The Italian Heartthrob: Forbidden Standalone

by N J Adel

  For a moment, I regretted opening the subject. It was one of those memories I pushed to the back of my head. Maybe I should’ve let him win the argument and apologized to end this.

  “I’m listening. How did you become an architect? And what does it have to do with Gennaro giving you a blank check?”

  Hot rage flushed through my body. “Fuck this shit. Okay. When I had to choose a major, I couldn’t. You know me. I suck at making decisions. So, under Andrea’s pressure, I decided to become like Dad.”

  I sat on the bed, taking deep breaths. My gaze shifted to the bay window as I sought refuge in the calming view. “Feasible. That’s what she called it. I wouldn’t have to look for a job. The only thing I’d have to do was pass, which to her was questionable, of course.”

  I clutched at my arm. “I hated every moment of it, but I sucked it up and passed. I was so good I graduated in four years instead of five. All that just to prove her wrong.” I glanced over to him. “When I returned home, she didn’t congratulate me or give me the ‘I’m proud of you’ speech, or do anything any mother would do. She just chuckled and said she hoped I didn’t bring Dad’s company to the ground when I worked there.”

  Kyle moved to my side, his brows hooked, mumbling something I couldn’t hear. My lips curled in disgust as my mind replayed Andrea’s reaction in agonizing details. The cold eyes. The scoff. Everything.

  “Again and again, I found myself burying my every need, my every wish to prove her wrong,” I continued. “I worked for Dad for a year, one of the most successful years the company has had.” I shook my head. “But that was it. That was all I could take.”

  I bent one leg under me, tugging at the towel. “I made the terrible mistake of telling my own mother how I truly felt. Told her architecture wasn’t for me, explained how lost and unhappy I was. There was no way I could stay in that hell for two more years to get my license. But did it matter? She only gave me that God-awful look she’s always given me. The fucking look you give a failure.”

  He folded his arms around me and pressed me to his chest. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

  I closed my eyes, willing the tears away. “Right then, I realized I’d always be a shortcoming to her. Nothing would ever make her see me differently. That day I swore I’d never let her have that power over me again. I promised myself I’d never do anything I didn’t believe in.”

  “I’m really sorry you had to go through this, baby.”

  I sniffled, bringing my gaze to him. The soft expression on his face looked too close to pity for my liking. “You weren’t there, Kyle. Mike was. That’s why he jumped to help me with no questions asked. He knows exactly what going back to my old job means.” All the shitty feelings I experienced over the years I’d lived in my parents’ house swelled through me all at once. My breathing became rapid, yet shallow, a panic attack threatening its way into my chest. “It means she’s won…and I’ve failed.”

  He enfolded me as I shuddered. “Hey, calm down. Just breathe.” He cupped my face with his hand. “Look at me. Breathe.”

  I focused on his blue eyes, evening my breath, cuffing the memories. “That woman has hurt me more than you can imagine. What I’ve just told you is the tip of the iceberg.” I trembled. “So please, try to be more understanding.”

  He wiped his hands across my face and rubbed my wet shoulders and arms, his warm fingers soothing. “I will. I’m sorry.”

  Then he took my lips between his. I kissed him back. His tongue twisted around mine, taking my mind off the past, setting my pulse to skitter. In a good way.

  The towel was now on the floor, and his firm hands were all over me. “I love you,” he murmured as he settled on top of me.

  Here came those three words again. The first time he’d made that confession was two months ago. When I shoved my tongue down his throat instead of saying them back, he just smiled after. Since then, he’d said those words whenever he got the chance, and every time my response was hot sex. I could see in his eyes how badly he wanted to hear it from me. But I didn’t say it. I couldn’t.

  And not only because I was hung up on a silly fantasy.

  Long term relationships scared the hell out of me, and when I started dating Kyle, I had no intention to make it last this long. Seven months. But I liked him. So much. And when he did say he loved me, I didn’t freak out. A good sign that kept this relationship hopeful. Perhaps one day I could say them back for the first time. To him and not to…

  I bit his mouthwatering lips, stopping my mind from wandering off, stroking the bulge between his legs.

