Bad Enemy (Bad Girls Club Book 4)

by Carmen Falcone

  Close enough. Lara reached for her burger and took a bite, swallowing it slowly to buy some time. “He’s someone I met a few weeks ago, but I didn’t tell you guys anything because it was so new. Then we decided to take the leap and get married. It was all very last minute.”

  Nikki clapped her hand to her mouth. “Wow. Sounds so impulsive… and some would say, romantic.”

  Lara slapped on a smile. She hated lying to one of her best friends, but she’d also signed a non-disclosure agreement and didn’t want Troy to sue her because of codes of friendship. Later, much later after the divorce, she’d tell the girls the truth. Then they’d laugh about it. Hopefully.

  “Does anyone else know?”

  “No, and if you could tell the girls about my new marital status, that would be great,” Lara said. “I can’t make it this Friday anyway because I’m meeting his parents.”

  “Damn. I never get a scoop as good as this one.” Nikki played with her grilled salmon salad. “So tell me, who is he? What is he like?”

  “Good looking. Tall. Sexy,” she said, avoiding going any further. He’d also been a good listener, at least during the short time she told him about Rory. Then they’d returned to Tulip, and he gave her a spacious guest room in his huge home. She hadn’t seen him much in the past two days—but she assumed this was what her marriage would be like. On paper only.

  “Troy. What’s his last name?”

  “Gallucci.”

  Nikki looked up at the ceiling, thinking, as if she was trying to place his surname. “I feel like I’ve heard that name before. Do you have a picture?”

  Lara scooped her phone from the table and flicked the pictures that the wedding planner had emailed her after the ceremony. She should have erased them—she didn’t need them. He was the one who’d insisted on that package to have some evidence to share with his family. But something felt wrong about not having a photo of her supposedly big day. She held it up to Nikki.

  Nikki fanned herself and took the phone from her. “Whew. He’s hot. Damn.”

  “That’s why I married him right away,” Lara said.

  “No kidding. When can we meet him?”

  Apprehension squeezed Lara’s heart. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. But she assumed if he’d introduce her to his people, she could do the same. There was no way she’d be married for months without her friends meeting her husband. “I’ll ask him when it’s a good time and set something up.”

  “Great.”

  Lara looked away. Shivers of fear ran up her spine. She hoped to God that Troy was a really good actor to convince her friends they were in love. He had to be, right? Otherwise he wouldn’t have suggested this to fool his own family. Why though? Maybe the reason as to why he needed a bride so bad lay in his personal life, and not professional.

  “Is he at your place? Or are you in his?”

  “I’ve moved to his,” she said, before adding the name of a prestigious home in Tulip. She herself had a nice place, a three-bedroom home a few blocks from the beach that she earned with her own money. But she’d agreed to move to his, as it’d be easier to move on without having any memories of him in her place.

  Nikki whistled. “Niiice. I can’t wait to see it.”

  “He’s renting it,” she said, remembering he’d told her. “It’s big and fancy, facing the ocean. Came furnished. He moved into town not long ago.”

  “Oh. I get it. He’s lucky to have you now to add a feminine touch to the place then.”

  Lara cleared her throat. She didn’t want to touch anything that could attach her to Troy Gallucci.

  Lara glanced at her reflection in the mirror. She’d picked a dark red dress that was flattering but not too revealing. She added some jewelry and also hoped her stiletto heels would make her look more confident. She’d regretted not taking drama classes at school, for sure.

  “Are you ready?” Troy asked from the other side of the door, knocking on it.

  She drew in a breath, grabbed her rolling suitcase and walked to the door. The room she occupied was decorated in citrusy colors, different tones of orange from a more vibrant to a pale yellow. She’d think it would be too much, but like the rest of the house, it flowed nicely, and the end result was sophisticated.

  He'd told her it was a rental, but she knew he had to be paying a small fortune a month. Would he consider buying a home in Tulip?

