Bad Enemy (Bad Girls Club Book 4)

by Carmen Falcone

  “Like every other kid in the world,” he said, an edge of impatience in his voice. A dark emotion shifted through him, one he couldn’t pinpoint. All he knew was he didn’t enjoy her talking to his mother about him, or trying to be his armchair therapist. He’d never signed up for any of that.

  “No, it’s different. I’ve seen how guarded your mother is. She takes a step back,” Lara said in a gentle voice. “I’m not judging her, or you. I’m pushing you because I’m from the outside looking in and I have a fresh perspective.”

  “Well we finally agree on one thing—you are pushy. You’re putting your nose in where it doesn’t belong.”

  “Jeez, easy,” she said, lifting her hands. Her throat worked, visibly, and she lifted an eyebrow, regarding him with interest. “I’m your wife, doesn’t my opinion count?”

  The dark emotion from earlier boiled in his bloodstream, expanding his veins, pounding his heart. His throat went dry and thick. He should step away, change the subject. The more he trusted her, confided in her, the more he let this caring for her consume him, the harder would be in the end.

  “I asked you a question,” she said, her tone more assertive. “Doesn’t my opinion count? Or all I’m good for is some fucking for you to release the stress?”

  He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Lara, the deal was we’d be husband and wife on paper.”

  She jumped from the bed to the floor, the contours of her pretty face hardening. “We’ve been off paper for a while. Why is it so hard for you to come to terms with that?”

  Because he didn’t want her to be right—about his mother, about them, or anything else. If she were right and he’d been wrong, he’d have to deal with a new reality. He’d have to give his all to relationships, to her, without the convenient crutch he’d leaned on all those years. He’d be heartbroken and hurt for real—the kind no one could heal. The kind that scared him to death, because he’d never experienced it.

  “Lara...”

  She took a couple of steps in his direction, her eyes lasered focused on his. “Tell me. What do you feel for me? And cut the bullshit.”

  His heart raced like he was a caged animal, too close to his predator to breathe. Yet he managed to sound calm and in charge. “I feel like you’re better off as a wife on paper only.”

  “Why can’t I be the judge of that?”

  “Because we had a deal, and nothing that has happened made me change my mind.”

  Pain flashed in her eyes, and he had to mentally brace himself not to rush to her, to hug her, to kiss her. If he did that—

  “I’ve changed my mind though. Do you even care?”

  “No,” he said quickly. Lied. The conversation rattled him to the core, and continuing it would end badly. He didn’t need her side—he’d heard it, and a part of him agreed, which only made the whole thing more complicated. “You’re a good woman, Lara. But caring for you and your feelings right now is not something I can manage.”

  “Well manage this—I’m leaving.”

  A chilly sensation spilled into his stomach, and a knot formed inside, painfully tight. “What?”

  She pursed her lips, and a sour expression took over her face. “I’ll order a car service. I don’t care what you tell your parents. You can stay, but I can’t be with you another minute.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked, even though a part of him already knew it. He only didn’t want to admit it.

  “I mean the deal is off.”

  He stepped toward her, but she lifted a hand and he reared back. “You can’t do that. We had a deal—”

  Tears glistened in her eyes, but she wiped them, then took a long breath. Quickly, she recomposed and eyed him with regret. He knew all about regret and hated seeing it on her face. She reached for her bag and dropped some items in it, then looked at him one last time. “We did, and I’ve been holding my end of the bargain. But I’m sorry. I can’t marry you again, in front of my family and friends and make it a lie when deep in my heart I don’t want it to be. Goodbye, Troy.”

  13

  Troy cleared his throat. He’d texted Mateo earlier, asking him to meet in a neighborhood park near his residence. He didn’t want to talk to Mateo with Michelle close by, or his parents. Hell, it’d been hard enough to lie to his parents.

  He’d said a work emergency had taken Lara away, the day before. Some flooding issue in her office, and she had to return and deal with the plumbers. He’d stayed one more day to clear his head.

