The Italian Heartthrob: Forbidden Standalone

by N J Adel

  She bit her lip on a smile. “How did you know?”

  He gestured at the suits. “Again, not from you.”

  She sat on one of the red-and-black bar stools aligned against the kitchen counter. Her fingers reached for a blue vape on the marble counter.

  “It was expected anyway, after you bailed on me on Christmas to introduce him to your parents.” One of the worst Christmases he’d ever had. Almost as bad as his first without his mother.

  “I’m sorry about that.” Smoke blurred her face. “I just needed to get that done.”

  “Needed to get that done?” He scoffed. “How did it go?”

  “Like you said. Expected.”

  “They loved him?”

  She took another drag. “And he them.”

  He placed the scripts on the chair, adjusted his pants and went to sit beside her. “What happened?”

  She got down from the stool, about to change seats again, but he placed his hand on her shoulder. “Stop running from me.” With his other hand, he took the vape from her. “And it’s a little early for this.” He tossed it on the counter. “What the hell happened?”

  Her misty eyes escaped his stare. “She told me he was too good for me, and I’d better find a way to get him to marry me soon so he wouldn’t run away.”

  That bitch! “Fuck what she says. You know her. She’s full of it.”

  “Kyle thinks she’s a very practical and charming person.”

  He snorted loudly. “It looks like you didn’t prepare him for that meeting. Does he know any of the shit between you and her?”

  “Some of it, yes.” She pursed her lips. “But he thinks maybe I got her all wrong. He suggests I look at things from her perspective and give her another chance. Maybe I’ll start seeing things differently.”

  His teeth clenched as he pictured himself shoving Kyle’s head in a toilet after punching him toothless. “So he’s a douchebag.”

  Her fingers tapped on the leather cushion of the stool. “I’m so lost and confused. It’s not new, but it’s more than ever now. I mean, what if I’m the douchebag? What if he is too good for me?”

  He gaped at her. “Who are you? And what have you done with my best friend?”

  “I’m serious. I’m trying so hard not to be that girl who changed careers and boyfriends like dirty socks in extreme attempts to be happy. Because, even though I don’t regret following my passion, I wasn’t exactly happy, only less miserable. But choosing what’s right, like holding on to Kyle, feels like holding on to my old job with Dad. People would kill to have either, the prestigious job or the dreamy man, but I… I’m still not happy. I’m anything but. It shouldn’t feel that way, but it is what it is. I’m only making everybody upset. That only means there’s something wrong with me. I’m the douchebag, Mike.”

  “I’m fuckin’ dead serious, too,” he said, his voice louder than he wanted. “Listen to me.” He swirled her to face him fully. “You can’t let anyone tell you that. Never.” His hands cupped her face. “You were right to follow your dreams, and today is enough proof. And you deserve someone who loves you for who you are, for your bravery, for your confusion, for your beautiful flaws, for your incredible heart, because you’re an amazing person in every way. You are too good for him, not the other way around.”

  Tears slipped from her dark eyes. Then she buried her head in his chest. “I’m sorry I stopped talking to you.”

  His heart was banging, but he didn’t pull away; he held her shaking body as hard as he could. Let her hear it. Let her know. That fucking asshole was supposed to make her happy, not make her question herself to the point of angst. “Promise me you’ll never do that again.”

  “Promise,” she mumbled, sniffling.

  He kissed her head as his eyes wandered to the misfit door. “Why did you let that prick move in after what he said?”

  Wiping away her tears, she tilted her head up to him. “Because I love that prick.”

  His stomach convulsed as if he was punched in the gut.

  “At least, I think I do. Part of me does anyway.” She glanced at him for a few moments. “And you’re suddenly out of words.”

  He dragged his feet to the kitchen and leaned far in the fridge, his eyes squeezed shut, his breath catching. The cold temperature in the fridge counterbalanced the heat rising to his cheeks. “It’s…quite a revelation, don’t you think?”

  “C’mon, I’m not the only one who’s been keeping secrets.” Blame dripped from her tone.

