eva is a wonderful mother, but being a single parent, to twins no less, has taken a toll on her. She shushes Celeste. “Don’t listen to her. That baby in there is one lucky little boy.”

  Reina gives a contented smile. “Thank you, Eva.”

  Nash clears his throat from the other side of the room, rocking back on his heels as he crosses his arms. “Is there any point discussing the bomb you just dropped or can we chalk it up to too much turkey?”

  “What’s there to discuss? If you two get married, Nixie won’t have to spend the next ten months on the run from an ex who wants to marry her for access to her trust fund. I can’t believe you didn’t think of it yourselves.”

  From the look on Nash’s face, it’s clear he would never have come up with the idea on his own. Neither would I. “Eva, that’s really sweet, but I don’t think—”

  “You’re not worried Nash would go after your money too, right?”

  I shake my head. “No, of course not.” What I have is crumbs compared to Nash’s wealth.

  “With all the lawyers Nash has on staff, I’m sure he could have a pre-nup drawn up in no time. And when you get divorced, you’d both walk away with whatever you brought in.” Eva refills her empty glass, some of the wine spilling onto the delicate lace tablecloth. She doesn’t notice, but I can’t take my eyes off the growing stain, curling my hands into fists to keep from attacking it with my napkin. What if it never comes out? What if all those yards of embroidered lace are ruined?

  Not every mistake can be fixed.

  “So, not only do you have us getting married, you’re already planning our divorce?” Nash’s voice is curt, abrasive.

  “Hey, it’s not called a marriage of convenience for nothing. You get married, Nixie gets to fulfill the terms of her parents’ will, and her jerk of an ex will realize he’s never going to get his hands on her money and can slink off to find another woman with deep pockets. It’s a win/win.”

  I swallow the knot of unease that’s lodged itself in my throat. “Eva, I really don’t think marriage is the solution to my problem.”

  Celeste giggles. “It works for kings and queens, why not a Knight?”

  Tristan lifts one of the bottles on the table and peers through the tinted glass.” Jesus, how many of these have you gone through?”

  “Too many,” Eva admits. “But I’m serious. It’s a good idea, and not just for Nixie. Who knows, maybe Nash will find it easier to commit on his second trip down the aisle.”

  I nearly choke. Forget about our wedding and divorce, Eva is already planning Nash’s second marriage? A shot of jealousy penetrates my stomach and explodes inside me, the turkey dinner I’ve eaten threatening to revolt. On the other side of the table Nash is as still as a block of granite, directing a glare at Eva so intense I half expect her to melt. She doesn’t, though. Her stare is just as heated. I look back and forth between them, knowing they’re having an entire silent conversation that none of us are privy to.

  “Nash will walk down the aisle when he’s good and ready, and not before.” Speaking in the third person, his tone is clipped.

  “Fine.” Eva shrugs. “Nixie doesn’t seem inclined to marry you either. Celeste, why don’t you ask your brother?”

  “Bryce? Honestly, it’s not a bad idea. His agent has been on him to settle down. He can’t seem to stay with one team for more than a few years and is constantly getting into trouble with his sponsors.” Celeste pulls up a picture on her phone and slides it across the table at me. “He’s my brother so I think he looks like a troll, but I’ve heard I’m in the minority.”

  Reina laughs. “He’s only my half-brother, so I can tell you that having Bryce as a husband wouldn’t be much of a hardship.”

  No way am I reaching for the phone. I’m not marrying anyone, let alone a man I’ve never met.

  There has to be something in the wine. Has to be.

  “Nixie is not marrying Bryce.” Nash squints at the phone like it’s on fire.

  “Full disclosure, I’ve never met the guy. But I trust Celeste and Reina. I’m sure he’s—”

  Nash cuts Eva off. “Not happening.”

  I want to interrupt, but my throat feels like it’s closing.

  She doesn’t back down. “You hardly have a say in this, Nash. It’s up to Bryce and Nixie. A fake wedding is the simplest solution for Nixie, and it sounds like a wife would be good for Bryce’s image, too.”