  What the hell would he say when Lara didn’t return? Ever?

  The wedding that wouldn’t take place.

  His heart thrummed in his chest. He slammed the door of his car, clicked on the key alarm to lock it and walked up to an empty bench. The sunny Sunday morning had brought people outdoors. Some kids played in the sandbox, and parents—or their nannies, given how upscale this neighborhood was—strolled their babies and walked their fluffy dogs.

  Sighing, he plopped down on the bench. Maybe his brother wouldn’t show up. He probably asked too much too soon, and couldn’t blame Mateo for not coming. But he couldn’t think of anyone else to talk to.

  He closed his eyes, rubbing his lids, hoping for a calmer energy. He’d been up all night, thinking of all she’d said—that he basically had mommy issues. All along.

  Cold sweat sheened his forehead. Why hadn’t he been more open to her opinion? Why had he acted so defensively when she’d just tried to help him?

  The image of Lara’s face formed in his mind, and he opened his eyes with a start.

  She’s right, he thought to himself. All of his mistakes were his fault, but behind them lay the desire to conquer his mother’s love. She loved him, she did. But, growing up, he never felt it much. Especially after his brother was born, their mom had seemed overwhelmed easily, and quickly turned to his father for the decision making part.

  His father had taken to parenthood like a duck to water, and even if he worked in illicit business, he gladly stepped up whenever he could and became the go-to parent.

  His mother was like a shadow in the background. A delicate presence that could disappear at any moment.

  Troy rubbed his forehead. Fuck. He’d expected his mother to be more like the other kids’ moms, or the ones he saw in the movies. And since he didn’t get that warmth, the abundant care, he subconsciously made sure he’d get her attention—one way or another.

  Hell, he’d broken his leg skating twice—and he didn’t even enjoy skating. He’d told himself he did, but now he could see what he enjoyed was the care she gave him when he was injured or ill. Maybe she felt bad then—that she wasn’t watching, and gave him the love he’d craved. As soon as he felt better, she returned to her shell, carefully yet firmly.

  Sadness filled his chest, welling up and making his throat coarse and thick. He’d lived all that, but processing it, thinking about it exposed fresh wounds.

  Still. Getting mad at Lara hadn’t been cool when she meant well. She’d wanted him to face these problems, these issues he’d ignored for so long. “She was right,” he said out loud, needing to voice it and hear himself even more clearly.

  “Who’s right?” asked Mateo, sitting next to him at the bench. “I come here and find you lost in thought. I waved, but you didn’t even blink.”

  Troy popped his knuckles. He shouldn’t take advantage of the recently small token of truce his brother had offered, but damn it, he needed to talk to someone. If he didn’t, he’d follow Lara’s recommendation and go straight to his father and ruin all he’d worked so hard for. He’d come clean, and his parents would not only be disappointed at him, but they’d also probably make him cut ties with the family business.

  He had more than plenty of money of his own, but he’d worked so hard to take his father’s place for good. Losing Lara, his career and his family with would be the end for him. “Lara. She told me some stuff I wasn’t ready to hear. Then she left me.”

  Mateo removed his sunglasses and gave him a good look. “Smar
t move.”

  The weight of a large cement block sat on Troy’s shoulders. Maybe he’d been wrong. He’d been so desperate to talk about it with someone, he’d texted his brother. But he’d tried to rekindle their relationship way too early, obviously. He should really just go—

  A hearty chuckle snapped him from his self-pity. “C’mon, man, relax. I’m here, aren’t I?” He patted Troy on the back.

  “Yes, you are, which makes me wonder why?”

  The playfulness vanished from Mateo’s face. He shuffled on the seat, looking ahead. “Michelle is pregnant.”

  Troy leaned back on the bench like the weight on his shoulders from a minute ago had collided into his chest, making it hard to breathe. A baby. He swallowed razors. Was it his? He’d used protection with Michelle, but these things were never one hundred percent.