  With a quivering hand, he grabbed a bottle of water, and then he stood behind the kitchen counter, his elbows rested on the cold marble. “So you’re mad at me? You’ve stopped talking to me and started hiding things because I didn’t tell you just one thing?”

  “Just one thing?” She raised her eyebrows. “Being in love…for God knows how long…is just one thing?”

  “Okay it’s the thing, but it’s not like I did it on purpose. I couldn’t tell you. What’s your excuse?”

  Her mouth hung open for a second, then snapped shut. “Why couldn’t you tell me?”

  “You watched the show. You know why. I can’t tell anyone about this. Not even…her.” It was a mistake right from the start. He should have never opened his mouth.

  She sat on the bar stool, her lips twitching. “That’s so fuckin’…romantic. So sweet.”

  “Yeah? Since when do you care for romantic and sweet?”

  Her shoulder lifted with a shrug as she took her vape again.

  “Is that… Are you…are you jealous?” I chanced.

  “Yes, I am,” she confessed. “There, I said it.” She shook her head, her cheeks flushed. “When I watched you blurting out about a secret, hopeless love, I felt angry and betrayed, but mostly fuckin’ jealous.”

  He stared at her sheepish smile and then down at her intertwined hands, his head packed with a million questions. “Why?” He chanced again, his throat tight with anticipation, a flicker of hope in his heart. Even though he knew better than to give in if she hinted that she felt something for him, and he was just torturing himself, he had to know.

  “I don’t know. I have no right to feel that way, but this is how I felt. It’s ridiculous, and…”

  He wrapped his hands around hers, and she flinched for a split-second. Slowly, she lifted her head, swallowing. “I have no excuse…for the way I felt, and for not talking to you. I have no idea what I was thinking.”

  Her thumb stroked softly against his skin, and his breath caught. “I needed to give my relationship with Kyle my full attention. I didn’t tell you about my feelings for him or living with him because you’d talk me out of it.”

  His shoulders slumped as the flicker of hope died. “So that’s what it’s all about? Maggie, you can’t talk someone out of real love, don’t you think?”

  Her warm sigh hit his hands as she dropped her gaze. “Mike…please.”

  He pointed toward the door. “Why didn’t you move into his place instead of installing this ugly thing?”

  “Oh, believe me, I tried. That was…” Her fingers contracted, claw-like.

  “What’s wrong with his place?”

  “Nothing. It’s just… I didn’t feel comfortable there. I wanted to change almost everything. So why do that when we can simply live here? I only put up a fuckin’ door to make a little private room to use when I need.”

  “Look at this place. It was perfect the way it was. Now, look at that stupid door. That tall misfit is the only thing wrong here. You must have tried every possible solution to fit that fuckin’ thing, but I know—and I’m not doubting your architectural skills—that thing will never fit here.”

  Her lashes cast a shadow across her cheeks. “Can we please talk about something else?”

  He didn’t want to drop the subject, but she was too stressed to continue. He would never want to add her to her pain, even if it was for her own good. “Fine. Sure.” He went over to the garment bag. “Come see one of your birthday gifts.”

&nb
sp; “It’s like three weeks away.”

  “Well, I know how much you hate shopping, and you’ll probably push the trip to the store to the last minute. I figured I’d save you the trouble.” He unzipped the bag, revealing a black evening gown.

  She placed her palms on either side of her face, gasping. “Mike!” She hurried to him. Her fingers felt the softness of the dress hung on the padded hanger. The one-shouldered top was made of buttery leather, crisscrossing at the waist. The panel mini skirt had a zipper on the thigh with a piece of lace underneath.

  “If you don’t like it, I can change it,” he said.

  “Are you crazy? It’s amazing.” She looked up at him. “And it matches those ankle boots. Did you buy this from Milan, too?” Her fingers searched for the tags fast. “Oh my God,” she squealed when the writing on the tag confirmed he had. She bent his head down to her and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

  He felt a ridiculous heat in his cheeks, as if he were a fucking virgin. “If there’s anything wrong with the size, let me know. I can get it fixed.” He handed her the bag. “It’s an eight, but you’re skinnier than the last time I saw you.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure it’s perfect.” She strode to the closet, hung the dress, and squatted, leaning inside for a moment. When she came out she had a small velvet box in her hand. “I’d try it on, but I want you to see it for the first time on my birthday.”

