Bad Enemy (Bad Girls Club Book 4)

by Carmen Falcone

  And hell, he was perfect too.

  She mentally slapped herself. Perfect? Nah. But damn the man—he had cooked for her. A god-awful dish, sure, but that simple act had melted her inside.

  “Been swimming since I was little. My father taught me himself,” he said, making his way to her in a couple of graceful strokes.

  “Your father is very active in your life.”

  “He is. What was your father like?”

  She shifted in the water. “He was pretty great too. Broke my mom’s heart when he passed, and Miguel lost his way too. I don’t know for sure if it was just my father’s death or a mix with teenage years and all. But it’s been a long process for him to find his way.”

  “He’s lucky to have you,” he said, his expression sobering. “And so is your mom.”

  “I’m lucky to have them too. But then again, so are you. Your parents are very involved.”

  “My father certainly is. My mother has always been more reserved,” he said, and she detected the sightliest note of regret in his voice. Did he harbor some resentment toward his mother?

  He leaned against the edge, running his fingers through his hair.

  “Just wait until she has grandchildren. She’ll be all over the place,” she said, in an attempt to keep things light.

  “Doubt that’ll happen anytime soon though. My brother’s marriage is on life support.”

  She touched his shoulder, coaxing him look at her. “Listen, having sex with Michelle was wrong of you and I hope you learned your lesson. But she also had sex with you, and that means something. Maybe their marriage already had troubles before you came along. You were just an outlet for her,” she said.

  She liked Michelle and hope she didn’t come across as judgy, but he had to know two people had been wrong.

  He canted his head, regarding her, interest sparking in his eyes. “Do you think I’ll ever be able to rebuild that relationship? I haven’t tried hard because I don’t believe I will.”

  She bit her lower lip. He’d broken the guy code and the brother code all at once, and she doubted his brother would give him a pass. But the slight anticipation in his voice kept her from being too realistic. “Do you want it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you can try.”

  “You’ve convinced me. I’ll drive to LA this weekend and talk to him in person, before the wedding. You’re coming with me.”

  She bit back a smile. He hadn’t asked her to come, he’d demanded it. Was her presence in LA meant to be the continuing of their marriage ruse, or did he need her there with him, as emotional support, when dealing with a hard moment? She parted her lips and was about to ask, when she willed her insecurity away. She’d preached to him about taking risks before, and now she’d follow her own advice. She’d go to LA with him and not question the reason—and hope for the best.

  “So, no strippers for your bachelorette party?” Brit asked, then sipped on her glass of red wine.

  Lara glanced at Brit, Nikki and Violet sitting on her sofa, four days after she and Troy had made love in the pool. Then in his bedroom. Twice. Ever since that night, he’d made love to her, cherished her in a way she’d never experienced. “Not particularly, but if you want them, go for it.”

  “I have to say I’m surprised,” Nikki chimed in. “I thought if anything, you’d request strippers, not veto them.”

  Violet chuckled in agreement.

  Lara grabbed her glass of wine and took it to her lips. She could see how her friends thought that way—she’d cultivated this image of sex vixen before and never set things straight, especially after the end of her engagement to Rory. Shame kept her from sharing such intimate issues even though she was always the first to encourage people to open up. She’d been a hypocrite through and through.

  The chatter around her stopped, and her friends regarded her, probably picking up on her contemplative silence. A clog formed in her throat. She drank a good amount of wine. “To be honest, I don’t think I need strippers.”

  Brit waved her off. “Oh, honey, none of us do. They’re just fun.”

  Lara took a deep breath. She hadn’t thought about when or how to say the truth to her friends, but the moment just felt right—even if her palms felt clammy. “No… I mean, Troy is the first guy with whom I really, really enjoy sex with. And I feel like I was an imposter all along, because I didn’t come to any of you with questions.” Or the truth.

  “Oh honey…” Violet touched her hand. “I didn’t know.”

