Manhattan Mogul: A New York City Romance

by Tara Leigh

  “I’m feeling like—” He breaks off. Swallows. Glances out the window. Blinks. Then, finally, he faces me once more. That look of vulnerability is back. But more than that, there’s an earnestness to him I’ve never seen before. “I love you, Nixie. That’s what I’m feeling. I fucking love you.”

  My heart reverberates with shock, sending a tremor though my entire body. “I—”

  But he cuts me off. “You don’t have to say it back. I know this wedding is a means to an end for you. That if we turn it into anything more, we’ll only complicate things.”

  Nash merely repeats what I’ve been thinking. But it sounds worse coming from his mouth than it does inside my head. So much worse.

  I’m not even sure what to say, except that it will include I love you, too. Surely we can figure everything out, together.

  But there’s no time. The door opens, a rush of cold air invading our warm cocoon.

  Nash steps outside, extending a hand to help me down. I hesitate for a moment, wishing desperately for a few more minutes with him in private. I want to pour my heart out to Nash, now. But I don’t want to rush, either.

  I need time.

  I want forever.

  And maybe, just maybe, that’s exactly what I’ll get.

  So I take Nash’s hand and slide to the curb, where a line of painted cast iron lawn jockeys salute us from the sidewalk.

  With my heels, the top of my head is nearly to his chin, his mouth that much closer to mine. For a moment, I think Nash will kiss me again and I lean into him, his hands running up and down my back in slow, reassuring strokes. But instead of a kiss, he says, “I want you to have a nice time tonight. Just be yourself.”

  Myself. I’m not even sure who that is anymore. My life has been a hurricane, especially lately. But right now, staring into Nash’s smoky gaze, buffeted from the blustery wind by his wide shoulders, it feels like I’m standing dead-center in the eye of the storm. There is calm, and quiet. And above, arching over us like a rainbow, are the words he said in the car. I dredge up a cautious smile. “I’ll try.”

  Nash’s stare intensifies. He cups my chin, his thumb sweeping over my lower lip.“Can I come back to the suite after dinner?”

  “No FaceTime tonight?” I tease.

  “Oh, I’ll be spending plenty of time with this face.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “And this mouth. And . . .” He kisses my lips, then nibbles along my jaw to my neck.

  “Is this a negotiation?” The electric current between us is a palpable thing, scrambling the rational side of my brain and making it impossible to think clearly.

  He lifts his head, one dark eyebrow arched. “Am I winning?”

  His hands slide to my waist, butterflies fluttering beneath his fingers. I’m drowning in a sea of want. “You don’t fight fair.”

  He flashes that cocky, confident smile he wears so well. “I play to win, Nixie. Fairness is a concept I left behind in kindergarten.”

  With one last kiss, he leads me across the sidewalk to the famed restaurant’s entrance and we sweep into the sumptuous New York landmark together.

  I’ve never been to the 21 Club before, and we’re escorted past an elegant bar with rich leather stools embellished by polished brass nailheads, then down a steep staircase and through a narrow corridor, and finally through a thick stone door into an imposing wine cellar. An older man wearing glasses and a tweed sport coat is already seated at the room’s only table. He stands, holding out his hand. “Thought it would be best to meet privately.”

  I glance at Nash through lowered lashes, but he has his billionaire businessman mask firmly in place and his expression is impossible to read. He nods and they shake hands. “Best spot in the house.”

  “And this must be your fiancée.” He turns to me with a fatherly grin on his face. I like him immediately.

  Nash puts a hand on my waist. “Nixie, this is Mack Duncan.”

  The man grasps my hand warmly with both of his. “It’s a pleasure to meet the woman who finally captured the Black Knight of Wall Street.”

  Nash

  Nixie and Duncan hit it off immediately, their conversation flowing from one topic to another without being stilted or uncomfortable—which is a good thing because I can barely string two words together.

  Nixie is gorgeous in jeans and a t-shirt, but she’s downright breathtaking in a pair of fuck-me stiletto boots and an outfit that’s somehow soft and structured at the same time. If Nixie hadn’t stopped me, I would’ve blown off dinner without a second thought.

