The Italian Heartthrob: Forbidden Standalone

by N J Adel

  “Maggie…I was just trying to please you.”

  “Please me? By cooking me chicken dinners even though you know how much I hate it? Or by inviting the person who has hurt me the most to my birthday? Or by taking her side the second you met her when I’ve told you exactly how she treated me? Tell me, Kyle, how would that please me?” My voice cracked. “How was I supposed to marry someone who won’t stand up for me? Someone who tells me I’m the problem?”

  His lips pressed together as he placed his hands on either side of my face. I thought his touch was going to make me nervous, remind me of how I used to feel for him, but it fell bland on my cheeks.

  “I’m so sorry, Maggie. I didn’t understand, but I do now.” He nodded emphatically. “Sweetheart, please, just give me another chance. I swear I can fix it.”

  “There’s nothing to fix. We just don’t belong together. I need someone who loves me for who I am, not despite who I am.”

  His hands fell limp. “And you think he does?” Bitterness dripped from his strained voice.

  “Yes.” I answered too quickly and bit my lip in regret.

  “He’s going to hurt you, Maggie.”

  I shook my head. Mike was the only person who wouldn’t.

  “Yes, he is, but you’re too stubborn to listen.”

  I sighed, wishing this conversation over. This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have let him come up.

  “I know nothing I say now will change your mind. You once told me you had to try things out first before you made your decision, so go ahead. Give it a shot. You’re a smart woman. You’ll see that I’m the right choice for you.” He stepped closer, his gaze level with mine. “So make no mistake, I’m not saying goodbye just yet. And when he breaks your little heart, I’ll be waiting to fix it once and for all.”

  Scene 43

  Mike

  Against his better judgment, Mike turned on the TV and flipped through the entertainment news. He knew better than to keep up with whatever was being said about Maggie and him, however; something told him when he called her last night, and she was in tears and didn’t say why, it was bad press related.

  His eyes narrowed as pictures and clips of Maggie going into her apartment building flashed around the screen. “Together Again or Not?” was all he needed to hear to send his emotions into a downward spiral. He locked the trailer and returned to his chair, watching what the tabloids had to say.

  “Our reporters confirmed that Maggie Dawson AKA The Kid, the young director from L.A., had finally returned to her apartment after she fled her birthday party with Mike Gennaro three days ago. While the Italian Heartthrob spent the past weekend in his Bel Air Mansion, allegedly alone, before he flew back to Newark this Monday, Dawson’s whereabouts for those days remain a mystery.

  “Shortly after her return, Kyle Burley, the handsome twenty-six-year-old broker and Dawson’s was-to-be fiancé was spotted entering the apartment building from the back entrance, wearing a cap and a black hoodie,” the brunette host said and pictures of Kyle replaced Maggie’s.

  “He stayed in for more than twenty minutes before he came down with a suitcase. Unlike Dawson, who refused to comment on any of our questions, he gave our reporters this statement.”

  A clip of Kyle played, one foot already inside his car as he talked to the press. “Ms. Dawson and I, like any couple in the world, go through some difficult situations sometimes. We both agreed to take some time off to figure things out and hopefully reconcile our differences. We appreciate it if you’ll give us the privacy to do so.”

  Mike turned the TV off and hurled the remote onto the table in front of him. It slid and landed on the floor in pieces. “The fucking prick!”

  He stared at the wall in his trailer and tried to think of harmless reasons why Maggie hadn’t told him about Kyle’s visit. When he found none, he grabbed his cell and called her. She answered, out of breath. Her huffs into the phone made him lose his mind for a second. “Am I interrupting something?”

  “What?”

  “Why are you out of breath?”

  “I kinda ran to my trailer to talk to you in private,” she answered. “I missed you, babe.”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. He was crazy to be so jealous, but he was crazy about her. “I missed you more, vita mia.”

  “You all right?”

  “Not really,” he replied, rocking his leg. “Why didn’t you tell me about Kyle?”

  She paused. “I didn’t think it mattered. Wait… How did you know about that?”

  “It’s all over the tabloids. What the fuck was he doing at your place at midnight?”

  “What do you… Mike, this is ridiculous.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut. “I know. Amore, just…don’t hide stuff from me, okay?”

  “Stuff like what? Kyle waited for me to come home so he could get some of his things. He didn’t want to let himself in when I wasn’t there because the apartment wasn’t his anymore. He’s…decent that way.”

  “Decent?!” He was past rage all of a sudden. “He gave the reporters a very articulate statement about how the two of you are taking some time to think things through and reconcile your differences.” He scoffed. “He didn’t blink, Maggie, as if he had prepared the speech all along.”

  She sighed. “Well, he did say something about not saying goodbye just yet, but I didn’t know he’d do that.”

  “And you didn’t think it mattered enough to tell me?” He jumped to his feet. “What the fuck?”

  “No, because it doesn’t matter what others say or do as long as we trust each other,” she said, her voice rising, too. “Or so I thought.”

  He ignored her comment. “What exactly did you talk about? I mean he stayed more than twenty fuckin’ minutes.”