  Emotion welled up inside her. She didn’t have to admit to it to her friends, but she desperately needed to. “I liked sex, but mostly did it for the sake of it and not because I found it very pleasurable. So I attracted guys who were most interested in doing it and not necessarily making me come. Then my ex-fiancé, he told me I was bad at it.”

  “Really?” Nikki clapped her mouth with her hand. They’d met Rory, of course, since he’d been related to Noelle, their dear friend who had founded the Bad Girls Club and died in a car accident.

  “Yeah. I’m having such a good time now that I feel safe to be more open and honest,” she said, remembering the conversations she’d shared with Troy.

  Nikki put her arm around her, pulling her into a hug. “You know you can count on us and tell us anything.”

  “Yes, including that loser’s address so we can kick his ass,” Brit said.

  A chuckle floated up her throat. “I’ve moved on, but thanks for the support. Which brings me to another idea… I’d love to invite Julie and Reagan, the wedding planner, to my bachelorette party too,” she said. She hoped her friends wouldn’t mind extra company, but Julie had mentioned she could get out more, and Reagan had been so sweet texting and calling about the wedding reception. Why not add to their group of friends? Single women brought a different energy.

  Lara bit the inside of her cheek. She’d already thought of herself as a married woman. That meant when Troy left her, she’d land on her ass. Don’t overthink, she told herself.

  “Oh, nice. Sure, whoever you want,” Violet said.

  “I also suggest from now on, we should have more women for our Bad Girls’ Club meetings,” Lara said.

  “You mean recruit more members, like, to add to our group?” Nikki asked.

  “Yes. We can always meet just the four of us too, but maybe once a month we can do a larger group for starters. Just think… how many times is one of us busy because of a trip, or work, or…”

  “A kid who got sick,” Brit added.

  “A husband who wants to take you on a date,” Violet said.

  “Exactly. This way we can meet more people so there’s not a problem if someone can’t make it. Besides, we’re such a supportive group—I’d love to grow it and see what can happen. You know, girl gang and all.”

  Nikki’s lips curled into a sweet smile. “You’re such a giving person, Lara. Troy is a lucky guy.”

  Troy… his handsome face came to mind, but also how caring he’d been with her—despite his not believing in himself when it came to relationships. The way he made her feel… a syrupy sensation spread through her, softening her muscles and slapping a smile on her face. I love him.

  Oh no… oh yes. No wonder she already thought of herself as married. The sentiment took root in her heart, traveling up and down her body with rapid fire speed.

  Her friends’ conversation fell into the background as the undeniable truth blanketed her like a well-worn quilt. Of course she’d fallen for him… she’d tried to deny it to herself, to downplay the depth of her feelings but damn, they were strong, and as real as the sofa she now shuffled on.

  How did knowing this, though, change things?

  He’d been more open. He’d surprised her with the meal. He’d let her sleep in his room—and cuddled her in her sleep. But, was it enough? What if she dove all in, and he cheated on her? Betrayed her like he had his brother, flesh of his flesh? Apprehension clogged her throat, and she touched her neck, looking at the wall but n
ot focusing on anything in particular.

  What if I never find out if he’ll be different with me? If he can be different?

  She chewed her lower lip. If she told him how she felt straight away, she’d scare him. Much like she had when she’d tried to probe him before at the bakery. She’d have to show him—slowly and consistently, without shoving it down his throat. And hope that would be enough for him to give her a chance, so she could give them a chance.

  11

  “Troy?” His assistant’s voice filtered through the intercom. “Conor O’Donnell is here.”

  Troy popped his knuckles. What the hell did Conor want? He’d given his lawyer the information about the property that Conor wanted, to transfer the deed and take care of the details. “Send him in.”

  An in-person visit didn’t sound good.

  Conor strode inside, his movements calculated and economical. He closed the door behind him.

  “Conor. Have a seat.” Troy stood up, gesturing at the seat in front of him.

