Bad Enemy (Bad Girls Club Book 4)

by Carmen Falcone

  “All right.” He clasped the heavy doorknob. As much as he wanted to stay longer, his brother wasn’t ready for forgiveness yet. Hell, he wasn’t ready for a long conversation about what happened. I have to respect that. “Just know that if you ever need anything, I’m here for you. Even if me being here for you doesn’t mean much right now.”

  “Do you need a hand?” Lara asked to Mrs. Gallucci, or Alessandra, like she’d insisted she be called.

  Alessandra waved her off, showing the oven mitts she’d been wearing as she sauntered around the kitchen and took the risotto from the oven and put it aside. Alessandra’s housekeeper had gone out of town, so she had prepared most of it herself. “I’m good, dear.”

  The scent of herbs swirled around Lara. She eyed the asparagus and the beef ribs, along with a hearty salad. She didn’t eat meat, but imagined Troy would love those ribs.

  Troy. How had his conversation with his brother gone? She kept checking her phone to see if he’d texted her, but so far, no luck. Maybe that was a good sign—Mateo had forgiven him or at least engaged in a long conversation about repairing their relationship.

  Lara shifted her weight from foot to foot. She’d been trying to get closer to Troy’s mom for the last half hour, but her in-law had a very polite yet distant way of communicating. Like the fact Lara joined the family and planned a party was an afterthought and not an event they did because of his parents. “Can I help you with setting the table?”

  Alessandra gave her a small smile. “Sure. I didn’t want to keep you. I thought you’d want to talk to Giorgio about the wedding plans. He told me he met the planner.”

  What about talking to them to you, too? The answer burned at the tip of her tongue, but she bit the inside of her cheek instead of speaking. The fact Giorgio was so hands-on with his kids’ lives was wonderful, but why couldn’t Alessandra be a bit more involved too? Why was she always acting like an outsider looking in? Those questions haunted Lara as she helped Alessandra set the table adorned with expensive and pristine linens and the most perfect set of china Lara had ever seen.

  “Troy and I are, hmmm, so excited about the reception party,” Lara said, once they entered the kitchen again.

  Alessandra removed her oven mitts and placed them on the counter. “So are we, dear. I’m glad Troy has found you.”

  Every fiber in Lara’s being warned her against making more comments. They should keep it superficial. Don’t rock the boat, her common sense pleaded. Not when they’d gotten so close to mending things. His family liked her, he’d been talking to his brother about a reconciliation. But a need to probe inside her shut all those voices down off. Her pulse skittered. “Are you really? You seem so… reserved. I just wondered if maybe I’m not—”

  Alessandra lifted her hand in denial. “Oh no, honey, you’re great. I’m happy you’re marrying my son,” she said, then regarded her with kindness. “Troy has always been my wild one. When he was little, especially after his brother was born, he’d always find a way to get into trouble. To get scraped or hurt. Always loved outdoor activities and sports, that one.” She touched her chest, exhaling. An emotion touched her eyes, darkening them for a moment. Then, they became glossy. Teary. Sad.

  Lara’s throat went dry. “Do you think he’d do that to get your attention?”

  Alessandra nodded, slowly. “Yes. It was common at first… sibling rivalry. It happens especially when they’re so young.” A tear fell down her cheek. “Once, I’d been with Mateo all weekend because he had a flu. Poor thing. And next day, Troy had an accident with his bike and got a few stitches.”

  Lara stepped back until her backside hit the counter. She’d always wondered about Troy’s reason for acting the way he had. The so-called fuck up excuse. Did he have mommy issues instead of daddy issues? Had he subconsciously sabotaged his relationship with his own brother to get his mother’s attention—since he was no longer a child and couldn’t count on cuts and scratches? “Was he okay?”

  “Yes. My husband took him to the emergency room. I learned then to let him take reins on all things.”