  “Mike, listen. All you need to know is that I told him that we’d never get back together, even if you weren’t in my life.”

  “Obviously, you weren’t convincing enough. Text me his number.”

  “No!”

  “Well, he didn’t have trouble telling me to stop pursuing you before. I think it’s time I returned his call.” He regretted the statement as soon as it fell out.

  “Wait… What? When did that happen?”

  He dropped on the next chair, running a hand through his hair. “After the stupid talk show. He knew I was talking about you,” he muttered.

  “Wow. And when were you planning on telling me this, since you’re all about not hiding stuff from each other?” She stopped him before he could answer. “You know what? Never mind. I refuse to stay another second in this conversation.”

  “Maggie, wait…”

  “No, I won’t wait. And just so you know, in case you hear about it from the fuckin’ tabloids, Chester Monroe asked me out yesterday, and I told him to fuck off. Ciao.” She hung up.

  Stunned, Mike gaped at the wall, the phone still on his ear, his head barking with thoughts. As long as people knew Maggie was single, every hungry vulture would want a piece of her. How could he stand arms-folded, watching, pretending he had cold water running in his veins instead of simmering blood? How long would it take him before he punched someone like Burley or Monroe in the face, or worse?

  The world had to know she belonged to him and him alone. But how? Waiting out their movies would take at least a year.

  A year! I could barely make it through a couple of days in this charade.

  This not going public thing had to end. Sooner than they had agreed. Then there would be nothing standing between them anymore. Nothing but a mistake so far in the past that hopefully would never see the light.

  “Mr. Gennaro, your agent is here.”

  He flinched at the voice and the knock after. “Fuck.”

  Scene 44

  Mike

  “You’re a hard man to reach.” Andrea’s heels clicked on the steps as Mike held the door open for her.

  “Not really. You’re here, aren’t you?” He closed the door as she stepped into the trailer. “You’re
not my agent anymore, Andrea. You need to stop telling people that.”

  Her eyes raked him from head to toe and then swept the place.

  “Head on into the office,” he directed.

  She sashayed inside, took a seat, and unbuttoned the jacket of her gray suit. A red silky blouse with a low hem emerged underneath, the cleavage exaggerated as she bent more than necessary to put her briefcase next to her leg.

  Instantly, he looked away and sat behind the dark walnut desk. “It’s a long way from L.A. to Newark. What could be so important that you couldn’t say on the phone?”

  “If you have been returning my calls, maybe I wouldn’t have to fly here to talk to you.”

  He linked his hands and rested them on his head, rolling his shoulders back. “What is it, Andrea?”

  She opened her suitcase and laid a stack of paper held together with two big paperclips on the desk. “I want you to take a look at this.”

  He threw a swift look at what appeared to be a movie script. “You know I’m not considering new projects at the moment. I’m booked for the whole year. And which part of you’re fired don’t you understand?”

  “They specifically asked for you, Mike. They’re willing to pay an extra five million,” she said slowly, as if the words would make better sense that way.

  “And I have prior commitments.” He mimicked her slow, condescending tone.

  “Which part of extra five million don’t you understand?”

  “Andrea, you know I won’t take this project. Why don’t you cut to the chase and say what you’re really here for?”

  She looked at him, her cold expression unchanging. “You know why I’m here.”

  He smirked. “No, I don’t.”

  She crossed her legs, her eyes menacing. “End it with her.”

  His smirk turned into a sneer.

  “No one is going to approve of this relationship.”

  “You won’t approve of this relationship.”

  “Mike, this isn’t just about us. It’s—”

  “There is no us.” He raised his voice. “Never was. Never will be.”

  Her sickening grin spread over her mouth. “You sure about that, Mickey?”

  He leaned forward, hoping his gaze was convincing enough. “Hundred percent.”

  “I’m sure Maggie will have a different view on this when she knows your little secret. She always does.”

  If he had any respect left for Andrea, it was gone now, along with any remaining shreds of friendship or gratitude.

  “Think again, Mickey. This could end up really badly for you.”

  “And you,” he pounced.

  She snorted a laugh. “Excuse me?”

  “I know you don’t give a shit about your family, but you sure care about your job.” He rose from his chair, squaring his shoulders, and moved to her side. “If you say so much as one word to Maggie that’s gonna hurt her in any way, and I mean any way,” he leaned in, his eyes locked on hers, his lips curling, “I swear to God, I’ll make sure you’ll never agent again.” His voice took a harsh edge. “No, I’ll make sure you’ll never make another dime out of this whole industry. Do you understand?”

  She uncrossed her legs. “Are you threatening me?”

  His hand grabbed the edge of the desk. “I believe it’s the other way around.”

  A dangerous gleam flashed in her eyes as she stood. “All that for your little bitch?”

  Anger came in waves now. “Who are you calling a bitch? This is your daughter, you sick freak!”

  “I don’t care.” Her hand slid on his on the desk. “She’s taking you away from me.”

  His hand withdrew as if bitten by a snake. “Get out.”

  “Mickey—”

  “Get the fuck out now!”

  She shifted on her leg, giggling, and grabbed her briefcase. “You’ll come around.” Her shoulder bumped his as she moved past him. “Read the script and let me know.”