  She opened the door to find him leaning on it. A bit too close for comfort, he wore dark jeans and a jacket tailor made for his broad shoulders and wide chest. But it was the crisp white shirt underneath that got her attention. Most specifically, the top button, casually opened and displaying the muscles of his neck, his tanned skin, and she wondered if hair dusted his chest.

  “Lara?” he called her, pulling her from her trance of arousal. “Ready to go?”

  She nodded violently. “Oh, yes… I just have a lot on my mind, got distracted.”

  “I understand.”

  “Do I look okay? I mean to meet your family?” she asked, then chastised herself mentally a second later. Get it together, girl. The last thing she wanted was to sound needy and insecure. This wasn’t a regular date—it was a performance. One that would ensure her brother’s safety.

  “Yes,” he said simply.

  “You look okay too,” she said, then lifted her chin and added a pep to her walk as she followed him down the stairs.

  According to her ex, she wasn’t a goddess in bed, but she knew she could make men turn their heads. She’d been told enough times.

  During the drive to his parents’ place in Los Angeles, she didn’t say much. For a couple hours, she put on her AirPods and listened to music. They should have driven earlier to miss traffic and get settled before dinner.

  But he’d had to work, and so had she—even though she trusted her team of landscapers, a lot of clients still preferred she be at the helm of their project, and she couldn’t blame them. She loved making residences and commercial buildings prettier and more welcoming, and using nature to do so.

  “Does your family know about Miguel?” she asked when he drove past a wrought iron gate, entering a long driveaway leading to the kind of mansion most people only saw in movies. Manicured trees and bushes cut in swirls surrounded the impressive house, the light-yellow stucco and the monuments by the entrance reminded her of a former era.

  “No. I told them I’m bringing someone. I haven’t mentioned we got married yet.”

  “Oh. Okay,” she said. Shouldn’t he have given them the heads up? Sure, he was the silent kind who didn’t talk more than he felt like, but getting married was kind of important. “Anything else I should know?”

  He parked the car in front of the house. “No.”

  An uneasy sensation spilled into her stomach. “You’re not a big over-sharer, are you?” she said, unable to keep the sarcasm from her voice.

  He gave her a small smile. “A few days and you already know the most important thing about me.” He went around the car and opened her door for her.

  She slid out. “Let’s hope we can convince your family that we fell in love so madly that we married out of the blue.”

  He shortened the gap between them, propping her to step back until her back pressed against the metal of the car. She drew in a sharp breath, and her bra tightened around her chest. He cocked his head to the side, defiance glittering in his eyes.

  She parted her mouth, but hesitated. Heat coiled low in her stomach. Should she ask him to get out of her way? Was this a power play? Letting her breath out slowly, she lifted her hands and placed them on his chest to push him away.

  The moment she touched him, she could feel his strong pecs under his clothes. Damn… she rested her hands there, as if she extracted some powerful energy from him, unwilling to move them. Her nipples tightened and hardened at the contact. She’d known he was large and strong, but this…

  She dared to raise her gaze to his. His eyes darkened, and he dipped down his head. Each inch he bridged b
etween them squeezed another beat from her heart, until all she could hear in her ears was the erratic thrumming.

  A hum formed between her legs, and every part of her became achingly attuned to his presence. Tendrils of arousal flowed through her, increasing her internal temperature. She hadn’t been this nervous during her first kiss. Or… ever.

  At last, he captured her lips with his. For a moment, she savored the nearness of him, the way he put his arms around her, pulling her closer. Her body molded to his like they had done this before, countless times, without any reservations. She parted her lips more, and he delved his tongue inside, causing an electric reaction shoot down her body.

  She lifted her hands to his neck, then encircled them around, loving the feel of his body. Little tingles ran down her spine, and her heart hammered against her sternum. He intensified the strokes of his tongue on hers, and a deep need to have him fuck her buzzed in her brain. She kissed him back, tightening the hold around his neck and bringing them even closer, so much so she could feel his heart beating. Or was it hers?