  She still did that. All of it made sense now—the way Alessandra had fled the room when Mateo had told his brother off that night Lara met them. How she didn’t visit Troy and kept her subjects on a superficial level with everyone. How to thread this, though? Acid burned in Lara’s stomach.

  Lara had loved her father, but she always had a special connection to her mother. How would she feel if her mother had become emotionally unavailable? She’d be hurt. She’d be damaged.

  Cold sweat slicked her palms. “I don’t have children, so I can’t tell you how to parent nor would want to. But, as a daughter, I can say even as adults, we need our parents. They don’t have to always agree with us or say or do the right things.”

  Alessandra wiped the tears from her cheek, as new ones brimmed her lids. “You’re right, dear. I grew up in an old-fashioned family, and thought the best I could do for my boys would be letting my husband take the lead.”

  Lara erased the distance between them and gave her a hug. Alessandra hugged her back, the emotion in her sobs rumbling through Lara’s body like a powerful energy. Tears welled up inside Lara as well. She stroked Alessandra’s back gently until silence cast over them, and Alessandra disengaged from the embrace.

  “You’re a good woman, Lara. One day you’ll be an excellent, caring mother. I hope to be for those children a much better grandmother than I was a mother.”

  Lara drew a deep breath. She only hoped she’d get to that point with Troy…

  12

  “So you never told me how it went with your brother,” Lara said when they entered their room. He’d arrived shortly after she had set at the table with his parents, and kept the conversation light. She’d assumed he didn’t want to talk about Mateo in front of his parents, so she didn’t poke him about it.

  But now, especially after the revelation from his mother, Lara felt unease. A pulse throbbed in the base of her throat. Should she tell him what she found out? He’d lived it—he knew what kind of mother Alessandra had been. Agreeable, easy going, and mainly reserved. Didn’t chastise her children for bad behavior, but didn’t deal with it either. She resorted to her husband, who was happy to take the lead. Neither of them was awful people by any means, but those actions had consequences.

  Troy removed his shirt and put it on the chair. Then, he went on to undo his buckle and placed it on the desk. She had to peel his eyes from him not to get distracted. “It went okay, I guess. I don’t see us toasting to world peace anytime soon, but he said he’ll be more approachable about work stuff, so that’s a start.”

  “Is that enough for your father?” Is it enough for you? A little progress was better than no progress, and she wasn’t about to make him feel bad for what he’d achieved tonight.

  “I hope so. It’s progress from all the phone calls he avoided from me.”

  She threaded her fingers together, fidgety. “Did you see Michelle?”

  “Yeah. She was surprised to see me, but I’m sure deep down she wants this drama to end too.”

  “I can imagine,” she said. Michelle had seemed like a good caring person. She probably didn’t want this tense situation to expand for much longer. No one gained anything from it.

  Slowly, he shortened the distance between them until he stood dangerously close to her. The notes of his scent swirled around her, and she cleared her throat. Tingles of awareness spread through her, her body responding to his nearness in a degree which stunned her.

  “My mom told me how much she likes you,” he said.

  Lara lifted an eyebrow. How long ago had that been? His mother could have said it before their chat in the kitchen, just being cordial. “When did she say that?”

  “After dinner, when I was having coffee with Dad.”

  Warmth fluttered in her chest. So she hadn’t ruined her chance in the family… good. “I am… glad. About your mother—”

  Shameless lust twinkled in
his eyes, and he pulled her into his arms. His strong, bare arms.

  She felt herself soften, her mouth parting, all of her caught in a net of desire. She rested her hands on his chest, but the courage to push him away and finish the conversation disappeared quicker than flying birds in the rain. “I talked to her and—”

  “And you’ve made an impression,” he said, his gaze blatant and fiery. “Now, I say we forget about my mom and impress each other instead.” He snatched her even closer, and the moment she felt his hard-on against her, a thrill of anticipation traveled through her. Yep. That conversation could surely wait.