  Sick to the bones, he shuddered as she left the trailer, bracing himself against the desk.

  He’d hoped he could keep the past buried, but he wouldn’t take Andrea’s threats lightly. Even if he knew she wouldn’t dare expose him now. Not after he’d threatened to take away everything she cared about.

  Someone banged on the door. “Mr. Gennaro, makeup, please.”

  “I’m coming.” He got his cell out of his pocket and texted Maggie, asking her to forgive him, guilt pulsing through his veins. He’d just snapped at her for hiding things from him, when he was the one with secrets. Now, he needed to find the courage to tell Maggie everything and earn her trust. Before she found out the truth—or the lie—from the wrong person.

  Scene 45

  Mike

  FOUR DAYS LATER

  “Amore, you home yet?” Mike asked, his phone on his ear, his hand flashing a keycard at the door of a hotel room.

  “Actually, I’m staying at a hotel tonight,” Maggie replied.

  “Hotel?” He took his hood off his head, getting out of his shoes. “Paps that bad?”

  “You have no idea,” she mumbled.

  “Checked in with your name?”

  “No. Samantha took care of the whole thing. I even switched cars from set to here. Anyway, I took tomorrow off so we can have the whole day for ourselves.”

  “Um…thanks, sweetie. You really didn’t have to do that.” Biting his lip on a smile, he checked his outfit in the mirror and gave his hair a light toss.

  “What? Oh, please tell me you’re still gonna be here tomorrow.”

  “Well…there’s something that I need to tell you.”

  “No. Fuck.” She huffed. “A week was too long already. Now you’re staying longer? Shit.”

  “Amore, you’re breaking up. Just call me when you get to the hotel, okay?” He checked his chin to see if he needed a shave and decided it was good the way it was. Maggie liked heavy stubble.

  “I’m already in the elevator… Whatever.” She hung up.

  He chuckled at his reflection, and then he brought a pair of black sneakers from the suitcase on the bed and put them on. Waiting for her to call back, he headed to the wardrobe and punched in the pin code to open the safe inside. Then he grabbed the two jewelry boxes tucked in there and slid them in his pockets. When his cell chimed, he jogged back to the dresser and answered.

  “So what the fuck was it that you wanted to say?” she asked, and he could easily picture her face now. The hitch of her brows. The twist of her lips. The fire in her eyes.

  He laughed as he sauntered to the edge of the bed and picked up the flower bouquet laying on it. “Um…is it safe to talk to you right now?”

  “Not exactly.” She paused. “I was really looking forward to tomorrow.”

  “I’m sorry.” He left his room and started down the hallway, hiding his face with the bouquet.

  “So when are you coming?”

  He stopped at a room down the hallway and checked the number. 511. “Sooner than you think.” He took a deep breath as his fist knocked on the yellow door.

  “Give me a date.” He heard her feet approaching. “Shit. Hold on. There’s someone at the door.”

  “Does someone know you’re there?” He feigned shock.

  “Not that I know of.”

  He put away his phone and raised the bouquet at the door, hiding his face from the peephole. “Delivery for Ms. DeVries.”

  As the door opened, he lowered the flowers and grinned.

  “Get the fuck outta here!” Maggie yelped.

  Not the words I expected. He lifted a finger to her mouth. “Someone across the street didn’t hear you.”

  In an instant, she dragged him inside, locked the door, and mashed her lips against his. His fingertips pressed into her back, fire burning through his veins.

  He paused, resting his lips on hers. The look on her face was priceless. Everything a guy could hope to see in the eyes of the girl he loved. Love. Passion. Happiness. Everything.

  “I’m sorry for al
l the stupid shit that happened last week. Forgive me?” he asked.

  She grinned. “Absolutely.”

  “I’ll never go anywhere without you again.” He pressed his lips back to hers. Desire for her shot through every cell in his body, consuming his every thought. “Never.”

  Scene 46

  Maggie

  I glanced at the flowers on the floor, thinking what a beautiful arrangement of red roses it was and a complete waste of money. “Are those for me?”

  “No, for Mamma’s grave.” Mike’s breath was still catching. “Of course they’re for you.” He rolled on his side, pulling the sheets up to his waist while smoothing his curls off his sweaty forehead. “But you didn’t give me a chance.”

  “Well, what did you expect?”

  His lips stretched with a lazy smile as he gazed at me. My finger swirled around his curls. “You’re giving me that look again.”

  “Well, what did you expect?”

  “Keep looking at me like that and we’re due for an encore.”

  His hand reached under the sheets and grabbed my butt, drawing me closer. “Yes, please.”

  “Aren’t you tired?”

  “Not really.” His soft lips connected with mine. “But you are.”

  “No, I’m not,” I protested.

  “Yes, you are.” Shaking his head, he examined me with his eyes. “And you’re even skinnier than last week.”

  “No, I’m not,” I repeated.

  “Yes, you are. I know every inch of your body by heart. Why aren’t you eating?”

  “I am. I just can’t seem to keep as much food down as I want, lately. And I haven’t been smoking anything either, if that’s what you’re worried about.”