  Conor waved him off, slowly stalking around, regarding the accent pieces and pictures on the wall. Troy sat back on his chair. He didn’t have time for power plays. Annoyance crept under his skin, but he kept his expression neutral. He’d already lost his cool with Conor before, and doing it again wouldn’t help. “What do you want?” he asked in a casual voice.

  Conor turned to him, hand in his pocket. “That’s not how you greet a friend, is it?”

  Friend? Troy squared his shoulders. “Friends don’t have their bodyguards beat their friends up. They do it themselves,” Troy said.

  A small smile curled Conor’s lips. “I could say friends also don’t beat up friends. But I’m assuming you already know that, which is why you don’t have real friends.”

  Troy tapped his foot on the floor. A restlessness stabbed at him, but he knew if he stood up or got close to Conor, he may do something he’d regret later—or not regret, but still put him in deep shit with his father. He’d been able to convince Giorgio he’d been in the right when he punched Conor before, but Troy shouldn’t push his luck.

  “That property you’re transferring to my name,” Conor said.

  “Yeah? You don’t need to send me a thank you note,” Troy said. Or pay me a thank-you visit, he added to himself.

  Conor chuckled, then finally sat on a chair across from Troy. “I’m here because I’ve been thinking…”

  A thread of frustration worked its way down Troy’s spine. Thoughts jumped in his head, and he balled his fingers into a fist under the table. He could only imagine what kind of schemes Conor had been cooking up. “Shoot,” he said.

  Conor drummed his fingers on the desk. “Well, I heard your father came in town and helped you plan for your wedding party.” A flicker of greed touched his eyes. “That got me wondering how badly you wanted to marry this woman you just met. So I was too quick to agree with your offer of the downtown property.”

  Troy snarled. Bile rose to the back of his throat, and he swallowed it, pushing down the lump of contempt. What he really wanted was to get his hands on Conor, man to man, and teach him a thing or two about keeping your word in business. But a part of him held him back, and he settled for clenching the chair arms until his knuckles whitened.

  If he fell for it and punched Conor’s lights out, he’d have more trouble than last time. His father wouldn’t believe the same excuse again. And he couldn’t risk it when he was so close to getting what he wanted. “What do you want?” he asked in an evenly tone.

  “The property next to the one you’ve tried to use to keep my silence.”

  He didn’t need a real estate agent to remind him the property he was talking about would cost him nearly the double as the other. Not only that, he’d have to deal with breaking a contract since that property was currently occupied. A lot of mess to sweep under a rug. “No.”

  “Don’t say it too quickly… think about it. How much is this marriage worth to you? Probably much more than those two properties.”

  Troy shook his head. Should he just deal with the consequences?

  “I hired an investigator who also told me you slept with your brother’s wife. Now everything clicked. I thought to myself, why would Giorgio Gallucci send his first son to Tulip instead of having him spearhead the business in Los Angeles?”

  Troy didn’t move an inch. Every muscle in his body tensed. When he’d betrayed Mateo, he hadn’t shared his shame with a soul outside of his family. He doubted his brother had either. But Conor probably had hired some low life who had a way to find out this kind of information—the bastard probably followed Michelle, talked to employees, hacked into her text messages.

  “I mean, I’ve seen your sister-in-law and I don’t blame you,” Conor said, then whistled.

  Troy surged to his feet, towering over Conor. “I’d think twice before saying anything else. You don’t have your bodyguards here with you today.”

  Conor removed a lint from his suit, then chuckled. He stood slowly, his expression sobering until a dark stance took over his features. “You have three days to think about it. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll go talk to your father, and trust me, all my bodyguards will be with me then.”

  He watched Conor leave his office, and when the door was slammed behind him, Troy plopped down his chair, hands in his face. What the fuck would he do? He could use his own money to orchestrate a fake selling of the property, and cover the costs of breaking the contract with the company that rented from them.

  But what would that mean?

  His father would still find the deal odd—and what guarantees did he have that Conor wouldn’t blackmail him again in the future?

  It seemed like there was no way he could win—and he hated that feeling.