  Mateo gave him a sideway glance. “Relax, it’s mine.”

  A pang of relief coursed through him, relaxing his muscles a bit. If she’d been pregnant with his baby, he could kiss rebuilding a relationship with Mateo goodbye. He’d never thought about making a woman pregnant. Though if he were ever to… he’d much more prefer to make a baby with someone who he cared about. Someone he admired and put him in his place. His pulse went on a low simmer. Someone like Lara.

  But this isn’t about my hypothetical child, he remembered. He gave his brother shoulder a squeeze. “Congrats, Mateo. You’ll be a great dad.”

  Mateo looked down at the grass. “Our marriage is in the toilet. I don’t know if we’ll make great parents to a kid.”

  “I’m sorry to hear.”

  Mateo waved him off. “It’s been like that for a while. Michelle is excited about the pregnancy. She thinks it’s a sign to turn a new leaf for us.”

  “It could be. Why don’t you act like she’s right and see what happens?” he asked. “Take a chance.” A young woman with a baby in tow and a small dog following her like he was the bouncer of a nightclub strolled by. Troy glanced at his brother—soon, he’d have a baby. He truly hoped that Mateo and Michelle sorted things out. The baby would be lucky to have two caring parents like them.

  “Like you are with Lara, by letting her leave while you stay here and bitch about it?” Mateo said dryly, but his words rang true.

  “My case is different.” A band tightened around his chest. “In a way, I pressured her into marrying me,” Troy said, not wanting to overwhelm his brother with information about Miguel and Conor. Besides, he didn’t want his brother knowing Conor had blackmailed Troy and possibly going to talk to him. That would only complicate things further. “But she’s too good for me. She doesn’t act like it at all, but I feel it. She’s kind, and generous, smart and always speaks her mind.”

  “Interesting. You said that she said something you weren’t ready to hear, and now you compliment her for speaking her mind. You’ll go after her if you have an ounce of common sense. She’s a terrific woman, and I’ve seen how she looks at you.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you’re an asshole, but she loves you anyway.”

  A chuckle floated up his throat. Mateo had a point. Whether he was right or not about her loving him, Lara had been supportive and true. She’d been his ride or die, even when he pushed her away.

  She’d been caring, generous, and so, so… lovely.

  “I love her too,” he said out loud, the words parting from his mouth like he had no saying in it. Except, he realized with his heart beating fast, he agreed with them.

  “Good for you,” Mateo said.

  I have to tell her. He had to step up, even if she didn’t feel the same way. What if she didn’t? Possible. He’d been an ass.

  But he had to do it anyway, and be strong for all the times he hadn’t been—he wasn’t the insecure little boy who fell and went to his mom for attention anymore. That boy had dictated too much of his life already. He was a man, whose only ache would be his heart if she didn’t take him back—and this time, for good.

  “Wow. So you’re not really married?” Brit asked.

  Lara shuffled in her chair. She shouldn’t have told Brit, as she breached the confidentiality clause of their contract. But damn it, she couldn’t keep it to herself any longer. She’d already kept it from her mother, which had been hard. And from her brother, who had finally called earlier. Miguel had questioned her marrying Troy, and told her she’d been a fool to fall for Troy—all true, and it spared her from telling Miguel the whole truth and making him feel bad for being the cause of all this.

  But today was Sunday, a day after she’d left LA, and the last twenty-four hours had certainly not made her less anxious or sad about the turn of events.

  Lara stood, pacing around her living room, while Brit stayed in the couch, eyes still glittering after listening to all events. “I’m married legally, and I guess emotionally, and no doubt sexually, but it’s all on my end.”

  Brit took the glass of lemonade to her lips, then leaned and grabbed some of the chips and queso she’d brought when Lara called her crying, begging her to come see her. “How can it be sexually on your end? Like you masturbated to him and he did jack shit?”

