“Caribbean vineyard owners. I love it,” said Margaret, crossing her legs and taking a sip of seltzer water as she sat down on the couch beside Alice. “I’m in.”

“I haven’t even outlined the proposal yet,” Alice scoffed, staring at Margaret as she accepted a cup of cappuccino from Priscilla.

“I don’t care. I love it too,” said Priscilla, sitting down in a chair across from Margaret as she cradled a sleeping Theo in her arms. “If Meggie’s in, I’m in.”

“You’re both crazy,” said Alice. “All I said was that I might know of a vineyard in the Caribbean that needs investors.”

“I know you well enough to know you wouldn’t even mention it to us unless you thought it was a good deal,” said Priscilla. “Besides, Shane filled me in.”

“Yes. Not to mention, unlike you,” said Margaret, “I have been following the developments in Bahía de Plata for two years now and kicking myself that I wasn’t in on the ground floor.”

Alice had e-mailed her sisters on Monday afternoon about the Ponce vineyard deal, and Priscilla had invited both of them to her house for dinner and to discuss it further the following evening. However, because bedtime was especially chaotic with a toddler and newborn, Alice and Shane had ended up grilling steaks outside while Margaret made a salad inside and Priscilla bathed the kids. Now Shane was putting Kaitlyn to bed so the sisters had a little time to talk.

He’d already weighed in yesterday, telling Alice that he definitely thought it was worth her while to check out Bahía de Plata and encouraging her to take Carlos with her. When she said that she’d already invited Carlos to accompany her, Shane had nodded, telling her that it was “about time.”

More evidence that Carlos was due for a promotion to Shane’s sales team.

Hmm.

She sighed inwardly. She would never hold Carlos back, of course…but what would she do without him? Perhaps she could insist that he train his replacement before moving internally. This thought, however, which should have reassured her, didn’t. She hated the idea of training and working with someone new.

No. That wasn’t the whole truth.

What she really hated was the idea of losing Carlos by her side.

“Alice?” prompted Priscilla. “Alice!”

“What? Yes!” She shot a glance to Margaret. “Kicking yourself. Right.”

“Someone seems a little distracted tonight,” said Priscilla, a slight singsong quality to her voice. “Are you all right?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…Margaret just went on and on about the sustainability of the Bahía de Plata vineyards, and you were zoned out like you’d just been hypnotized.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She turned to Margaret. “I heard every word.”

Margaret chuckled softly. “So what’s my major fear about the success of Ponce?”

Alice cleared her throat. “I…well, that is, um…”

Margaret took mercy on her older sister. “Puerto Ricans are urban people. Only six percent are farmers, and most of the farms are in the interior part of the island, not on the coast. Are you sure we’ll have the necessary manpower for a project this big? How will you get enough farming staff to relocate?”

“A good question for me to ask Ramirez once I’m there.”

There…with Carlos.

In the moments before she’d told Carlos that he would be accompanying her to the Caribbean on business, she hadn’t felt any specific emotion. But in the split seconds that followed, she’d been nearly overwhelmed by how much she suddenly felt at the prospect of traveling alone with him. Feelings that she’d never expected: excitement, anticipation, and a foreign, almost giddy elation had flushed her cheeks, surprising and embarrassing her.

And he’d—well, frankly, he’d seemed off-balance too, blinking at her in surprise as he whispered, “Me.”

Margaret cleared her throat meaningfully, and Alice looked up to see her sisters exchange conspiratorial grins.

“Speaking of Ramirez…we’d love to know a little bit more about him,” said Priscilla with a shit-eating grin.

“I looked him up,” said Margaret, her lips tilting up in a small smile. “He’s successful, handsome…”

“And eligible!” Priscilla said. “His house in Ponce? O-M-G, Allie. It looked like a palace on Zillow.”

Alice shot her little sister a glare. It had been years since any of them had called her “Allie,” a family nickname she had insisted they stop when she started high school, preferring the more formal and proper “Alice.” “What’s Zillow?”