  He skimmed his hands down her body, causing shivers of awareness to course through her from top to bottom. Then, he turned her around so her back touched his front and tugged at her hair just enough, coaxing her to lean on him.

  The moment his lips slid down her neck, she moaned. He sank his teeth on her flesh, and goose bumps raised on her arms. Her knees nearly betrayed her, and he let out a hearty sound, a mix between a growl and a deep chuckle—the sound of a man who knew he drove his woman crazy. And she wanted to be his woman, more than anything.

  He worked his way to her ear, and when his breath fanned over her earlobe, her nipples tightened achingly. A stir of fiery hot need formed behind her breasts, and as if sensing her, so attuned to her needs, he glided his hands down her breasts and cupped them over her shirt. “You’re so fucking sexy.”

  He kept caressing her tits over her shirt, earning a couple of more moans from her. She bobbed her head, disoriented, loving how he played her like a violin. He nipped her neck, and she thrust her hips into his. In response, he let out a sexy sound that rumbled through her. Damn…

  Knowing how crazy she made him only aroused her one notch higher. It also encouraged her to drive him crazier—for longer. Crazy enough to agree they were good together. A fake marriage perhaps, but a real connection had formed.

  She turned on her heels, and before he pulled her closer again, she lowered herself to a kneeling position in front of him. Excitement built inside her, and she undid his zipper and pulled down his pants and boxer briefs.

  His cock jutted out, enormous and delicious.

  She raised her gaze to him, and the look in his eyes stole her breath.

  Hunger. Desire. Urgency. Three emotions she knew all too well when it came to Troy.

  She closed her palm on some of his cock, unable to cover the whole thing even with both hands. Stroking him, she felt him grow harder and bigger in her hand. A sense of power swept over her, and on a sexual high, she slid her tongue along his cock.

  He groaned, thighs trembling. He grabbed a fistful of her hair, while she licked him from root to tip, her tongue swirling around his incredible cock. “Touch yourself,” he said in a low yet commanding voice that set her blood on fire. “Touch yourself while I fuck your mouth.”

  She left one hand palming his cock and lowered the other, reaching it between her legs. She brought his cock to her mouth the moment her fingers entered her sex, her folds soaking wet and warm.

  “Look at me,” he demanded, and she acquiesced. When her gaze collided with his, though, she didn’t feel like he was the one in charge. She kept staring at him, taking whatever he could fit in her mouth, grazing her teeth over his skin. He shuddered, and like an energy bouncing between the two of them, so did she.

  She understood why he wanted her to look at him. Not because he was the one who held the reins of their intimacy—but because she allowed him to do so. She could stop this at any moment… not that she would. But she had the power.

  She drove him mad with desire, unlike she’d thought hard to do when she met him. Pure sexual hunger flickered in his eyes, and she’d put it there.

  The realization unlocked a female superhero high inside of her, and she flicked her clit with her thumb, thrusting her fingers inside her pussy with the same urgency as the way she received him in her mouth, then he retreated his cock, then slammed it past her lips again.

  She did her best to accommodate him, her throat muscles working overtime. He tasted delicious, his skin soft over his hard dick, the balls full and heavy. Smooth.

  He tugged at her hair, positioning more of him into her mouth, and the way he pulled her hair made shivers race through her. Her heart hammered in her chest, internal temperature higher than hell.

  She continued touching herself, managing teasing flicks on her clit while thrusting her fingers deeper, quicker. The stimulation from him pulling her hair, sucking his cock and playing with herself sent her into overdrive.

  Soon, fireworks dotted her vision and ecstasy thundered through her, egging her on to suck him deeper, to take his cock in her mouth as deep as it went. He contracted his body for a moment, then let go, and she swallowed his hot cum, while still trembling from her own orgasm.

  Vision dotted, she barely registered when he swept her into his arms and carried her to bed. When she first met him, she doubted her sexual skills. With Troy, she no longer doubted herself. But she wondered if she’d ever be able to forget the man who helped her become more confident—because with all that she had, she didn’t want to. Not one bit.