  Lara suppressed a chuckle. “No, we had sex. But I’ve fallen for him and he prefers to give some creep two fucking properties than coming clean to his dad,” she said, sadness leaking in her voice again. Because he doesn’t care about me. She’d thought he did for a moment and believed they were getting somewhere. But actions spoke louder than words, especially the mean ones he’d thrown her way.

  Ever since the beginning of their marriage, nothing had changed for him, and everything had changed for her. He’d given her not just her sexual empowerment back, but she’d foolishly believed in love again. Even against her intuition and her track record. Hell, even against his advice.

  She’d hoped. And now, here she was, drinking a jug of margarita and wallowing in regret.

  “Maybe he’ll come around?”

  “He had the chance to come around when I talked to him.”

  Brit crossed and uncrossed her legs, all nervous energy too. She had kids at home and a hot surgeon husband, who probably had plans for their Sunday together. Not to mention her successful business as a makeup artist and owner of a shop in town.

  Lara put her hair in a ponytail. “Listen, Brit, I’m sorry. I mean, thanks for listening, but you probably have stuff to do, and I’d hate to keep you.”

  Brit lifted her hand in denial. “Are you for real? How many times you’ve helped me? And you still do. We’re friends for life, Lara. Why would you think your problems don’t matter?”

  Lara’s pulse jumped at the base of her throat. She’d been so used to prioritizing her brother’s problems that somehow hers always fell behind. Why wouldn’t they? She had a nice career, a great home, and solid friends. A lot of people had a lot less and still managed to get by. “I don’t know… I guess Miguel’s kept me busy in the past few years.”

  “Now it’s time for you to keep yourself busy. With your wants.” Brit flashed her a gentle smile. “You’ve always tried to keep everyone happy. To help everyone.”

  “Yes. Well, my man picker is broken, so helping others gives me something to do.”

  “Is it really broken? Just because Troy didn’t agree with you right away doesn’t mean he won’t change his mind. A few seconds ago, you assumed you were being a burden to me and told me to get going. What if you left him too soon?”

  A bit of insecurity stabbed at her, but she willed it away. “That’s different… if he doesn’t love me, I can’t make him. Even if he tells his father, he never said anything about staying with me after the six months.”

  “Then he’s an idiot. And I’m down for toilet papering his house or sending him one of those nasty grams you can purchase online.”

  “I love your team spirit, but maybe not going through with the marriage is enough punishment,” Lara said, hating herself for how worried she became. She’d left him for self-preservation, but she never meant to k
eep him from completely making things right by his brother and his family. What would happen now, she wondered, how would he spin things to his family about their breakup?

  14

  “Dad?” Troy knocked on the semi opened door to his father’s home office. A mere formality to announce his entry.

  His father sat at the imposing table with a couple of computer screens to his right, and a half empty tumbler to his left. Several floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with leather bound books his father probably had not read but had bought anyway, to make an impression, filled the office. Also a large fireplace and a set of leather sofas. “Yes? What’s going on, Troy? Have you heard from Lara? Is everything okay at her work?”

  Troy strode to the wet bar, grabbed an empty tumbler and poured a decade’s old scotch in it. He took it to his mouth, and chugged it down like he’d been fresh from a dry January challenge. The alcohol burned down his throat, sending his senses into an overdrive for a moment, but there was a good chance that was just stress.

  He couldn’t go back and tell Lara how much he loved her until he talked to his father.

  Even if he put everything on the line. She had taught him to show up for those he loved. She inspired him to be better, and he couldn’t live that truth if his life with her—his real marriage, the one he hoped she’d agree to—was based on a lie.

  “Yes, she’s fine. The reason I’m here is… I love her.”

  His father rocked in his chair, visibly amused. “And that’s news?”

  “In fact, yes. I married her because I thought that would make it easier for me to get back in your good graces, make up with Mateo and also get control of the family business.”

  The planes of his father’s face tightened, his expression growing serious. The wrinkles around his eyes crinkled as he narrowed his eyes. He reached for his tumbler, but didn’t drink it.