  It’s only been a few months since I met Nixie, but in that time she’s somehow changed everything about I knew about the man I thought I was.

  I don’t want to live alone anymore. I don’t want to fuck random women anymore. I don’t want to use work as an substitute for having a personal life anymore.

  I do want more, though. More of Nixie. More from Nixie.

  But every time she moves her hand, the diamond on her finger sends shards of light through my skull.

  Taunting me.

  Reminding me that, despite my very real feelings for Nixie, the only real thing about our relationship is that damned diamond.

  I dropped a bomb on her in the car. I love you. I said it because it’s true. And when she didn’t immediately say it back, when she just blinked a few times, looking confused and surprised and even a little concerned, I quickly blurted something about not expecting her to feel the same.

  I can’t take any more lies. Especially a pity, I love you, too.

  I’m going to earn Nixie’s love. No matter how long it takes. And I can’t fucking wait to get back to the suite and get started.

  After two interminable hours, Duncan takes a last hearty swallow of his after-dinner coffee and I subtly extend my Amex to the waiter hovering nearby.

  “Well, it looks like I was wrong about you,” Duncan says. “I guess you aren’t just a charmer, chasing skirts and companies with no concern for either. The love of a good woman has a way of makin’ a man’s head straight.”

  Nixie laughs. “I don’t know about that. I think Nash was pretty level-headed before he met me.”

  “I think you’re wrong. Did Nash tell you—”

  Time slows down. Or maybe it’s just my brain, speeding up. Either way, the impact of what Duncan is about to say slams into me. Fuck. Why didn’t I realize this before? It’s Nixie finding out about Scott from my mother instead of me all over again.

  I never told Nixie about my first meeting with Duncan because there was no explicit quid pro quo. He never said, If you get married, I will sell you my company.

  Sure, at first I took it a little more seriously. But I’ve been looking for a company to fill the same purpose as NetworkTech for months now, and my team is putting together an acquisition proposal as we speak. I don’t need Duncan’s company.

  But I do need Nixie.

  I jump in. “We shouldn’t bore Nixie with the details of our first meeting.”

  Duncan nods. “You’re probably right.” My relief evaporates when he continues. “I told my kids about it over Thanksgiving, though. Said I met a man who would probably take NetworkTech in directions I couldn’t even imagine, but I didn’t have it in me to sell to him.”

  Nixie leans forward, her face open and interested. “Really?”

  Fuck. Me.

  “And that’s what I said to your fiancé, too, back when he came to see me in Nebraska. That if he wanted my company, I needed to know he was serious, settled.”

  I watch as Nixie processes Duncan’s words, dread congealing in my bones. “Married,” she breathes, the color slowly draining from her face.

  “Well, to be fair, I don’t think you were that explicit,” I say to Duncan, before turn pleading eyes on Nixie. “He called me a Wall Street whiz kid, said he couldn’t take anyone who tomcats around seriously.”

  Duncan grins, clapping me on the back with a meaty hand. “Yeah, but you knew what I meant. If a man can’t commit to one woman, how can h
e commit to a business, am I right?” He grins at Nixie, completely oblivious to the grave he’s digging for me.

  “Right,” she says softly, disappointment clouding her features.

  Duncan speaks up again. The man needs a damn muzzle. “I know it’s late, but why don’t we go back to your office and hammer out a few details before we get the lawyers involved?”

  “Actually, I think—”

  This time, Nixie interrupts. “No, that’s fine,” she says, balling up the napkin in her lap and standing. “I’m actually really tired. You should go, Nash. I’d rather just head straight to bed.” The alone is unspoken but obvious.

  Nixie walks around me to plant a kiss on Duncan’s cheek. “It was lovely meeting you.”

  “The pleasure was all mine,” he beams. “I promise I’ll send him back to you very soon.”

  The smile Nixie lobs my way is as fake as the cast iron jockeys outside the restaurant. “No need. He’s all yours.”

  Chapter 20

  Nixie

  Nash is no better than Derrick. Dirty liars, both of them.