  Troy wrapped the towel around his waist, leaving the bathroom and returning to the interior of the suite he’d occupied with Lara. The previous night had been insanely hot, leaving him surprised and baffled. He’d almost said things he didn’t feel.

  Right? Because you’re not falling for her. Of course he wasn’t—great sex had the power of distracting, of mixing emotions. He’d always been able to keep things separate, but Lara was his first challenge.

  Something sour shifted in his stomach, a sensation that quickly spread through the rest of him. She shifted in the bed, then reached for her phone and glanced at the time.

  He grabbed his own phone from the table, and checked his messages, killing time until he talked to her. Trying to calm his own response to the nearness of her and all it evoked. His notifications blinked, and he slid his index finger over a particular one. Conor’s.

  Tick tock.

  Fuck. A wave of anger washed over him, and he flung the phone across the desk watching it slide until it fell on the floor. His jaw clenched. The previous day he’d focused on talking to Mateo, then being with Lara. But reality hovered over him like dark clouds on a beach day.

  He’d have to do something. He’d have to—

  “What’s upsetting you?” Lara said.

  He glanced around to find her sitting on the bed, pulling the sheet to her chest. She must have picked on his mood quickly. Damn her. “Nothing.”

  Shaking her head, she slid out of bed, naked, and quickly took a few pieces of clothing from the carryon suitcase she’d brought. “We’re beyond that kind of bullshit,” she said, now fully clothed in jeans and a brown shirt that brought out her eyes. “Tell me.”

  Or what? The dare almost made past his lips, but he hesitated. He hadn’t shared about his meeting with Conor with her. He’d preferred to wait until he had a solution, but since she was onto him, he’d tell her. In a way, that concerned her too. “Conor got in touch with me, and he’s now saying if I don’t give him another property, he’ll tell my father the truth about us.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “What changed?”

  He glanced around the room, not focusing on her. “He wised up and asked a low life detective to look into the matter. Was probably impressed I agreed so easily to give him a property in exchange of him keeping the secret.”

  “What did the detective find out?”

  “That I slept with Michelle. Then, he connected the dots on why this marriage means so much.”

  She tapped her fingers on her chin, looking up the ceiling. Thinking. Though he doubted she could come up with a different solution. “If you give it to him, he’ll come back for more.”

  “I can have my lawyer put something in writing.”

  “I doubt work ethics are Conor’s strong suit.” She shook her head. “Let’s tell your father.�
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  He snorted. Was she for real? “You do realize that telling my father is the worst thing I can do right now.” His father would berate him for messing with the precious institution of marriage, lying, and taking a shortcut to redemption. A misleading shortcut. He could deal with his father’s wrath, but the consequences might include parting ways with the family business. His father wouldn’t trust him anymore, and he couldn’t blame him. He ran his fingers down his face, frustrated.

  She sat on the edge of the bed, facing him. “Telling your father before Conor does might save you. Your father will get mad, but he’ll appreciate your honesty.”

  “Why would he forgive me so quickly since the whole thing is about how dishonest I’ve been?”

  “Because your father has been there for you. Always.”

  He rubbed his chin. His father was a family man, and had always been involved. But he also had his quirks, his principles, even if many of them had been twisted in the early days of his making money and his fortune. In other words, Giorgio Gallucci was no saint. “Dad is a good man, but he’s not the angel you’re painting him to be.”

  “I understand. But, listen, I talked to your mother last night.”

  He shrugged. His mother had approached him after dinner and told him how much she’d enjoyed talking to Lara. He’d assumed she was being nice. Had Lara told her anything about the true story behind their marriage? No. His father would certainly already know by now. “What about?”

  “You know how you’ve always been a fuck up? I believe a big part of it is you acting out because that’s all you’ve ever known… your mother said you would do that as a child—try different sports and activities, get injured and scraped. To get attention from her in some way, especially after Mateo was born.”