“A realtor website,” said Margaret. “It’s called Hacienda del Mar.”

“The website? I thought it was called Zillow.”

“It is,” said Priscilla, her smile dreamy. “Can you imagine the views?”

“Twelve thousand square feet of space,” said Margaret wistfully, “on a hill overlooking the Caribbean.”

Alice had caught up enough by now to understand that her sisters had been checking out Ramirez online via a website called Zillow that apparently showcased his palatial house.

“Ahhhhh,” sighed the younger Story sisters in unison, batting their eyes at Alice.

Alice rolled hers.

“Subtlety, thy name is neither Margaret nor Priscilla.”

“There is nothing wrong with a May–December romance!” trilled Priscilla.

“May–December?” repeated Alice. “He’s hardly at death’s door, Pris!”

“Of course he’s not! More like…September!” said Margaret, frowning briefly at Priscilla before brightening her smile for Alice. “He looks very…er, virile to me.”

“Very,” said Priscilla, nodding in agreement. “And if he can’t get it up, there’s always Viagra.”

“Pris!” reprimanded Margaret. “Not helpful!”

“Viagra!” exclaimed Alice, her head ping-ponging back and forth between her sisters, her cheeks flushing with heat as her mind created an unwanted snapshot of Ramirez naked. “No! Stop!”

“He went to Wharton,” sang Priscilla. “Admit it: huge coincidence!”

“Not a coincidence,” insisted Alice. “Plenty of people go to Wharton.”

“Okay…but he is well educated,” said Margaret, leaning closer.

“Yes…”

“Which is important,” said Priscilla, beaming down at her sleeping baby. “You know, for father material.”

Whoa. What? Father material?

Priscilla held up four fingers, lowering them one by one. “Hot…established…rich…and well educated. We think you should go for him!”

“Oh, is that what you think?” she asked, sarcasm heavy in her voice. She set her coffee cup on the table and looked at Margaret accusatorily, her “Pris-is-one-thing-but-you-should-know-better” look.

Margaret looked appropriately sheepish. “Well…he has sort of dropped into your lap.”

“No. He’s offered me a business deal. Full stop.”

“A fortuitous meeting!” declared Priscilla.

“He’s twenty years older than me,” Alice informed them.

“So what?” said Priscilla with a bright smile. “He’s a silver fox!”

“You’re ridiculous,” said Alice. “I don’t even know him.”

“Did he seem to like you?” asked Margaret gently.

Alice sighed.

Yes. Yes, he did seem to like me, she thought, remembering the way he’d touched and flattered her. And certainly the attention hadn’t been entirely in her own head since Carlos had looked murderous by the end of the meeting.

Wait a second.

Why did he look murderous?

Why did Ramirez bother him so much?

Could it have anything to do with…me?

Her heart leapt and fluttered for a second as she considered this question…before taking a deep breath and answering it logically for herself.

Of course it had nothing to do with her.

Carlos’ aversion to the older businessman was the result of Ramirez’s pointed barbs about fetching the coffee and taking notes. Ramirez had emasculated Carlos with his comments. Carlos had a right to dislike him.

And yet…niggled the annoying little seed of doubt that had already been planted in her mind.

When Ramirez had called Alice an “heiress,” Carlos had bristled, his eyes narrowing in distaste. And when Ramirez had touched Alice’s leg, Carlos had leaned forward in his chair and cleared his throat loudly. She had glanced up to find his body coiled and tense, like an angry lion ready to pounce.

Was it just loyalty? A sense of protectiveness toward his boss?

Or…something more?

Her body tingled as she recalled the way Carlos’ breath had hitched when she told him he’d be accompanying her to Puerto Rico. She’d heard it catch, and it had made the flush in her cheeks deepen. She’d felt so aware of him in that moment, suddenly realizing that, coworkers or not, they’d be spending a week together in the Caribbean.