  Lowering his head, he kissed between my breasts while his hands explored their smooth skin. As his finger stroked the scar near my heart, I became short of breath again. He looked at me. “Is it still tender?”

  I shook my head, smiling. “It’s almost nine years old. This isn’t why I’m gasping.” I pressed his head back to my chest. “Don’t stop.” My fingers tangled in his dirty blond hair as his tongue moved in circles around my hardening nipples. “You make my pussy so fucking wet, Kyle. Fuck me already.”

  He glanced up at me, his lips stretched in a shy smile. “You know you don’t have to talk dirty to turn me on.”

  “I know I don’t have to. I talk dirty because I like it. Why don’t you try it sometimes?”

  “Because it makes me really uncomfortable.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I’m not used to it.”

  “Yeah, ‘cause you’re so…good.” I kissed his neck. “Can’t say dirty, filthy words.” I placed my hands on either side of his face. “Too bad.”

  “Why?”

  “I have a thing for bad boys with foul mouths.”

  He blinked, bobbing his head. “I can do it. Whatever it takes to get you going.”

  I giggled and held his swollen lips between mine. “You don’t need to do anything.” My fingertips ran between his thighs. “You got all I need right here, and it’s huge and fucking hard, and I want it all.”

  I hoped, when the time came, I would scream the right name.

  Scene 10

  Maggie

  The club was dark and packed with bodies wriggling to the booming music. I was one of those bodies a second ago, but now I sought hydration. I shoved my way to the bar and smiled at the one-dimpled bartender behind the counter. “Hey, Tony!” I had to yell, the music was so loud it vibrated through me.

  “Maggie.” He smiled back, making some purple drink. “More shots?”

  “Yes, please.” I shifted to fit among the people pressed close to me at the crowded bar. “And some water.”

  “Staying healthy?”

  I laughed. “Sure thing.”

  “You look good tonight. Celebrating something?”

  I fluffed the back of my hair. “I won a contest.”

  His cheek dimpled as he mixed more drinks. “Congratulations. Shouldn’t Pretty Boy take you somewhere fancy?”

  I turned my head over to the table where Kyle and my friends sat. “Pretty Boy did ask to take me somewhere fancy, but I said no.” I looked back at Tony, my brows hooked. “I thought you knew me better than that. I’m heartbroken.”

  He laughed, pouring my shots. “You broke mine first.” He slid the tray and the water my way, his olive-green eyes reproachful.

  My lips pressed in a thin line as I grabbed the drinks, memories of last year’s Christmas party, where I did break his heart, vivid in my head. I thought of something kind to say, but a touch on my back interrupted me.

  “Do you need help with these, baby?”

  My head jerked back, and Kyle flashed his pearly teeth, already taking the tray.

  “Thank you.” My jaw flexed as I nodded toward Tony. “See ya.” I returned to our table, Kyle at my back.

  My friends from film school, Amanda and Raoul, were sweaty from all the dancing. Raoul stood, his dark eyes red and glazed, and held his glass up. “To Maggie. May she win nine more contests.” He collapsed on his seat.

/>   With a laugh, I tapped my glass with my friends’. “Maybe you two could just chip in. It’s your fucking movie, too.”

  “I would, if I had anything.” He tilted his bald head back in frustration.

  “We’ll figure something out. Don’t sweat it, girl,” Amanda said, her forehead glistening. Good thing she wasn’t wearing any makeup. She rarely wore any; with beautiful olive skin, big eyes, heavy black lashes, and full lips, she glowed already.

  “The problem is that we’re running out of time. Submissions to the short film festival start in less than five weeks,” Raoul said.

  “I can try a few more contests or get more freelancing gigs, but I don’t think that will get us nine grand in time.” I sighed. “Looks like I’ve no better option than to take Dad up on his offer.”

  Amanda’s big eyes became bigger. “You’ll do what now?”

  “Yeah, I didn’t catch that last one.” Raoul stared at me.