  He slid his hand down her back and cupped her ass. Little bubbles of excitement spread across her stomach, then arrowed down to her sex. She bit his lower lip, teasing him, desperate to give as much as she was getting.

  But she wanted more… much more. She lowered her hands down his back, then to his sides and at last, she mirrored his move and cupped his ass. He had narrow hips, but enough flesh on his butt to nicely fill a pair of pants. That position also made her achingly aware of his massive erection against her midsection.

  The sound of throat clearing was like pouring glacial water on a naked body. She disengaged from him, gasping, startled. Still maintaining his cool, he sighed, looking more annoyed than frustrated, and turned around.

  When he did so, she saw a woman standing a few feet from them. The gorgeous brunette sported a black dress with golden accent patterns, and a short, blunt haircut that probably cost a small fortune.

  “Michelle,” he said under his breath.

  “We’ve been waiting for you. And how nice of you to bring company,” she said, then her attention focused on Lara. She erased the distance between them and stretched out her hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Michelle Gallucci. The sister-in-law.”

  “Pleasure.” Lara shook her hand. “Lara Nunes.”

  “How was traffic?” Michelle asked.

  “Not bad,” Troy answered and gestured for them to walk ahead.

  Michelle tried to engage in a small talk, but Troy didn’t say much. Lara followed Michelle, and her gaze alternated between the two of them. Troy didn’t make eye contact with her anymore. Why? Her blood cooled in her veins. Did he regret the kiss already?

  Maybe not only I’m a bad lay, but I’m also a bad kisser? Her shoulders dropped a notch. No, couldn’t be. He’d seemed to enjoy himself. Besides, she knew she couldn’t be that bad. Keep cool. She’d need to pretend his kiss, their impromptu make out session, didn’t affect her as it had. She’d cling to self-preservation like a drowning person to a lifeboat.

  4

  Troy licked his lips, and he could still taste her. Even if it had been a couple hours since their unexpected hookup. He glanced around the living room. His mother had served his father some dessert wine, and Mateo spoke to Michelle in a low voice, in Italian.

  Ever since he’d slept with Michelle, two months prior, his brother had been aloof. Troy didn’t blame him, of course. They had a big fight, and Mateo had punched him, rightfully so.

  But now... he glanced at Lara, sitting next to him. A part of him missed his brother, that old relationship they shared. He’d screwed it up, like he screwed most things—sabotaging his own relationships came as natural to him as a fix to an addict. He’d stopped asking himself why he ultimately acted on impulse regardless of the consequences and just accepted the fact that was who he was.

  “Did you grow up in this house?” she asked him.

  He nodded. “My parents came from Italy when I was seven.”

  She smiled. “They did well for themselves,” she said, gesturing at the enormous living area. His parents had a much more ostentatious taste than his own, with several tufted chairs, busy Persian rugs and overpriced art that he didn’t really care for.

  “Lara, where are your parents from?” his father asked.

  “Brazil, but I was born here,” Lara replied.

  “Oh, nice,” Giorgio Gallucci said. “I’ve been to Brazil a few times. Lovely country.”

  “Thanks,” she said, scooting to the edge of the sofa. “We still have family there, and I visit once every couple of years. I always try to go when my mom goes.”

  “That’s nice of you,” he said.

  Troy studied the following questions his father asked Lara. He’d liked her… he could tell when his father approved of someone. She’d been congenial, but also with a spark, and she was stunning. His groin stirred. She’d been stunning in his arms when he’d kissed her.

  He’d wanted to make a point, to show her that he could act as much as she could. He hadn’t expected to feel so involved in the moment. Enticed. Aroused. If Michelle hadn’t stopped them, God knows what he would have done. They would have screwed against his car, in front of his folks’ home.

  His mother, Alessandra, nodded at something Lara said. Troy studied the others. His brother still mostly avoided speaking to him, and Michelle… his gut clenched. Michelle’s eyes flitted to his.