Alone.

“Look at that dreamy smile, Meggie!”

Alice blinked, looking up at Priscilla. “What smile?”

“You like him!”

Her eyes widened as she heard rapid-fire words in her head: No! No, I don’t. He’s my assistant. My employee. That would be wrong. I absolutely refuse to have any feelings for him beyond—

“His first name is Eduardo, right?” asked Margaret, and Alice turned to her, realizing that her sisters were still talking about Ramirez.

“Yes! Eduardo,” Alice replied. “Eduardo Ramirez. That’s who we’re talking about. Mm-hm. That is his name.”

Margaret stared at her older sister, cocking her head to the side and nodding like she was trying to figure something out.

“Ooooh!” squealed Priscilla. “You’re so flustered! I love it!”

“I’m not flustered,” protested Alice, drinking the rest of her coffee before rising from the couch and taking her empty cup into the kitchen.

At least not about Eduardo Ramirez.

***

Alice was acting strange.

Real strange.

And with a car picking them up at their respective apartments tomorrow morning at six o’clock and six fifteen, Carlos wondered whether or not he should say something. Otherwise, they risked spending the whole week in uncomfortable silence.

Had Monday been a little awkward after she told him he’d be going to the Dominican Republic and Puerto Rico with her? Yes. A little. Hearing her say that he’d be accompanying her…to the Caribbean…for a week…alone…had set off a totally unexpected chain reaction inside his body. His blood, which was already running hot in response to Ramirez’s affronts and liberties, had heated up to volcanic levels for totally different reasons, his stupid heart stuttering at the thought of finally being alone with Alice out of the office. But his sweet, steamy high had plummeted when she told him he should consider transferring to Shane’s group. In theory, he knew it was not a rejection but a vote of confidence. Still, the suggestion stung, and he’d left her office feeling cold.

As for Alice? She’d hunkered down behind closed doors for the remainder of the day, working quietly at her desk. On a normal day, she called him into her office no fewer than a dozen times, asking for updates or numbers, so Monday had been noticeably quiet. When he’d knocked on her door at the end of the day to present the information he’d gathered about Bahía de Plata, she’d asked him to leave it on her desk instead of stopping what she was doing to go over it together. He’d stared at her bent head, realizing she was purposely keeping her eyes averted. When she didn’t look up after several awkward seconds, he placed the file folder on her desk and bid her good night.

Since then, even though he sat ten feet from her office door, their contact had been mostly limited to e-mails.

On Tuesday, he had e-mailed her the itinerary for their trip: outbound flight for two from Philadelphia International to Santo Domingo on Thursday morning, with a two-hour stop in Atlanta, a transfer to Bahía de Plata,and three nights at the Gran Palacio de Plata, the Silver Palace Resort Hotel. On Sunday, when most Caribbean businesses were closed for the day, they would fly via chartered plane from Santo Domingo to Ponce, where Ramirez planned to collect them from the airport at three o’clock. When speaking to Ramirez’s assistant, Carlos had asked for a hotel recommendation nearby at which to make reservations for himself and Alice. He was informed, however, that Ramirez insisted on hosting Miss Story at his pretentiously named home, Hacienda del Mar. She had suggested to book a room at a local hotel, the Howard Johnson’s Ponce, for Carlos.

“Está solo una milla de Hacienda del Mar,” she explained.

One mile too far, Carlos had thought, thanking the assistant for her advice but ultimately ignoring it.

Fuck the Howard Johnson’s.

Carlos didn’t trust Ramirez with Alice as far as he could throw him. Furthermore, he dared Ramirez to look into his eyes, once he arrived with Alice, and tell Carlos in front of her he didn’t have room for him to stay at his mansion. Ramirez wouldn’t have the cojones to be so rude in person, nor would he jeopardize Alice’s good opinion by refusing hospitality to her employee. Which meant that Ramirez was stuck with him, and Alice—whether she wanted it or not—would have Carlos’ protection.