  “Stop looking at me like I’m crazy. It’s the only solution,” I said.

  Amanda inched a brow. “Since when does Maggie Dawson do something she’s not passionate about, let alone hate?”

  “Well, I’ve never had to. Now, I do.”

  Kyle grimaced. “No, you don’t.”

  “Yes, I do. I’m not taking anybody’s money for this.” I looked at my friends. “Fact check: you guys still have school. I know you have part-time jobs, but how much can a barista and a waitress make anyway? I’m the only one who can make the kind of money we need. So…I’ll work.” I nodded, assuring myself before them. “I’ll tell Dad I can take a couple of projects for a few weeks if he’ll pay me in advance, and I’m sure he won’t mind. That way we can start the movie as soon as possible.”

  “Wow.” Amanda exchanged a glance with Raoul. “Mags, we don’t know what to say. Thank you, girl.” They took turns hugging me.

  Kyle wrapped his arm around my shoulder and leaned in. “What about what your mother would say?”

  A few months ago, that question would have brought me to tears and made me dismiss the idea completely. But now, even though it was going to be very painful going back to work and listening to the terrible things Andrea would tell me, I felt even more determined to make whatever sacrifice necessary to achieve my goals. I wanted to make this movie more than anything, and nothing was going to stop me now.

  “Screw what she says. A year ago I stopped seeking her approval. It’s about time I stopped caring about what she would or wouldn’t say, too,” I said.

  “These are big changes for one night, baby. Are you sure you’re up for it?”

  I downed my drink. “Maybe not. But I owe it to myself to, at least, try.”

  Scene 11

  Mike

  Mike rode in the back seat of a chauffeured sedan, scanning his messages, James next to him. They were passing the famous Hollywood sign on the way to Mike’s scheduled photo shoot when James set his phone before him. “Check this out.”

  A flash intro with bright blue shades and a camera played in the screen background, and a bold title appeared.

  Mike Gennaro’s Favorite Screenplay Contest

  Mike scrolled down, reading the contest information, checking the guidelines and allowed genres. “I like it. Perfect genres. Cross out sci-fi, though. Maybe in a few years, but not now.”

  “Cross out sci-fi and leave all heavy drama genres,” James mumbled, shaking his head. “You’ll get a bunch of arthouse scripts.”

  Mike glanced up from the phone. “Good. Maybe one will have a role I might care about. Actually, add arthouse action to the genre list.”

  James lifted his hands in mock surrender. “You’re the boss.”

  “When will it be ready for submissions?”

  “Three weeks tops.” James shoved his phone in the inside pocket of his gray, tweed suit jacket. “Once we hire enough staff, and the judges are confirmed, it’ll be on.”

  A shiver of excitement ran through Mike. “Perfect. I can’t wait.” He looked at his manager. “Thank you, man, for doing this.”

  “Don’t thank me. Thank your girl. It was her idea. I still think we’d be better off going with another Universal contract.”

  “Maybe she should be my manager.”

  His gray eyes clouded with a flicker of panic.

  Mike laughed, patting him on the shoulder. “Relax. I’m joking.”

  James sighed in relief. “Lately, it’s hard to tell.”

  Mike shook his head, laughing louder, his eyes on his cellphone screen. 11:42 a.m. She’d still be in bed. His fingers found Maggie’s number and hovered around the dial icon. He shouldn’t wake her up. He shouldn’t call her in front of James either. He’d just called her my girl.

  A few more seconds of hesitation then Mike’s finger tapped the icon. He convinced himself that he should call anyway to…thank her. Not because it’d been a week since that party and he’d missed her. Not because her voice had always made his day. And certainly not because he wanted to ask to see her again soon. Now.

  “I’m gonna call her to say thanks.” He didn’t know why he felt the need to say that.

  James quirked an eyebrow.

  One ring.

  Two rings.

  Three.

  Shit. She’s still slee—

  “Hey, Superstar.” She didn’t sound sleepy. Her voice went straight to his lips, stretching them into a happy smile.

