by Karla Doyle
It’d be easy to let her hang for this. Frame what’d happened in a way that made her seem like a liar. He couldn’t do it.
“She never actually lied, she withheld details.”
“Pretty fucking important ones. You’ve been through that shit before. Once was one time too many.”
“Exactly how I felt when I found out. But this is different. Anna was a lying, conniving bitch who used me. Candace wanted to spare me some of the ugly truth about her job. She thought it wouldn’t be an issue, since she’d already made the decision to quit her job.”
Curtis’s eyebrows rose. “She quit? That should be great news, even if she did hide some details from the past.”
“It would’ve been awesome, except I found out from the guy. He was at Lucky’s on Monday morning when I went there with flowers. I wanted to show Candace I love her no matter what. The slick asshole from the gala walked out, goaded me about her, then told me she’d quit Lucky’s and accepted his offer to be his exclusive call girl.”
“It was a lie, I assume.”
“I didn’t want to believe it, but some of the shit he said…” Recalling the conversation turned his stomach. He shook his head to break the replay loop in his mind. “I stormed into Lucky’s, found out Candace had met with the guy, then quit and taken off.”
Curtis grimaced. “This is the part of the story where you did something stupid, am I right?”
Time to reveal the showstopper of the shit show. “I went to her house. Accused her of everything the guy told me.” He braced himself as his friend rose to glare at him.
“Did she kick you in the nuts, slap your face, tell you to go to hell, or all of the above?” Curtis crossed his tatted arms over his chest. “Because, even if everything that guy said had been true, you still weren’t entitled to treat her like shit.”
“I know. She should’ve done all those things. All she did was tell me to leave.”
“I suppose she’s had years of experience dealing with assholes verbally abusing her.”
Jake winced, the gravity of what he’d done slamming him so hard, he dropped onto the bench. “I’m fucked. I screwed this up so much, there’s nothing I can do to come back from it.”
“Probably not.”
“That’s it? You don’t have some Lawler pearls of wisdom to impart?”
A grunt passed through Curtis’s straight-as-an-arrow mouth. “If you think I’m wise when it comes to women, you’re even stupider than I gave you credit for.”
“Shit.” He leaned forward, catching his head in his hands before the rock-laden thing weighed him right down to the floor.
Above him, Curtis sighed. “Get up, Campbell. Moping like a sad puppy isn’t going to do anything, other than annoy the shit out of me and ruin a decent workout. Figure out what you want and make a plan. Take a shot. If it works, great. If it doesn’t, learn from it and move on.”
Moving on wouldn’t be that simple. He might not have a choice, but he wasn’t going to roll over and accept the option, either. He already knew what he wanted, he just needed a plan. Maybe a little help from a friend, or, more accurately, the mother of a friend. Time to make some phone calls. Then take his shot.
Candace
The dread that’d mounted in her stomach while driving to the school dissipated as she scanned the waiting adults. No sign of Enzo, thank God. The pickup line was free of pickup lines. This time.
He’d been here yesterday afternoon, smiling at her with smug entitlement. He’d even had the nerve to say hello to her, to address her by name. The bastard. Obviously, he knew he’d torpedoed her relationship with Jake. Hence the smug. But the entitlement part…
Thinking about it had her blood boiling. Again.
If Enzo actually believed she’d reconsider his offer now that Jake was out of the picture, his intelligence was clearly limited to business endeavors.
Jake. He’d broken her heart. Disappointed her epically.
She missed him anyway.
Macy’s appearance at the kindergarten door soothed the ache in her cracked heart. “Mommy!” she called, running toward Candace with her arms outstretched. “I’m supposed to give this to you.”
“Thanks, baby girl. Is it from your teacher?” she asked, hugging her little sweetheart. No answer required after turning the manila envelope faceup. Her stomach lurched at the sight of the Balducci Holdings crest and her name, written in Enzo’s strong, all-caps style.
“Why does Vincenzo’s daddy keep sending you letters?”
Because he’s a domineering jerk who’s used to getting whatever he wants. “Jake and I ran into Vincenzo’s parents at the fancy party on Saturday night. It’s probably just a note about that.”
Regardless of the envelope’s contents, Candace knew one thing for certain—this would be the last note Enzo Balducci passed in class.
Candace
By the time she parked in front of the Balducci Holdings office building, her pulse had reached jackhammer level at her temples. She needed to calm down. No, she needed to step aside and let Candy take the lead. Candy made rules and maintained control. Always.
Candace needed Candy right now. Enzo was about to wish he’d never met either of them.
Since Candy would be handling today’s meeting, Candace shrugged out of her fitted, black blazer, opened two more buttons on her blouse, then stuffed all the tissues she had on hand into the bottom half of her bra. Her boobs looked plenty fine on their own, but this visit called for something extra. She untucked the white shirt, undid a few buttons at the bottom and tied it just below the band of her bra. The short skirt and heels that had been fine for business casual would work for this look also. Not the tidy up-do, though.
She removed the clip holding her hair and let the waves hit her shoulders. A little finger tousling and it was bedroom messy, just the way her customers had liked. Next, she fished through her handbag and found the sexpot-red lipstick she’d worn to the gala, applying it thick enough to withstand a nuclear assault. One last check in the mirror told her she was ready.