  Back in Bermuda, Nash deliberately let me believe his trip down the aisle was out of the goodness of his heart. If he told me about Mack Duncan’s conditions, I would have been fine with it. After all, it’s only fair. I get my inheritance. He gets NetworkTech.

  But he didn’t say a word.

  And last night, he said three words in particular that nearly had me convinced me that our fake relationship is real. That we’re a real couple. I love you.

  Another lie.

  One more shouldn’t make a difference. There have been so many, after all.

  But it does. It makes all the difference in the world.

  I left the Holtsmann two hours ago, hoping to wander the city alone with my tumultuous thoughts, but of course Jay was right outside my door. Does the man ever sleep?

  At least Nash stayed away. I’m not ready to deal with him. Yet.

  We planned to apply for our marriage license later this afternoon, and I don’t think I can go through with it. Why bother? I’ll just be trading one bad situation for another.

  I’m not in the mood to shop, but I find myself walking through the revolving door of the iconic Disney store in Times Square. Christmas is almost here, and regardless of what I decide to do about Nash, I want his niece and nephew to have a gift under their tree from me.

  I find the perfect bedazzled princess dress and tiara for Madison easily, though I have a harder time with Parker. I’m trying to decide between a Mickey train conductor costume and a castle building set when I feel the buzz of my phone from inside my coat.

  I’m tempted to ignore it. It’s probably Nash, who I’m not ready to talk to yet. But in case it’s about Kismet—not knowing how long I would be out, I asked one of the porters to take her on a walk for me—I side-step a little boy with a light saber in each hand and reach into my pocket.

  The text opens, and I squint at the image filling my screen. It’s not Kismet. It’s outdoor ice rink, filled with skaters. I enlarge the photo. Wollman Rink, I think. In Central Park.

  Another picture pops up—this one a close-up of Parker and Madison, sharing a kid-sized walker, sporting helmets and huge grins. My stomach twists. I’m really going to miss those kids.

  But who’s sending me these photos? The number doesn’t even show up.

  It can’t be Eva or Nash, because their numbers are programmed into my phone. I frown over my screen, trying to come up with an explanation. Maybe Nash’s parents are back in New York?

  Me: the kids look so happy, thx 4 sending the pics! Who is this?

  Unknown: Think, Noelle

  A chill races down my spine and I gasp.

  “Everything okay?”

  Forcing the horror from my face, I look up at Jay. “Of course. Just a cute photo.” Dropping my phone in my pocket, I straighten. “Do you happen to know where the ladies room is?”

  As soon as there’s a door between us, I pull my phone back out.

  Me: What the hell r u doing?

  Unknown: U don’t appreciate pics of ur fiancé’s niece and nephew?

  My stomach plummets.

  Me: Leave Nash’s family alone

  Unknown: Sure

  Unknown: If u leave Nash

  Is Derrick really threatening Madison and Parker if I don’t end my engagement to Nash?

  I start a new text, my fingers moving furiously over the screen.

  Me: Lets meet

  Unknown: Ditch ur babysitter and come 2 Wollman

  Now I just have to figure out how to shake off Jay.

  I splash cold water on my cheeks, then examine my face in the mirror. My skin is flushed, my eyes glassy and wide. I look feverish. Good. Hopefully it will work in my favor.

  I rush out of the bathroom, dodging a pregnant woman carrying a crying toddler, and hurry over to where Nash’s driver is waiting just a few feet away. “I’m not feeling well.”

  His mouth tightens. “I’ll take you right home.”

  “Can you just get me a bottle of water first?” At Jay’s reluctant expression, I squeeze his thick forearm and begin backing away. “Uh oh. I think I need to go again. Would you mind finding a vending machine or something, and I’ll meet you right back here in a few minutes?”

  Inside the bathroom, the toddler’s screams have quieted to a nasal whine, interspersed with hiccups. I send the woman a sympathetic smile and then peek out the door again. Jay is gone.

