Bad Enemy (Bad Girls Club Book 4)

by Carmen Falcone

  “Of course. Listen, I’m handling things here. I didn’t even think to tell you about last night because I’m an adult. So is Conor, even though he doesn’t act like one. Couldn’t even beat me himself, had to rely on a muscle head.”

  His father studied his face, probably looking at the bruise still under his eye.

  Troy drew in a breath and looked away. He didn’t need his father’s pity—didn’t want it.

  “Have you been talking to your brother?” his father asked.

  “No.”

  “Try calling him some time. Or arranging a meeting.”

  He doesn’t want to see me. “I’ve given him time.” He’d tried text messaging and calling his brother, but after their tense exchange after the affair, his brother hadn’t replied. He couldn’t blame him. He’d punched Conor’s lights out when he simply insulted Lara. What would he do if Mateo had slept with Lara?

  He’d done it—he’d bedded Michelle, who had been with his brother for years. Troy had disrespected his brotherhood, their marriage, and good, old-fashioned family values. The weight of it burdened his shoulders, his heart.

  His father cocked his head to one side, sizing him up. Warning him. “Too much time can be dangerous. Makes people feel comfortable being apart from each other. It’s easy to forget what being together means.”

  Troy thinned his lips. If he’d forgotten, he’d be happy, or at least, oblivious. Instead, he remembered with vivid detail his brother’s hearty laugh, the good times they had together, how he enjoyed making light fun of their parents’ quirkiness behind their backs. He’d lost all that. He’d fucked up. “I’ll reach out,” Troy said.

  “Before your wedding,” his father said, in a voice that left no room for arguing.

  Troy nodded.

  “I brought some coffee,” Lara said, reappearing and handing his father a cup.

  His father beamed with approval. “Thank you, my dear. Troy mentioned you were going to see the wedding planner?”

  “Yes.” She sauntered over to his side, and he caught a waft of her lovely scent. “Troy was coming with me, but now that you’re here, I’ll go, and you can keep him company.”

  His father glanced down at the cup, then took it to his lips. “I’d hate to keep either of you from going. Why don’t we all go? Then we can grab lunch later.”

  Surprise cooled Troy’s body temperature. Why the hell would his father want to go to a meeting with a wedding planner? Either he didn’t buy this idea of their wedding, or he’d started to like Lara and wanted to buy some time to get to know her. Troy inhaled deeply. He didn’t know which option would be more damaging.

  “So. Tell me how you envision your dream wedding reception,” a good-looking woman in her late twenties named Reagan Bancroft asked. They’d arrived to meet with her in the lush office downtown.

  Lara shifted in the beige tufted chair, holding on to the glass of champagne she’d been given.

  On her right sat Troy, and on her left, Giorgio.

  She held the stem so tightly she half expected it to shatter in a million pieces. What the hell? First, she’d overheard Troy telling her father-in-law that the real reason he’d hit Conor had been because Conor had been disrespectful to her.

  Her heart had done acrobatic flips in her chest and she found herself ridiculously excited. What did that conversation mean? Did Troy lie to his father or to her? Why would he keep the truth from her? She chewed her lower lip, pondering. A part of her clung to the belief Troy wasn’t such a bad guy… but then she quickly remembered he’d screwed his brother’s wife. And now, he lied to his family about the true nature of his relationship with her to get ahead professionally and earn his father’s respect again.

  “Honey,” Troy said, squeezing her hand.

  Lara shook her head, willing her musings away. “Sorry. Got distracted.”

  Reagan flashed her a smile. “No problem. I know this all can be very overwhelming, which is why I’m so excited you came to us. Would you mind sharing how you two met or what brought you together? I like to ask that to my clients because sometimes that helps set the tone of the celebration. You said it’s just the reception, right? No exchanging vows or anything?”

  Oh God, she couldn’t go through a wedding ceremony in front of her friends and family. Reception, sure, as it implied partying. But swearing eternal love only to have him leave months after? Hard no.