She tucked the blazer over the top of her handbag and exited the car. Chin up and boobs out, she crossed the parking lot and entered the elegant, modern building. Showtime, Candy style.
A bulked-up, male security guard nodded while openly checking her out. To her right, a handful of well-dressed men stood in the large, first-floor lobby. Straight ahead, a uniformed, male concierge sat at a central reception desk. She didn’t need to look around to know every one of those men’s gazes were trained on her. She felt their attention. Their attraction. Exactly what she wanted right now.
“Good morning, can I help you?” the fresh-out-of-business-college young man asked as she leaned over the reception desk, giving him a primo view of her cleavage. Right on schedule, his attention dropped to her boobs. And stayed there, until she cleared her throat. When he met her gaze again, his face was redder than her lipstick.
“No need to be shy. If I didn’t want you to look, I would’ve worn something more business appropriate. Well, more appropriate to your business, anyway.” She unleashed the Candy-wants-to-eat-you smile and watched the concierge become paralyzed with lust. This part was just too easy. “I’m here to see Vincenzo Balducci, at his request. Be a honey and point me in the right direction.”
“I’ll have to call up and confirm your appointment, Miss…?”
“Just tell him Candy is here for him.” She straightened, turning her head to smile at her gawking admirers. Being here, making herself recognizable, was as risky as it was necessary. And it was necessary. She had a life to get on with. This was the only way to shake Enzo out of it.
“You can go up now,” the young man said, pulling her attention back to the desk. “Take the elevator to the sixth floor and turn right when you get off.” The guy’s face turned impossibly redder. “I mean, step off. Not get off.”
She smiled a Candy-knows-what-you’re-thinking smile. Under other circumstances, she’d find his bumbling funny. Not
today.
“Right, so, yes. Right. Turn right out of the elevator. Mr. Balducci’s office is behind a set of double doors. He says he’d like you to go in directly, without stopping to talk to anybody.”
Oh, she just bet he’d like that. Well, too damn bad. She planned to talk to every single person she could along the way. Starting with the group across the lobby.
“Thank you. You’ve been very helpful.” One more smile for the blushing concierge, then she strolled toward the elevator, issuing a flirty fingertip wave at the cluster of attentive businessmen. “If you like what you see, head over to Lucky’s Healthy Life Massage. That’s where Vincenzo Balducci found me and many, many happy endings.” She turned her back to them and pressed the button for the elevator.
The weight of their gazes propelled her into the empty car. She closed her eyes and exhaled when the silver doors slid shut behind her. Every second of this exhibitionistic stunt made her nauseated.
She hated doing this. Hated being here at all. The more people she outed herself to, at this point, the better. It wouldn’t matter for long anyway. As soon as she secured a new job, she’d leave the area and never return. She’d miss the school, for Macy’s sake, but there were other good schools.
There was only one Jake though. She’d miss him no matter where she lived. No amount of distance would change that. Time might not either. Even if he had fucked up exponentially.
The elevator chimed its arrival at the sixth floor. Time to pull it together, take care of business and get the hell out. She inhaled deeply, willing her Candy persona to the surface again. One final time.
She stepped out, but did not turn right, as she’d been instructed. Instead, she sashayed to what she assumed to be Enzo’s personal reception desk. “Hi there,” she said, smiling at the woman seated behind the counter. Attractive, blonde, blue eyes. Even their clothes were the same, or they would have been, if Candace hadn’t given hers the Candy treatment.
“Wow, look at the two of us,” she said, tapping the envelope she held on the gleaming countertop. “If I had more clothes on, or you had less, we’d practically be twins. Did Enzo—sorry, I guess he goes by Vincenzo here—hire you himself, or did you get this job through an agency?”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I meant no offense with the question, honestly. I just find it interesting that Enzo’s administrative assistant looks uncannily similar to his massage attendant. You’ll notice I said ‘attendant,’ not therapist. Though, if he has one of those too, I imagine she also looks like us. He seems to have a type. Which in no way resembles his very lovely wife. Anyway, this is why I’m here.” She removed his recent letter from the envelope and held it up for the woman to read.
The woman’s eyes opened wider as she read the letter’s contents. Nothing explicitly damning, but quite unmistakable in tone. Enzo wanted what Enzo wanted. And he expected to get it.
“May I take a copy of that?” the woman asked.
“Sorry, I’m not letting this out of my possession. Just in case.” For all she knew, the woman behind the desk might put it through the shredder. Not a chance Candace was willing to take. “But I will mail you a copy, if you’d like.”
“I’d appreciate that, yes. Just in case.”
Ah, so, that’s how it was. Not only did Enzo have specific taste in women, he apparently had a habit of objectifying them. Quite possibly, of controlling them.
“I’ll send it out this afternoon. How would you like it addressed?”
Rather than answer, the woman handed Candace a business card. “I promise to be discreet with whatever information you share.”
Candace nodded. “I’m going to head into his office now. That’s the only head that’ll be happening with this visit. I’ve retired from that profession, even though Enzo thinks he can dictate otherwise, as you saw in his letter.”
