Estelle held her hand. “No, but you’re doing what you love and also keeping the business I created,” she said, tears brimming in her eyes. Her mother rarely cried. “I just want to say, sweetie…thanks for all you’ve been doing. I worked hard to keep that place and made some of my best memories there.”
A lump of frustration lodged in Lily’s throat. She wanted to tell her mother the salon would be turned into a freaking parking garage, but the words got stuck in her mouth. She couldn’t do that to her mother. Hell, she couldn’t do that to herself. She fished out her cell phone from her pocket and glanced at the time on the screen.
Time to make up my mind.
…
“What do you mean, he’s not available?” Lily asked after a woman with a clipped voice had picked up the cell phone number Marco had given her.
Shit. In less than forty minutes his offer would expire. Why was he playing hard to get now?
“Mr. Giordano is in a meeting. He asked me to tell you you’re welcome to wait in his office,” the lady with a British accent continued. “I’ll give you directions to the VIP parking lot.”
Lily barely registered the woman’s instructions, but somehow, she managed to remember them half an hour later when she pulled into the garage. The Giordano Tower was an impressive building, and she had driven by it many times without knowing a thing about its owner.
She marched through the fancy lobby, and when she showed her ID, one of the clerks took her to the elevator himself. How confident was Marco that she’d accept his offer? Very. She doubted he’d set all this up if he thought she’d say no—she could decline over the phone. It’d have been easier. Cleaner.
Her heart thumped at each footstep she took once she exited the elevator on the top floor. She finally met the woman she’d talked to on the phone, Claire, an elegant lady in her fifties who kindly showed her in and offered her refreshments.
Alone in Marco’s office, Lily skimmed the enemy’s territory. A floor-to-ceiling glass wall brought in natural light and showcased Manhattan’s financial district. An enormous leather chair, empty, and dark wood furniture screamed money. A couple of black sofas and several newspapers from different parts of the world were neatly stacked on the coffee table. To the right was a wet bar. She didn’t miss a closed door, possibly a bathroom. This was the office of a man who moved millions every day. The office of a man who wanted to screw her for money.
Heat coiled low in her stomach, like a simmering fire waiting for the fuel to burst out in flames. A part of her hated him for thinking he could buy her, and another part of her hated herself for wanting to fuck him anyway.
When the door swung open, she spun on her heel in a mix of dread and anticipation. When this whole situation ended, she’d look for a counselor. There had to be a reasonable explanation for her crazy behavior.
“Lily.” He locked the door behind him and walked to her with a wolfish grin.
She curled and uncurled her fists, worried her nerves would get the better of her. To get through this, she needed to exercise the self-control she didn’t have. “Marco.”
“I’m glad to see you. Please, have a seat,” he said, pulling a chair for her.
She sat, and soon he made his way round the desk to sit in front of her. How did these negotiations take place? She decided on, “I have a counteroffer for you.”
A slow smile curled at his lips.
She straightened her shoulders, proud of her external calm. “I’ll be yours for a month. In return, you’re paying all my debts and I’m keeping my beauty salon. I don’t mind if you’ve already bought the other spaces around me, but you’re not turning the strip mall into a fucking garage.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a sigh of annoyance. “Are we back to square one? How come your proposal gets you a lot more than before, and I don’t get the valuable piece of property my company needs?”
Not my problem. “You’re a resourceful man. If you look hard enough, you’ll find another solution or another place nearby to ruin and get your goddamn garage,” she said. If he said no and she lost her suite, she’d lose everything and be in debt for life. But she had to stand her ground and give her business a shot. If he wanted her bad enough, he’d do it.
“You’re smart, and I appreciate your persistence. However, I need that space and you know it. Are you willing to lose my generous offer and the opportunity for us to fuck each other’s brains out for a month?”
She stood, remembering what she had mentally rehearsed. Growing up, all her friends had been a lot more sexually aggressive and sassy than she’d ever been. She’d been a slow learner, a late bloomer, but at the same time, she’d heard a lot of stories on how to seduce a man. I hope they’re all handy now. Otherwise this is embarrassing.
“You’re missing the point. You’ll be missing the chance to fuck me for a month,” she said, and pulled her shirt over her head. She wished she had something sexier on, like hot pink lingerie and a suggestive trench coat. For now, her jeans and shirt had to do. “Do you know I haven’t slept around a whole lot in my life? Had a couple of long relationships, but that’s it,” she said, staring at him square in the eye. She didn’t miss the way his Adam’s apple moved, like he’d swallowed hard. His gaze held hers, and a delicious strand of female empowerment traveled down her spine. “I never even tried anal sex. I suppose it can be fun with the right partner, but the pastor’s daughter in me always thought that’s too much of an indulgence to try with a man you’re not married to.”