  “We’ve already exchanged vows, so all we want is the reception party.” Lara’s blood cooled. If his father hadn’t tagged along, this was the moment to say they met through a mutual friend. But this lie would only get her kicked in the ass later. She squeezed Troy’s hand, in a silent message for him to let her do the talking. “As far as how we met, we were both at a time in our lives when we didn’t know we were ready for a big commitment, but when we met, we learned we were ready for each other,” she said, pleased at how happy she sounded. “Troy does his own thing and I’m the gatherer. He’s grumpy in the morning, and I’m peppy. We complement each other in the little things, so that the big things don’t seem too scary anymore,” she said, emotion carrying the end of her sentence.

  Her palm went clammy in his hand, and she motioned to withdraw it, but he clasped it. The words that just spilled out of her mouth buzzed in her mind like a beehive. She’d said them with no problem, yet achieving that happiness seemed so far away for her. For them.

  She doubted he’d let anyone in easily. She doubted he ever had.

  Reagan clapped her hands together and shot them a look so sweet it gave Lara an instant cavity. “That’s lovely. Feels so true.”

  “The moment I learned she’d take me for me, I decided to tie the knot as soon as possible to seal the deal,” Troy said. His father chuckled behind him. But Troy slanted her a cute glance that sent shivers down her spine.

  Damn the man. He was so good at lying even she was falling for it. What? No. She swallowed, her fingers fidgety on her lap.

  She needed to pop that bubble of romance before it was too late. Crossing her legs, she stared at Reagan. “What else would you like to know?”

  “Well, from the email I got, you want to make it happen within a few weeks. Which means a traditional venue is almost impossible at this point. So we’ll get creative and consider other options.”

  “Actually, I wanted to have the reception in my backyard,” she said. Another idea that would land her in hot water, but the more she heard her own words, the more it made sense. Why not? She had a beautiful yard she’d designed herself, and most people complimented it. It was her home, and the place where she’d like to have family and friends come for her big day.

  “Are you sure?” Troy asked. “A venue may be easier, less stressful for you.”

  Less personal, too. He hadn’t said it, but she could hear the implied tone in his voice. She’d have to live with the memories of her short-lived wedding celebration at the end of her marriage. It would be easier to have the event somewhere else—much like the same decision she’d made when she agreed to move in with him instead of inviting him to move to her house. To make sure they’d have a clean break. “I’m a professional landscaper,” she said to Reagan. “I’m quite proud of my backyard, and I’d love for you to come take a look. Besides, this way we won’t have to stress over venues.”

  “I’d love to go see it,” Reagan said.

  9

  Troy opened his fridge and reached for a bottle of imported beer. Sighing, he twisted off the cap and gulped down a generous amount. After the meeting with the wedding planner, he went to the office to catch up on things, and now couldn’t wait to relax. Lara had taken the woman to her home to show her the backyard. He’d used the excuse of work not to go to her home.

  Why had she suggested them celebrating the wedding in her turf? Wouldn’t that make things harder later? Or maybe, a cynical side of him warned, she’d used the opportunity to show off her work and elevate her business. She had to know pictures of their wedding day would surface on social m
edia, and if her backyard was so wonderful like she claimed, people would talk about it, and the buzz would attract more clients.

  He glanced at his watch. A strange sensation swept over him—disappointment. He could feel Lara wasn’t home yet. Something about her presence pumped the blood in his veins, energized his heartrate and made him dangerously aware.

  The previous night, he’d fucked her.

  It should have cooled some of the simmering attraction between them, but it only worsened his state of unrest when it came to her.

  The doorbell rang, and he set his bottle on the counter. Who could it be? His father had returned to LA, and Lara wouldn’t ring the front door. She’d come through the garage.

  He opened the door to find a woman standing in front of him, holding a baby as two boys stood next to her. He took in the image of the slim brunette. Nikki. One of Lara’s friends. “Hi,” he said, opening the door wide.

  The boys didn’t wait for his invitation and dashed into his house, pushing each other like they were racing. “Where’s Aunt Lara?” one of them said.