  A day later, Troy looked at the enormous house in front of him. He’d driven to Los Angeles with Lara and left her at his parents’ then drove straight to his brother’s home.

  He hadn’t made up his mind about how to deal with Conor yet, but he knew that either way he needed to deal with his brother. That had been what he promised his father, and also promised himself.

  He always sucked at groveling, but maybe now was a good time to learn.

  He knocked the door, and a few seconds later, someone opened it. He expected it to be a housekeeper or a butler, and not Michelle.

  She looked at him, tilting her head to the side. Eyes on his. “Troy?”

  “I need to talk to Mateo.”

  “Is everything okay with your father? What happened?” she asked but stepped back and opened the door wide, allowing him entry.

  Of course she’d assume an emergency had propelled him to visit his brother like this. A feeling of faint sadness filled his chest. How could she expect the best from him when he’d only shown her his worst?

  “Nothing happened. I just need to chat with Mateo about a couple of things,” he said casually. Telling her the purpose of his being there would only bring more anxiety, especially to her. He’d already caused Michelle enough damage.

  She nodded. “All right. Well, he’s in the home office now.”

  “Thanks,” he said, and before she could protest or ask him to stay in the sumptuous living room, he strode toward the office. He’d seen it before—many times. Most of those, happy occasions.

  The door was opened, and he didn’t wait to announce himself or knock for cordiality. With his heartrate skyrocketing and blood expanding in his veins, he walked in.

  His brother raised his gaze from the sleek monitor to him, frowning. “What happened?”

  Troy closed the door behind him. He didn’t think Michelle would be the type to pry, but he needed privacy. “Mateo, I’m sorry I fucked up and slept with your wife.”

  A vein in Mateo’s jaw jumped, but he didn’t move. Coolness still oozed from him, even though Troy detected an undercurrent of tension. “You’ve said this before. What makes you think it’ll be different now?”

  Troy sighed. He remembered all the times Lara ques
tioned him, wondering about why he’d done it. Hell, she’d wondered more than he. He’d assumed he was an idiot, but she acted like something deeper had taken place. The woman had too much faith in him, obviously. “It’s different because time has passed and the damage I’ve caused has dawned on me. Also, I miss you. I’m not apologizing because Dad wants me to, or because it’ll be better for business and frankly, for me,” he said, words pouring out of him. A weight eased from his heart. “I miss your friendship. Talking to you,” he said, pacing the floor, knowing full well he was too amped up to sit.

  Mateo rocked back in his chair. “And that makes it all okay? You’ve ruined my marriage, and now you miss having a brother and I’m supposed to go along with it?” he said in a calm voice, but the hurt was there. “Not only do I have to deal with Dad telling me to get over it, now I have to give in because you’re lonely?”

  “Mateo, I fucked up. But I didn’t ruin your marriage alone,” he said, remembering the conversation he had with Lara. “It was the three of us.”

  He hadn’t been the only one to make a mistake—Michelle had, too. But why? What had driven her to cheat on her husband? Why was it so hard for Mateo admit that besides Troy’s poor behavior, something else was amiss in his marriage? Something that had been there before that sinful night—otherwise it wouldn’t have happened at all.

  Mateo surged to his feet and pointed at the door. Cold, hard pain glittered in his eyes. “Get out,” he yelled.

  Troy cleared his throat. Shit. “Mateo, I’m sorry. Let’s cool down and continue this conversation.”

  “I don’t have anything else to say or that I need to her from you. You’re the same selfish idiot you’ve always been. If you want to have a cordial work relationship, sure. You got it. I’ll do it so Dad will get off my back. But that’s all I can offer for now.”

  A cold knot formed in Troy’s stomach, twisting so hard it hurt. His brother wasn’t ready to resume their relationship, and might never be. But a cordial working relationship would have to do. It was a start, wasn’t it? He’d also added for now at the end. So maybe this conversation was a small step in the right direction. The knot in his stomach loosened a bit.