  He swallowed hard. She’d seen Lara. Great. Now, it was time to put the last nail in the coffin and show her and everyone else he’d moved on—he got married. “I have something to say,” he said, raising his voice so the chatter around him came to a stop. “The reason I brought Lara is… we got married in Vegas a few days ago.”

  “What?” His mother touched her chest. “Che peccato!”

  “That’s a joke, right?” Michelle frowned.

  “No, it’s not,” he said, putting his arm around Lara. She tensed up and glanced down for a moment. He gave her a light squeeze, encouraging her to chin up, and she did. “Lara and I met a couple months ago, and we fell in love and didn’t want to wait.”

  Surprise drained his father’s color from his face. “But son, I’m shocked. I mean no disrespect, but I didn’t know—”

  “We kept it under wraps,” she said. “We wanted to explore each other without introducing family quickly. I apologize for breaking the news like this.”

  Mateo shook his head. “You certainly have no respect for what real marriages represent. But that’s no news,” he scolded.

  His mother stood, all nervous energy. “I’m going to get the champagne so we can celebrate,” she said, clapping her hands together, and dashed out of the living room.

  He loved his mother, but she had the tendency to run away from problems. She’d barely acknowledged his sleeping with Michelle and preferred to let his father handle it. Troy always blamed his father for his old-fashioned way of conducting their marriage, but now, he wondered if his father’s proactive personality didn’t also serve his mother.

  “It’s a surprise, but I’m happy for the new couple,” his father said, his face regaining color. “Right, guys?” He cocked his head to Mateo and Michelle, prompting them to say something.

  “Of course,” Michelle said, plastering on a smile that didn’t hide her reservation. “Welcome to the family, Lara.” She went over to Lara, who surged to her feet, and they shared a quick congratulatory hug.

  Lara sat back down. “Thanks, you all have been very gracious. I’m sure my mom will be upset when I tell her she wasn’t there for my wedding,” she said, adding a nervous chuckle.

  His father scratched his chin. “We need to have a celebration. This is too big to go without one.”

  Lara gave him a sideway glance, then lifted her hand in denial. “No, I didn’t mean that. I meant—”

  “Oh, we know what you mean, cara mia. But now you’re family and we need to have a party.”

  Her throat visibly worked
.

  “We didn’t want to make a big deal,” Troy said, his voice losing energy at the end. Hell, wasn’t this what he wanted? For his family to buy this idea of him married and established? A reception party would further his plan. His parents would be more at ease, and the event perhaps would help him regain ground with his brother. If his father gave Troy control of the family business, Mateo had no choice but to support him.

  “This is a big deal. We need to celebrate,” his father said.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” Mateo said, standing up. “I’m not in the mood for celebrating.”

  Tension crackled in the air. Mateo clenched his jaw, fingers balled into fists. He stared at Troy directly, almost challenging him to talk back, to fight, to do something they’d both regret afterward. Acid spilled into his stomach. The resentment in his brother’s eyes brought a lump to his throat. For a moment, every part of him stilled, all of his muscles tight and taut.

  He’d done that to his brother. To his family. And why? Why had he fucked up so bad and for what reason? He’d asked himself that—couldn’t keep blaming on the alcohol. He’d sabotaged himself. He was a fuck up. An impostor. Underneath the successful exterior, he was a fuck up—and everyone in that room knew it.

  “What’s going on?” Lara asked in a low voice, obviously the only one who didn’t know.

  Michelle rubbed her forehead, embarrassed.

  Mateo frowned at him. “So you didn’t tell her? You haven’t told the woman you married that you fucked your brother’s wife?”

  “Mateo, we’ve talked about this,” their father said in Italian.

  But Mateo shot his father a cold look and left the living room. Quickly, Michelle followed him, head down.

  Troy’s heart skipped a beat. He glanced at Lara, who shifted in the sofa, angling herself so she could fully see his facial expressions. He hadn’t known her for long, but the disappointment in her eyes was obvious. And it made his heartbeat resume in a much more erratic rhythm.