  Nikki followed them inside and grabbed the huge bag from her and dropped it on the floor. “Yes, where’s Lara? She didn’t forget she’s babysitting tonight, right?”

  Troy cleared his throat. Lara hadn’t mentioned anything to him, but judging by the sparkling dress that Nikki wore, she had somewhere important to go. “Yes. She went out to grab some food and asked me to stay and welcome the kids.”

  Relief poured over her expression. “Oh, great. You guys are lifesavers. I’m sure she told you, my sitter bailed on me and the boys love Lara. My ex-husband is out-of-town too.”

  He lifted his hands in a silent suggestion she didn’t need to explain further. “I got it. You can go now.”

  “Are—are you sure?”

  “Yes, she should be here soon.”

  She put her daughter on the floor, and the cute toddler stood up holding on to the sofa, then made an exciting sound. A pang of apprehension stabbed at him. Lara better show up soon, otherwise he’d be stuck with not one, not two, but three kids. Couldn’t be that hard though, right?

  He’d dealt with unsavory types before. He’d had to fight men more than once. How complex could it be to watch three little ones for a few hours?

  Nikki flashed him a smile. “Thanks so much. Lara knows all about what they like to eat and stuff. David and Henry will fill you in too.”

  “All right. Go enjoy your date night.”

  “Thanks. We both have our cell phones, so let us know if you have any problems. The boys know them by heart.”

  “There won’t be any problems. Off you go.”

  She gave him another look of gratitude and scurried out of the house. He turned around to find the little girl exploring the living room. The boys began pushing each other and screaming, and he hurried to stop the fight.

  “Hey. Hey, hey,” he said, getting in the middle of the two.

  “Stop it, David.”

  “You started.”.

  Troy held one of them until the other was a couple of feet away. Then, he loosened his hold. His heart raced. What the hell? His first minute into babysitting and he already had to stop a fight? “Stop it, you two. What happened?”

  “He broke my Transformer,” Henry said, pointing at his brother, then at the robot toy tossed on the floor with the arm missing.

  “Don’t fight, boys,” he said, remembering all the times he’d heard the same sentence from his father. His mother would throw her hands in the air while he and Mateo wrestled, and his father would enter the room and the two of them immediately looked at each other and stopped. “Why would you do that? It’s just a toy. I can fix it.”

  “He started,” Henry said.

  “No—”

  “Take a turn. Doesn’t matter who it belongs to, tonight you’re sharing it. These are our house rules,” he said in an even tone, hoping those two wouldn’t pick up on his second guessing. He excelled at faking things, at showing coolness when he felt differently. Important skills in the business world, and turned out, whenever one had been goaded into babysitting.

  “Fine,” said David.

  The other boy grinned.

  Trouble averted. A strand of male pride surged through him. He’d text Lara asking about her whereabouts, but he’d also mention he was doing a good job. His chests welled—why did this matter to him? Why did he want to impress her?

  He grabbed the Transformer figure off the floor, studying it to see how he how to fix the lost arm again.

  “Charlie, no,” one of the boys screamed.

  Troy turned in the direction of his voice, only to find Charlie toddling her way out of his living area past the French doors and into the terrace—dangerously close to the pool. He dropped the Transformer on the carpeted floor. His eyes nearly bulged out of his sockets, heart drumming in his chest. Fuck. How did she get there so quickly? With a few long strides, he scooped her off the floor and lifted her to his arms.

  She cooed, excited, and her brothers came to them, concern in their eyes.

  “She’s good,” he said, ushering them into the house and closing the doors behind them. Relief poured over him, and he ran his fingers down his face. “How about some pizza?” he suggested, and the boys squealed in response. Ordering pizza wouldn’t be so hard, and hopefully he could bribe those boys with food so they wouldn’t tell on him that their sister had meandered by herself to the pool area.