He rocked back in his chair, shifted in his seat, and from where she stood she saw the hard-on burgeoning in his pants. “Keep talking.”
“So I’ve never experienced butt play, or sex toys. Besides mediocre vaginal sex, I’m the next thing to a virgin.” She unclasped the hook of her bra and let it fall off her arms to the floor. During high school, she’d tried to minimize her DD cups as much as possible, to keep from getting too much attention.
He licked his lips, and a charge of heat bolted down her core. Shit. She hoped she pulled this off. What if he threw his head back and laughed, kicked her ass so she’d leave crying with her clothes in her hands? “Wanna see something cute, Marco?”
He gave her a slow nod, his eyes darkening.
She pulled down the top of her hipster underwear, showing him the tattoo of a blue butterfly she’d gotten when she’d been seventeen. Her quiet, small act of rebellion. “I love butterflies, so I got this done. I guess it’s the bad girl in me wanting to get out.”
His gaze slid from her breasts down her belly until he saw the small tat under her waistline. “Take it off,” he said gruffly.
She pulled up her underwear, hiding her butterfly from view. “See, I’d love to, but I can’t. Not until I have your word.”
With a sigh, he surged to his feet, thrusting his fingers into his hair. She didn’t move an inch, resolute in not giving in. She’d thought this through during her drive from visiting her mother. If he’d wanted her badly enough, he’d go the extra mile. All or nothing.
“When we settle everything, I’ll do my best to give you a worthy performance and take all my clothes off. Hell, I’ll even dance for you. What is it going to be, Money Pants?”
Chapter Three
Marco thinned his lips to keep from saying yes.
Did she know how much of a hassle she’d created by refusing to sell them her space? Or hell, refusing to do what was best for her.
If they didn’t make a deal, she’d lose her shop in a matter of weeks because of her mounting debts. He’d had a corporate investigator look into them—she had lost clients because a competitor opened across the street, but even before that her clientele had fled because she’d taken care of her father during his illness. Her mother had health problems herself, so Lily ended up taking care of both parents, thus not making enough money, and not showing up at work enough, canceling on clients.
She’d sacrificed for others, which was commendable and naive. He looked at her
now, half naked in his office, and a rush of desire seared his veins. Her past and how many lovers she had before him didn’t matter, but he believed her words. Despite the bold way she’d started her act, taking off her shirt and bra and almost sending him to the nearest ER with a heart attack, she wasn’t a woman who did this every day. The challenge in her eyes had an undercurrent of fear, of vulnerability, probably because she questioned herself. Her beautiful hair stayed in a low ponytail when it should have been framing her striking face.
Lily’s adorableness complicated things. She wasn’t a sex toy, but a smart, kind, caring woman. The kind of girl one brings home to meet one’s parents.
The kind of girl… An invisible light switched on inside his brain. His mind raced, a bolt of adrenaline rushing through him. Yes. How had he not figured this out before? After Elizabeth had declined his offer, he’d contemplated calling an actress, but even unknown actors had social media accounts and artists were, by nature, attention lovers. Meanwhile sweet Lily… “I’ll meet all your conditions, if you agree to a small one of mine. Something new.”
“What is it?” she asked, her voice unsteady.
He fixed his collar. Asking her to step in and pretend to be his fiancée seemed more preposterous than having her in his bed for a month. Of course, their chemistry resulted from an organic attraction, and there certainly wasn’t anything organic about a pretend engagement. Hell, he’d had a short-lived, real engagement in the past, and that one didn’t bring good memories, either. “In two weeks, I have a party to attend on an island in Italy. My grandmother is celebrating her last birthday,” he said. Why beat around the bush, when Nonna’s heart wouldn’t see another year? From what he’d heard, she was still quite functional, even though her level of activity had decreased, and she had nurse technician who she introduced to friends as a simple companion.
She shrugged. “Oh. I’m sorry. Is this your way of telling me you want to use those days outside of the thirty days? Or does it mean I get a break from all the sex?”
“Means you’re coming with me.”
She blinked. Twice. “To Italy?”
“Yes. As my fake fiancée. I want to give my grandmother the gift of thinking I’ve…settled down. That’s a parting present from me,” he said after taking a deep breath.
She rubbed the back of her neck. “Wow. That seems a lot more complicated than being in a room with you.”
“My family will adore you. All I ask is for you to remember this is just a farce,” he said firmly. Not that he expected her to fall for him, but he needed to be honest about his intentions. His doomed relationship with Angelica had shown him he wasn’t ready for marriage yet, or maybe ever. When that time arrived, he’d choose someone who was a good match in his life, using requirements that didn’t include an untamable attraction. Excess of passion had been what ruined his parents’ marriage, amongst other things, and he’d never subject himself or his future kids to the same fate.
“Oh, trust me, I’ll know that every second.”