  “Um…about that—”

  “No!” She stalked back to him. “Please don’t say you can’t make it.”

  “I will try really hard, I promise.”

  She sulked, her lips pouting, her eyes glittering.

  His heart did something worrisome in his chest. “Oh, come on, Carolina.”

  “It’s okay. I know how busy you can be,” she murmured.

  “Don’t do that.”

  “Do what?” She pouted even more. The little dimple in the middle of her lower lip drove him insane more than usual.

  “That face. That tone.” He put his hands on her shoulders and met her eyes. “I’ll make it. I’ve never missed any of your birthdays. I’m not gonna start now.”

  A wide grin lit her face. “Yes,” she crowed and tossed her arms around him. When she drew away, she held the velvet box in front of his face. “I know it’s late, but I got you this for Christmas.”

  “Oh. Thank you.” He smiled as his hand worked the lid. The glimmer of the oval sapphire centering the silver ring in the box let a hushed gasp out of his lips. “It’s beautiful.” He slid it on his finger, admiring the detailed engravings in the silver around the stone. The beauty of the ring almost made him overlook the chevron bracelet nestled in the upper part of the box, also blue, with the letter M engraved in silver in the middle. He held the bracelet and glanced up from the box. “I’ll never take them off.”

  She took it from him and helped him put it on his wrist. “Yes, you will, when you finally confess your love to your mystery girl, and she dumps her boyfriend to be with you and gives you new jewelry.”

  “And we’re not done with that.”

  “Not till you tell me who she is.”

  I did. You just didn’t listen. “Okay, hear this.” His gaze locked with hers. “I promise you if I ever tell her, you’ll be the first to know. And I promise you, I’ll never take these off unless you tell me to. Are we good now?”

  “We were never not good.”

  He tucked her hair behind her ear. “Awesome, ‘cause I really need your help with something.” He got the scripts from the chair. “These are the finalists from the screenplay contest. I can’t tell you how much I love them both, but I can only choose one winner, and I need you to help me decide.”

  “Me?” She winced. “Don’t you have a jury for this?”

  “Yes, and they narrowed the ten thousand scripts we received to five, and I narrowed them to these two. I’m the final judge, but I can’t bring myself to decide. Please help.”

  “Okay,” she said, hesitant when she grabbed the scripts. “Let’s see.” Her eyes read the title of the first one, and they glimmered with joy. She grinned from ear to ear, making funny noises in the back of her throat. But when she glimpsed at the title of the second script, her eyes darkened, and her grin turned into an awful grimace.

  “What?” he asked, worried.

  She barely looked at him. “I’m so sorry.” Her voice was too low, he almost didn’t hear her. “I think I ruined your contest.”

  Scene 27

  Maggie

  Dark Hopes by M. C. Nickolas. I stared at the script cover page one more time, everything in my life spiraling down in one drain of WTF.

  “What do you mean you ruined the contest?” Mike chuckled.

  “I swear I knew nothing about this. I told them not to…” I stepped away from him and dropped the scripts back on the chair.

  “Knew nothing about what? Is there something particularly wrong with these scripts? Do you know who wrote these? Is that what it is?”

  I pressed my palms to my eyes. “I wrote these.”

  “What?” A surprised laugh burst out of his mouth.

  “I co-wrote Black Sheep with Raoul, but Dark Hopes is all mine.” I gulped. “I swear I didn’t submit. My friends must have done it. M. C. Nickolas, how fucking original! I specifically told them I wouldn’t, and they went behind my back. I’m so sorry, Mike.”

  “Sorry for what?” He grabbed my shoulders, shaking me. “This is…”

  My stomach tied in a painful knot. “You have every right to be mad. I’m gonna kill those fuckers. I told them it’d ruin the integrity of the contest—”

  “What fuckin’ integrity? This is…this is fucking awesome.”