  While he ordered pizza on his app, memories of his own childhood popped in his mind. He and Mateo loved playing in the backyard together. They usually dashed to the treehouse right after school and stayed there, building toys and sometimes wrestling each other, until their father called them to eat. His mother would always be in the kitchen. Even as their father made more money and hired a housekeeper, their mother usually stayed in the shadows, watching them. Their father had always been the one who played with them more, who read them books, even if they had to wait until he came home from work.

  Pride swelled inside him. Would he be a hands-on father like his had been? Hell, he still was… no wonder he’d come to visit him unannounced in Tulip. He wanted to check on him, to probe a little about reaching out to Mateo.

  “Helloooo,” said Lara, entering the kitchen, and putting her bag on the console table. She walked up to him, smiling, and the boys quickly ran to her, excited. She glanced at them, and a flicker of surprise flitted in her eyes, but she recomposed. “How are my favorite twins doing? And my little princess?”

  “We missed you, auntie,” Henry said.

  She ruffled his hair while David hugged her waist. “I missed you guys too.” Lara glanced at him and mouthed an “I’m sorry.”

  He waved her off, enjoying watching her with the kids. They were drawn to her to her endless energy, and she engaged them, in a way children loved. In a way most people loved, he told himself. He could think of a few grown men who would feel captivated by her.

  Catching himself in his own ruse, he shook his head and willed the thoughts away. Lara’s aptitude with little ones didn’t matter to him. Dwelling about it would be a waste of time. He walked up to her and said, “I ordered pizza. Should be here in thirty minutes. I’ll go take a shower.”

  “Can you join us later?” David asked.

  Troy inhaled. “Hmmm… sure.” He’d imagined his taking care of them ended the moment Lara, the one who had officially offered, entered the house. But sharing slices of pizza with them wouldn’t hurt, right? Plus, he had to eat. Might as well be practical about it.

  Wearing some casual shorts and a blue T-shirt, Troy sprung down the stairs. He’d showered, then texted Mateo, asking about a good time for them to talk. No answer yet.

  He’d give him a couple more days. Then he’d call—and if Mateo didn’t answer, he’d have to drive to LA to see him. Realistically, Mateo had all the right in the world to be mad at him forever. But pragmatically, they had to resume talking soon. Having to email Mateo’s assistant about th
ings related to work was getting old. And his father wouldn’t let Troy return to command the business until he smoothed things out with his brother.

  He found everyone at the breakfast nook, the same table where he’d had sex with her a day prior. Somehow, it seemed so long had passed since then—even though it hadn’t. Not rationally. Yet seeing her with Charlie on her lap, cutting smaller pieces of pizza for the little one while the boys wolfed down their slices, did something to him.

  An arrow lanced through his chest, squeezing his heart. He’d never imaged himself domesticated, with a wife and children. He knew he’d mess that up too. Even if he didn’t understand why or how, some things didn’t change. Innocent people didn’t deserve to suffer because of his failures of character.

  “Do you watch them often?” he asked, pulling up a chair next to her.

  “Yeah, ever since they were little. Thanks for filling in, I totally forgot about tonight.”

  He grabbed a slice of Hawaiian and put it on a plate. “No problem.”

  Charlie made some exciting noises and said something he couldn’t comprehend. She grabbed a handful of little pizza bites, and the boys chuckled.

  “You’re a greedy one, huh?” he said to her, touching her cheek.

  The toddler smiled at him, regarding him with interest.

  “She likes you,” Lara said. “You’re good with kids,” she said in a lower voice, a notch above a whisper. Like she had discovered a secret he hadn’t known he’d been hiding.

  “I’m good at pretending,” he said, winking at her. A wave of disappointment washed through him, as if he felt shameful for saying those words.

  Lara leaned closer. “I think you’re pretending now,” she whispered, then she winked at him.

  Surprise bolted through him, and he took a generous bite of the pizza, to keep from saying things he certainly didn’t want to share. She saw through him, didn’t she? She knew he pretended not to like kids, not the other way around.

  A shiver zapped down his spine. The idea of her reading him so well scared him—because he’d been pretending for a long time, much longer than their sham marriage.