Not, likely being the case, if lack of eye contact and communication was any indication.

Which brought him full circle: Alice was acting really strange, and Carlos decided to talk to her on Wednesday morning.

Instead of placing her coffee and granola bar on her desk per usual, he kept them at his desk, eager to have an excuse to step into her office when she arrived and hoping to smooth things out between them. It was going to be an awfully awkward week if she couldn’t even look him in the eyes.

Sure enough, at 8:01, Alice sailed by his desk en route to her office and murmured, “Good morning.” After she’d had a moment to get settled, he entered her office uninvited, closing the door behind him.

She looked up in surprise, her eyes wide, her cheeks flushing instantly.

“Good morning,” he said, approaching her desk and placing her coffee and breakfast bar on her blotter.

“Good morning,” she murmured, pulling the coffee to her lips and taking a sip.

“Alice,” he asked, placing his hands on his hips, “is everything…okay?”

Her face jerked up, her brown eyes meeting his gray. “Why do you ask?”

He sighed, pulling out a guest chair and taking a seat. “We’ve been working together for three years now.”

She nodded, gulping softly. “Yes.”

He searched her eyes, but she gave away nothing.

“I can tell when you’re upset about something,” he said, smoothing his tie with a slide of his palm before looking up at her. “And you seem…well, I’m just gonna be honest: it feels like you’re avoiding me.”

“I’m not,” she said, her shoulders relaxing as she puffed out a held breath. “Can I be honest too?”

“Please,” he said, bracing himself internally.

“I thought you were coming in here to ask for a transfer to Shane’s group.”

This surprised him. Frankly, he’d barely considered the possible promotion or how it could fit in with attending grad school since she’d mentioned it on Monday, and he certainly hadn’t decided about whether or not he was ready to make a change. But, huh—apparently she’d been thinking about it quite a bit.

“No,” he said. “To be honest, Alice, I haven’t thought about it much.”

“Why not?”

He shrugged. “I’ve been busy, I guess…doing the job I have.”

“Well, you should think about it,” she said.

In fact, she said this with such conviction that it made him wonder about her motives. Did she want to get rid of him? Did she want a new assistant and moving him to Shane’s group was a means to that end?

“Is that what you want? For me to work for Shane?” he asked, holding his breath as he waited for her to answer.

“I…” She dropped his eyes, looking down at her desk. She slipped her bottom lip between her teeth, a gesture he rarely saw from confident, assertive Alice. The last time he’d seen her look like this was after a fight she’d had with her sister Elizabeth. It was a tell. An emotional tell. Finally, she answered him softly: “No.”

He leaned forward, his foolish heart taking flight and willing her to look at him. “Then…?”

“But you should. You should be promoted.” Raising her head, her eyes were sorry, her lips turned down like she was disappointed in herself. “If you stay here, working for me, it means I’m holding you back.”

“Only if you’re keeping me from moving.” He tented his hands. “Alice, I like my job. I’m—well, I think I’m good at it.”

“You are,” she said quickly. “Very good. But Shane says you’re wonderful in the field.” She took a deep breath and sighed. “In your present position—as office manager and executive assistant—there’s nowhere left to go. I can’t promote you any higher or increase your salary any further. But in sales? The sky’s the limit.”

His eyes traced her face—landing on her temple and staring at the way she pulled her blonde hair back so tightly from her crown into a bun every day. Did it hurt, he wondered, as he had many times before, to wear her hair like that? Did it ache a little all day, every day?

“Is this why you’ve been avoiding me?”

She reached for her coffee, shrugging delicately. “It would be wrong to keep you on as my assistant if you’re capable of more.”

“I like being your assistant,” he said gently. “Besides, that’s not all I do. I’m the office manager too. And when I’m needed, I pitch in on the sales team—”

“No,” said Alice, shaking her head. “Wearing too many hats means you’ll be wearing none well. Besides, you didn’t leave the mail room to be my assistant forever.”