  Crossing my fingers, I pull my hood up over my head and dart out of the ladies room. When I spot Jay taking the escalator, I head straight to the elevator. I have no idea where he’s going to get a bottle of water, my only concern is staying out of his sight long enough to grab a cab. No doubt he’ll be on the phone to Nash in a hot minute if he notices me sneaking off, and I need to meet Derrick away from Jay’s protective presence.

  With my heart in my throat, I blend into a large family and walk straight through the front door with them. For once, I’m grateful to be about the same height as a thirteen-year-old boy. Luck is on my side again when a cab pulls to the curb in front of the Disney store and dislodges a man about Nash’s age, probably shopping for his kids. I jump in just as Jay barrels through the door, a thunderous expression on his face. “Wollman Rink,” I yell. “Hurry, please.”

  The blocks tick by agonizingly slowly as I stare out the window. The bright day has turned overcast, and now the festive window displays look more sinister than seductive. I’m practically vibrating with the need to find Derrick and get him away from Madison and Parker. He’d never do anything to hurt innocent children . . . would he?

  The truth is, I don’t know what Derrick is capable of anymore. Instead of cutting his losses, Derrick’s instinct is to double down, to bet everything he has rather than quit the game.

  At times, his appetite for risk works in his favor. But, more often than not, his losses are enormous.

  If Derrick believes hurting Eva’s twins will allow him to clear his debts and gamble again, I wouldn’t put anything past him.

  The cab finally draws up outside the entrance to Central Park. I shove cash through the Plexiglass partition and jump out of the backseat. It’s been a few years since I’ve been up this way, but I remember the rink is about a two minute walk from this entrance. Running, I make it through the footpath in less than sixty seconds. I quickly scan the ice, but I don’t see Madison or Parker.

  “They’ve already headed to the carousel.” Derrick’s voice is gruff, and coming from behind me.

  I spin around to face him. “How do I know you didn’t do something to them?”

  He shrugs. “I guess you don’t.”

  From inside my coat pocket, my phone buzzes. I ignore it. “Derrick, so help me, if you did anything to two little kids—”

  A sour smile twists his lips. “This place would be crawling with cops if they went missing, Noelle.” I look around, unconvinced. “The teachers rounded a whole bunch of kids up, announced t
hat they were going to the carousel. We can walk over there if you want.”

  I shake my head, believing him. There’s no way I’m going to bring Derrick anywhere near the twins.

  “You really think I’d hurt them, huh?” Derrick’s hands are shoved into his pockets, his coat unbuttoned as a cold wind rushes through the skyscrapers rising up all around us.

  “I don’t know what you’re capable of anymore, Derrick.” It’s the truth.

  He blinks. Once, twice. His dark eyes appraising me. “Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.”

  My phone buzzes again, drawing Derrick’s gaze downward. “That you?”

  “It’s not important.”

  “You tell Knight where you were going?”

  “No,” I say.

  Derrick’s face darkens as he grabs me by my arm, squeezing tight. “Let’s go.”

  “Ow!” I try jerking my arm away, but Derrick’s hold only grows tighter. In my mind, I run through various moves Nash taught me, debating whether the situation warrants using one of them.

  “Give me your phone,” he demands.

  My eyes dart around, wondering if someone might intervene, but the sun has slipped behind thick clouds and the already cold afternoon is now bitter. The few people still outside are hunched over, their heads ducked down to avoid the wind. Once again, I try pulling away. “Derrick, stop it.”

  He holds out a hand. “Phone.”

  Ignoring the pain in my arm, I try a different tack. Softening my voice, I force a smile onto my face and put my free hand against Derrick’s chest. “I’m cold. How about we find a coffee shop and talk. Like we used to, remember?”

  Derrick’s grip loosens, his hand sliding up my arm to curve around the back of my neck, fingers threading into my hair to grip my skull. Too hard.

  “Oh, I remember more than that, Noelle. I remember the scared, sad little girl you were when you first came to live with us. I remember lying awake nights, listening to you cry in the next room, and thinking of ways to make you smile the next day. I remember the day you didn’t look like a little girl anymore, and lying awake nights for a very different reason. And I remember when we started sneaking into each other’s rooms, when you became my whole world.”