  “Buongiorno. Do you wake up in the a.m. now, like normal people?”

  “Only when I have to.” Annoyed clicks followed. “How’s life treating you?”

  “Well. What about you? What are you doing?”

  More clicks. “Working.”

  He rubbed his chin. “On your novel?”

  She snorted. “I wish.”

  He rolled his eyes and scratched his eyebrow. “Why didn’t you cash the fucking check?”

  “Don’t remind me about that stupid thing. I should’ve ripped it to shreds before you stuck it in my purse.” He heard tapping. She was probably tapping a pencil against something. She did that when she was upset.

  He heaved a sigh. “Why?”

  The tapping stopped. “’Cause I’m under a lot of stress these days, and I really didn’t need to have a fight with Kyle over it on top of everything. I was never gonna use it anyway.”

  “Hold on a sec.” He held up a hand in anger. “What the fuck?” he asked slowly. “He’s got no right whatsoever—”

  “Mike, I know you don’t like Kyle, just like every other guy I’ve ever dated, and I know what you’re gonna say.” She inhaled. “But it’s not true, and he’s a very good guy. You knew I wouldn’t take your money with or without him, so please, just drop it.”

  She was right. He hated every prick she’d ever dated, but this one was different. He was no prick. He was…good. At least on the outside, the blond broker had his shit together. That made him hate Kyle more. Mike chewed on his bottom lip. “Fine. I’m sorry I caused this.”

  “No worries. We’re all good now.”

  He frowned. “Great.” Part of him hoped they weren’t all good. “Still, I wanna make amends.” He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. “Why don’t you swing by the AKA tonight…both of you?” Let’s see what that cazzone is made of.

  “Another party?”

  “You know me. Every day is a party at my place.”

  There was a long silence on the other end.

  “Please.” He pleaded repeatedly like a child until she laughed.

  “Fine,” she finally said, and he could feel her eyes roll. “See you tonight.”

  He closed his eyes, smiling, his purpose for calling forgotten.

  “You forgot to thank her,” James reminded him.

  Shit. Mike shifted in the backseat as James was forever twisting the silver Rolex on his wrist, eyeing him as if he were a hobo.

  “What?” Mike asked.

  “You’re fuckin’ smitten.”

  Scene 12

  Mike

  Wh
en he spotted Maggie entering through the door, Mike lifted the blonde in the golden mini dress off his lap and set her on the leather couch. He winked at the blonde as he rose. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Don’t take too long.” Her voice trailed behind him as he reached Maggie.

  “Hey, bellissima.” He folded his arms around her, peering at the giant in the silver suit behind her. Shit. He really is tall, and looks even better than the fucking photos. He took his time with the embrace.

  “Okay. Someone needed a hug,” she said into the cotton of Mike’s shirt.

  “I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” he whispered in her ear, his eyes on Kyle, who now had a frown upon his face. Then Mike pulled back.

  “Yeah.” She took a step back. “Okay. Kyle, this is Mike.” She gestured between the two men. “Mike, Kyle.”

  Mike stuck out his hand, and Kyle shook it. Fuck. His handshake was as firm as his gaze. Zero intimidation. “So you’re Kyle. I’ve heard so much about you. More than I should.”

  Maggie’s hand ran through the back of her hair as she glanced up at Mike, ‘what the fuck?’ written on her face.

  “And you’re Mike. Can’t say the same,” Kyle retorted.

  Mike grinned. “I find that hard to believe.” He shifted his gaze toward Maggie. “If you haven’t heard about me from Carolina, you must’ve heard about me from somewhere else. I’m everywhere.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t watch cheesy movies or read scandalous tabloids.”

  Mike feigned shock. “You’re not a fan?”

  Kyle returned a polite smile and shrugged.

  “I’m not surprised. The majority of my audience is women. Most men are just too…jealous.” He smirked at her, and she was glowering at the floor. “However, my Maggie doesn’t watch my movies either.”

  She raised her head. “Because I don’t like them.”

  “Which is why I’m finally making new kinds, thanks to your brilliant ideas.”