  “Wait, what? You’re not mad?”

  “Mad?” he asked in disbelief. “I’m gonna kiss your friends…on the mouth. These scripts are amazing, exactly what I was looking for. And there was nothing in the rules that said you couldn’t submit.” He laughed again, his brown eyes sparkling. “I should’ve known it was you. No one could ever understand me better.” He pressed me to his chest. “I love you so much, Carolina. So much.”

  I shuddered, my heartbeat ringing in my ears. Thank God you’re not mad, but not the L word, please. Hearing it ignited every spark I’d been suffocating for months. He didn’t mean it the way I’d been dreaming he’d mean it one day, and hearing it like this hurt. Burned.

  “Do you know what this means?” he asked.

  That I fuckin’ won the contest, but the pain of my unrequited love for you can’t let me be happy for winning. I just stared at him, motionless.

  “You won, and we’re gonna work together,” he said, a big smile on his face.

  “You mean Raoul won.” I chewed on a thumbnail. “There’s only one winner, and I insist you pick Black Sheep.”

  “You can’t tell me which to choose. I’m the final judge of this contest.”

  “You asked for my help, and this is my opinion. Black Sheep is the best fit for you right now.”

  “Maggie, if you’re gonna make it in the movie business, you gotta be an asshole. You can’t give away an opportunity like this.”

  “If I’m gonna make it, I’m gonna make it on my own, not by climbing your shoulders.”

  “You’re not… I loved those scripts before knowing they were yours.”

  “But now you do, and you want Dark Hopes to win because it’s mine.” I tapped on the white paper. “You and I both know Black Sheep is the right choice for the time being.”

  “Are you saying that I’m not ready for Dark Hopes?”

  I folded my hands across my chest. “Yes.”

  “I know you’re lying.”

  “Mike, please. I can’t… I don’t want people to say I made my way in because you’re my friend, or because Andrea is my mother, or any fucking reason other than I’m good.” I gritted on my thumbnail. “Can I please have that?”

  He held my gaze long enough to break my nerves. “My decision is final.”

&
nbsp; “Fuck! You fuckin—” I snapped, my hands flying in the air.

  His hands squeezed gently around mine. “Hear me out, pazza, before you explode in my face…or have one of your panic attacks.”

  My chest heaved with rage and anxiety and shit.

  “Black Sheep will be announced the winner of the contest under your friend’s name. It’ll be Mondo M’s debut. But I’m buying Dark Hopes, too. It’ll be Mondo M’s second project, which we’ll shoot after you finish your debut with Robello. When you’re already in Hollywood.”

  My heart jumped against my ribs. “Why didn’t you say so from the start, asshole?”

  “Stop cussing. I’m not finished,” he commanded. “All this will happen under one condition.”

  I swallowed. “What condition?”

  “You will be the director for both projects.”

  “Motherfucker! You can’t be serious about this.”

  “As serious as dick cancer.” Before I could object, he glanced at his Rolex and said, “I’ll send you the contracts. You’d better find an agent real soon.” He started for the door.

  “What about your partners at Mondo M? They won’t agree to this.”

  “They sure will ‘cause you’re not gonna cost them. Besides, I have the upper hand in my own company. That was the point, remember?”

  “Go fuck yourself, Gennaro.” I ran after him. “You can’t do this. I’m an amateur!”

  He twisted, wearing his hard, plastic, celebrity face. “You can’t say shit like that when someone is offering you a two-movie deal.” Then his face softened into the loving friend he’d always been. “You’ll learn the ropes in Robello’s movie. I’ll assign you the best assistant directors and directors of photography for our movies. You have no excuse.” He smiled. The Mike Gennaro smile that opened every closed door, sealed all deals, made girls take off their clothes and kneel. It melted through my stubbornness, clouded my judgment, ordering me to submit.

  He lifted his chin, his hand on the front doorknob. “Get an agent, Kiddo.”

  “I’m not a fuckin’ Kiddo,” I said under my breath, dazed.