Maybe I did, he thought, raising his chin as he looked into her eyes. “You assume I have as much business ambition as you.”

She looked back at him, and her eyebrows creased, as though she was learning something important about him for the first time, and he realized that she was. Of course he hadn’t wanted to work in a mail room for the rest of his life…but right hand to a CEO? Office manager of a twenty-five-person office? Occasional sales team translator? Why couldn’t these three pieces be incorporated into one position custom made for him? Why did he have to choose between them?

“You’re right. I do assume that. Am I wrong?” She propped her elbow on the desk and rested her chin in her palm, her eyes troubled. “I’ve never asked as long as we’ve been working together. What are your ambitions, Carlos? What do you want?”

He thought for a moment, no easy answer arriving at the forefront of his mind. In terms of having a home, wife, and children, yes—he had a certain timeline in mind for when he wanted those things and was just starting to feel a steadily growing internal pressure to settle down. But that wasn’t what Alice was talking about—she was discussing business. And where business was concerned? He had a completed application for grad school in his desk that he still hadn’t sent. His ambition was less focused, his goals less rigid than hers.

“I’m not totally sure.” He smiled at her. “Is that an easy question for you to answer?”

“Of course. I have…five-, ten-, twenty-, and thirty-year plans for my professional life.”

“You do?” he blurted out, his eyes wide.

“Absolutely. It’s the framework for my whole future.”

“Whew,” he breathed, rubbing the stubble on his chin with his thumb and forefinger. “That’s a lot of planning.”

“How else would I know where I’m going?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “You could…see what life offers? Make your decisions as they come?”
“I don’t wait for change,” she said. “I make it happen.” She took a deep breath and sighed, assuming he didn’t understand what she was saying and further clarifying her thoughts by adding, “I wanted to start my own company. I wanted to be the CEO and president of that company. Lead it. Manage its direction. Build it.”

“You’re fulfilling your goals,” he said with admiration. “You’re meeting them.”

“Yes, I am.” She took another sip of her coffee and unwrapped her KIND bar. “So you don’t have any professional goals mapped out?”

“I…well, I was working in a mail room when I was offered something better. And now…”

“You’re being offered another something better,” she said.

Would it be better? he wondered.

Junior members of the sales team were expected to travel for two to three weeks at a time, visiting vineyards in Chile, Argentina, New Zealand, Australia, or South Africa. Instead of being around for weekend family gatherings or downtime at home, he’d be on the road. A lot.

“My professional goals are”—he cleared his throat, rubbing his hands together—“undefined, I guess, but definitely more modest than yours. I didn’t grow up in a mansion in Haverford, Alice. I’m already earning more than the rest of my siblings by a significant amount.” He cocked his head to the side, knowing he was about to share more with her about his family than he ever had before. “My mother and father run a small restaurant—Casa Vega—in my hometown of Toa Baja.”

“Casa Vega. Vega, like your last name.”

“Sí,” he said, grinning at her as he pictured the tiny café with bright walls and diner-style tables that sat four each. What would Philadelphia heiress Alice Story think of it, he wondered. “Just a popular little place serving good rice and beans. Mofongos—”

“What is that?” she asked, taking another bite of her breakfast bar.

“Mofongos?” he asked, his eyes widening at her question. It’s only the national dish of Puerto Rico! “It’s mashed green plantains served with fresh seafood or meat.”

“Plantains?” she asked, sipping her coffee as she looked at him over the rim of her cup. “I’ve never had that. It’s like bananas, right?”

Not the way Mama makes them.

“Ahhh-leeese,” he said, laying on his accent and drawing out her name. Her eyes grew wider, and he chuckled again. “We’re gonna to have to find some good mofongos for you to try while we’re there. You’re gonna love it.”

“Did you work there? At the restaurant?”

“Yes. Of course. We all did. Me and my brothers and sisters. Some of my cousins too.”