“Good luck.”
“Thanks,” she said, before moving toward the ominous double doors. She had a feeling she was going to need all the luck she could get.
Enzo was waiting for her inside the office, and he did not look happy. “Close the door, Candace.”
“It’s Candy to you, and no, the door stays open.”
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“You’re right, I shouldn’t be. I don’t want to be. I gave you the opportunity to politely accept my decision and respect my boundaries. You did the opposite. Repeatedly. So, I’m here to tell you again. Do not contact me. Ever. Through any channels, especially my daughter.”
“Candace—”
“Candy,” she said, loud enough for his secretary—and anybody else who might be out there by now—to hear it. “That’s the only name you get to use, and this is the last time you will ever get to use it. I’m sure you’re already in the process of silencing your associates I met in the lobby. If you contact me again, if you do anything to intrude in my life, or my daughter’s, or Jake’s, I will tell more people where you get your kicks. Maybe I’ll tell your wife.”
“Go ahead. People, in general, can be bought. You’d know that better than anyone. As for my wife…” He shrugged. “Loretta already knows ‘where I get my kicks.’”
If that was true, did Loretta also know who he’d spent his time with? Candace choked, the taste of vomit tainting her palette.
The bastard smiled, clearly thinking he’d won. He was about to find out otherwise.
As much as she wanted to scream in his face, call him every scum-buckety name in the book, a lifelong habit of “being nice” wouldn’t let her. Even while performing as Candy.
“You weren’t always a jerk to me, Enzo. The opposite, in fact. Because I appreciated it back then, I’m going to give you another opportunity to cut all ties where I’m concerned. I am no longer available to you. Not in any way. Respect that, please. If you don’t, it will come at a price. One you won’t be able to afford, even with all your money and influence. I will take this story—my story of a single mother working in the sex trade to provide for her young child, only to be bullied by a powerful businessman when she tried to change her life—to the media.”
“Don’t make empty threats. I know you wouldn’t do that to your daughter.”
“I would do that, to protect my daughter. I don’t want you in our life. You have no right to be there. I’m positive that most respectable media outlets would provide me with anonymity in exchange for the story, especially when I have proof of your identity, and I’m not interested in receiving payment for my story.” The satisfaction she’d anticipated feeling failed to materialize, even when some of the color drained from his face. “I’m leaving now. I truly hope I never have to think about you again.”
From behind the reception desk, Enzo’s assistant gave her a thumbs-up as she passed.
Candace had stuck her neck—and her boobs—out today for personal reasons only. If, in doing so, she’d also protected other women from Enzo’s demands and control, even better. Still, she wasn’t looking to be anybody’s hero. Right now, she just wanted to be free. Of Enzo. Of Candy. Of every bad decision she’d made.
Alone in the elevator, she removed the padding from her bra. Buttoned her blouse and tucked it into her skirt, then slid her arms into the blazer and fastened its two buttons. She secured her hair in a quick bun. With one floor left to descend, she wiped off the scarlet lipstick. By the time the chime signaled her arrival at the main floor, Candy was gone.
Only the concierge and security guard were present in the lobby. Her heels on the tile floor echoed as she crossed to the door without giving either man a glance. If they watched her go, their attention bounced off her defenses without registering. She didn’t need Candy’s strength anymore. She had her own, and she was free.
Jake
There was a good chance this stunt was going to bite him in the ass. A chance he’d take, because if it didn’t bite him, it might win him the girl. Both the girls.
Jake hopped out of his SUV and headed toward Candace’s door, sending
the text he’d pre-written as he approached.
I’m at your place. I know I don’t deserve a minute of your time. I don’t deserve a chance to apologize. But I’m hoping you’ll open the door anyway. I’m knocking now. Please open the door. I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right with you.
“Hey,” he said to the neighbor when the man stuck his head out the door. “Just knocking. Politely. I swear.”
“I’ll be watching,” the man said. “I’m always watching.”
The swoosh from her incoming reply drew Jake’s attention from the heavy-browed neighbor.
I’m not home.
The neighborhood watchman retreated into his townhouse as Jake fired off another message.
I know you are. I’ve been waiting out front for you since before you left to take Macy to school. Sorry if that’s creepy. Also, you should learn to be more aware of your surroundings. I wasn’t even attempting to hide, and you didn’t notice me. Good thing your neighbor is around to keep an eye on things.
His head snapped up at the sound of her chain lock and deadbolt.
“My neighbor?” she asked, standing in the semi-open doorway. “What are you talking about?”
Goddamn, she was beautiful. There was a new lightness about her, not only in the way she looked, it was more of a presence. Even more than she’d had before.
“The man next door.” He forced his gaze from her face to glance toward the neighboring unit and its now-vacant front step. “He threatened to call the cops on me last time I was here. Which I deserved. He poked his head out and gave me a subtle warning when he saw me coming up the walk just now.”
“Really?” She stepped partway out to take a look. “I’ve never spoken to him, beyond a generic greeting. I don’t even know his first name.”
“Well, whatever his reason, he feels protective of you. I respect and appreciate that, because I feel that way too.”