  Nash crosses his arms, the knot of his Adam’s apple bobbing low. “If anyone’s going to marry Nixie, it’s going to be me.”

  A frown creases my forehead as I finally find my voice. “I think we need to chalk this conversation up to too much wine and sunshine.” I stand, pushing back my chair and gathering up plates and empty glasses.

  Nash’s voice stops me before I leave the room. “Maybe Eva’s right. Maybe we should have the biggest wedding Wall Street’s ever seen.”

  I swivel, the nerves in my spine shuddering. “Have you lost your mind?”

  “Not at all. They’re right, a wedding is the most painless way to get rid of Derrick.”

  Painless for who? I’m not opposed to marriage. In fact, I like the idea of finding that one perfect person and building a life together. When I find him, I have no doubt I’ll be overjoyed at the prospect. But this, what Eva and Celeste—and now Nash—are proposing, is an insult to what should be a serious, well-intentioned commitment between two people who love each other.

  I shake my head. “The seventeen hundreds are calling, they want their wedding back.”

  Pale olive eyes bear down on me. “Derrick isn’t going away. If he really needs the money, you’re not safe.”

  Reina stands, quickly followed by Tristan. “I think we should let the two of you work this out.” There’s a chorus of agreement, and a minute later it’s just Nash and me in the room. I drop back into my chair and glare at him. The man is the reason lust was invented for God’s sake. I can barely look at him without wanting to jump into his arms . . . but marry him? Gorgeous, successful, rich—it will hardly be a marriage of equals.

  Nash clasps his hands together. “I have the means to dig into the Attwood’s business and completely destroy—”

  “I already told you that my father built that company. You’re not destroying it just because of Derrick.”

  “Fine. I can kick Derrick’s ass, tell him if he comes anywhere near you there will—”

  I recoil. “You are not hurting him, Nash. Pappi took me in when I had nothing and no one and you’re not going to hurt his son. Your fists of fury had better stay in your pockets.”

  Those dark, winged eyebrows climb up his forehead. “Fists of fury?”

  I shrug. “I might have watched a few too many WWE fights growing up in a house with two guys.”

  “So you won’t let me touch Derrick, or his father’s company.” He sighs. “I hate to admit that Eva’s righ
t, but a temporary marriage would solve the issue. Think about it—we could eliminate your problem with one piece of paper.”

  This is not exactly how I imagined my future husband proposing. “How temporary?”

  “A few months. Just long enough for the executor of your parents’ will to hand over all monies due you and set up accounts Derrick can’t possibly get his hands on.”

  “What would you get out if this?” I ask, cocking my head to the side and narrowing wary eyes. “We slept together once. Is that what you’re looking for—a convenient lay?”

  I regret the words the second they leave my mouth. They’re crass and insulting. But still, I don’t take them back. Everything about this proposed arrangement feels wrong. And like it’s ruining any chance we might have had at building something real.

  Nash’s chiseled jaw clenches, a vein pulsing at his temple. “Absolutely not. If you want a marriage in name only, you’ve got it.”

  That isn’t what I want. Not at all. “But why? Why are you going out of your way for me?”

  “Hasn’t anyone ever warned you— never look a gift horse in the mouth?” His eyes glint at me like shattered bits of sea glass and my gaze drops to his full lips, remembering with a flush exactly where they’ve been, what they’ve done. How good they’d felt. That mouth is a gift, all right.

  Stop it, Nixie. Focus. “Yeah. But I’ve always preferred the phrase, ‘better the devil you know than the devil you don’t.’”

  “Well, the road to hell is paved with good intentions,” Nash says, throwing back another proverb. “You might as well enjoy the trip.”

  Chapter 17

  Nixie

  Heaving myself into a seated position, I groan as I swing my feet over the side of the mattress. Did last night really happen?

  Outside, it’s another gorgeous day in paradise. The sky an endless swath of azure blue stretching over a sparkling turquoise sea, not a cloud in sight. Golden pink sand for miles and miles.

  As I stare out at the pristine beach I see Nash jog toward the shoreline, heading away from the house. Good. I’m not quite ready to face him yet.