“A family business.”

“Exactly,” he said.

“Would you have inherited it? If you’d stayed?”

He nodded. “Definitely. Co-ownership with my siblings or cousins. But you must understand, I would’ve been a busboy or waiter for years until then. And…well, I didn’t want that, even if it led to me owning Casa Vega one day. I wanted more than that.”

As a rule, Alice didn’t smile very much—it wasn’t part of her comfortable resting face, but she had been smiling, just slightly, as he spoke about Casa Vega. Now her lips faded into a line, then turned down slightly as she dropped her eyes to her desk.

“More,” she said softly. “Like a career in business.”

“Business classes came easily to me at university. Seemed as good a path as any,” he said, trying to follow her sudden shift in mood.

“Remember the way my father ran his business?”

“Of course.”

“He was…” She set down her granola bar, staring at it for a moment. “He was a terrible boss. Unfair. Prejudiced. Holding back employees that—”

Carlos narrowed his eyes. “You are nothing like him, Alice.”

Her eyes blazed suddenly as though lit by a fire from deep within her. “I will fight against…being like him…with all the strength I have.”

Carlos stared at her, moved by the gritty passion in her voice, realizing that she was sharing a core truth of her adult person, knowing that she had started Alice Story Imports, in part, to prove that she could be a better employer, a better person than her father. Here and now, with thirteen words, she was showing him who she was, and Carlos finally understood the truth behind her recent avoidance of him on every level.

If she didn’t promote a hardworking employee—if he stayed on as her assistant and didn’t accept a promotion to Shane’s team—she would blame herself for doing to him what her father had done to her. In Alice’s mind, she would be denying Carlos a better future in the same way her father had denied her any meaningful advancement at Story Imports.

She took a deep breath, threw out her half-eaten granola bar, and raised her chin. “When we return from Puerto Rico, you’ll be promoted to Shane’s group and given a commensurate raise. It’s for the best.”

“Wait. What?”

“It’s done.”

“Alice, I don’t even…”

He was about to say, I don’t even know if that’s what I want.

But he stopped himself because that would be crazy, right? It would be crazy to close the door on a possible promotion and a raise.

So why did he feel such apprehension? Such reluctance to shake her hand and accept the change with enthusiasm?

“I refuse to hold you back,” she said definitively, turning away from him and back to her monitor. “I’ll let Shane know to get the wheels in motion ASAP. It’ll happen two weeks after we return from Ponce. I’ll expect you to train your replacement the day after we return.”

“Of course,” he murmured, stunned that everything was happening so fast when his gut reaction was to ask her for more time to think it over. “Alice, I’d actually like to—”

“You’ll still be here,” she said, her voice uncharacteristically emotional, and somehow it felt like she was speaking more to herself than to him. “And that’s good because you’re…well, you’re important, Carlos.” She cleared her throat. “Important to this company.”

He stared at her, uncertain of what he wanted to say, needing more time to process everything that had just happened but feeling like the sand as the tide came in, about to disappear under the relentless forward motion of the approaching waves.

“Congratulations,” she said with a back-to-business nod. “Now, can you hold my calls this morning? Also, I’d like to see the exportation numbers on the Bahía de Plata Chardonnay, and I’ll need a list of the most prominent Caribbean-themed restaurants in Philadelphia and Washington to start.”

His mind still reeling, he stood up, pushing away from her desk, feeling hurried and unsettled. “Of course.” Should he thank her? For the promotion that he wasn’t certain he wanted? It seemed like the right thing to do etiquette-wise. “Uh, thank you, Alice.”

“No.” She looked up at him, her eyes meeting his and holding them. “You took a chance on me when no one else would. Thank you, Carlos.”

After a very brief upward tilt of her lips, she turned back to her monitor, her fingers flying across the keyboard as she began working.

And Carlos, who had just received a career-changing promotion, tried to reconcile his warring feelings as he headed back to his desk with heavy steps.