He erased the distance between them and angled closer. “I hope not every second.” He made an effort to keep his focus on her face and not slid his gaze down her soft neck and unbelievably full, large tits. His mouth watered at the sight of them, and he’d nibble and suck them in good time. Now they had logistics to worry about.
“So if I pretend to be your fiancée, you’re all in? I get to keep my salon and you settle my debts?”
“Yes. Deal?” he asked, offering her his hand.
She glanced at his hand before stretching out her own for a handshake. “Deal.”
He pulled her close until her naked body rubbed against his, and she gasped but didn’t fight him. He inhaled her gorgeous fragrance and whispered in her ear, “I’ll email you the contract in a couple of hours. Are you safe?”
“As in I won’t steal your expensive watch when you’re napping and sell it for cash?”
“Safe. Clean,” he repeated, in a tone that left no room for misinterpretation.
“Yes, of course I am. I’m also on the pill. I did a routine check with my girl doctor last month, and if you want—”
“I believe you,” he said. “I also saw a doctor recently, but I’m emailing you the results just so you know I’m telling the truth.” He rarely embarked in an affair with a woman without using condoms. With Lily, though, he wanted nothing more than to be inside her completely. The idea stirred his groin. “Tonight, we’ll go out and celebrate our agreement,” he said, and couldn’t resist lowering his hand down to her cute tattoo, slipping a finger inside her underwear.
She looked up at him, desire gleaming in her eyes. She shivered under his touch, a moan escaping from her sensual mouth. His whole being tingled, his body sending him signs of arousal he couldn’t deny. Dio. He had to deny…for now. He couldn’t take her yet—not without the confidentiality agreement in place, or the other contract he’d have his lawyer modify. “Get ready, gorgeous. Tonight, your butterfly will soar.”
…
“Is she here?” Marco asked the hostess of one of the best restaurants in Manhattan. Dio, he hoped Lily liked sushi.
“Yes.” Karen smiled. “She arrived twenty minutes ago, and we sat her at your favorite table.”
He nodded. A habitué at the exquisite eatery, he knew exactly what that meant—the booth located on the second floor, in an intimate area. He strode through the soothing ambience formed by a miniature cherry blossom tree and several statues throughout the area. Low music played, more sounds than lyrics. He enjoyed coming to this place to relax after a long day.
Of course, he would have enjoyed it much more if he hadn’t been late. His plan to pick her up, to make their deal a bit more personal, went down the drain when one of his properties had an accidental fire. No one had been hurt, but he had to make a statement, contact the PR team, and quickly visit the location to make sure everyone was safe. His brother was still in Los Angeles, and he decided to wait to tell him they weren’t going to build the miraculous garage after all. Nico wouldn’t be happy, but he’d deal.
When he arrived at the booth, a waiter was taking Lily’s drink order. She smiled at the young man, and something inside him throbbed, like he could punch the guy for being the receiver of her radiant beam. One second in her company and he already wasn’t thinking straight. That’s why he needed to screw her until the novelty wore off.
“Hi,” she said.
He noticed the hues of gold in her green irises, the freckles peppering her nose and cheeks. Dio, she looked even more delectable than earlier. Her blond hair was up, with a few strands framing her face. A cherry-red lipstick coated her kissable mouth, and a black dress clung to her curves. The U-neck cut displayed a generous amount of the valley between her breasts, her tits squeezed into the fabric.
A surge of arousal bolted through him. Without yanking his gaze from her, he slid next to her, grabbed the napkin, and placed it on his lap. “Hey.”
“And for you, Mr. Giordano?” the waiter asked him.
“Scotch. On the rocks,” he said, grateful he wasn’t driving tonight. He’d entertained taking his own sports car and not using the limo service, but ended up deciding his hands should be on her at all times—certainly not on a steering wheel.
The waiter nodded and left.
“Sorry I’m late. I had to take care of something.”
She waved him off. “It’s okay. Like what you see?” she asked him.
Shit. He’d been gawking at her, his mouth watering at her beauty like he was a horny teenager who never took girls out. Certainly not like the successful businessman who had no problem in finding a hot date. “You’re wearing your hair up again. I was just thinking that’s intriguing, given your occupation.”
“Oh.” She touched her hair, then her hand slid down her neck. “It’s habit. I’m always doing stuff.”
He scooted even closer to her. “May I?” he asked, resolute in letting her know that though he’d bought her body for a month, her wishe
s mattered. In fact, he craved to fulfill each one of them.
“Y-yes.”
He touched behind her head, where a fancy pin held her hair together, then released it. Waves of sultry, silky hair fell down her shoulders like she’d stepped out of a shampoo commercial. His body rumbled, images of him taking her from behind and pulling her hair flooded his dirty mind. His cock strained against his slacks, and he mimicked her earlier move and let his hand glide down her neck. He felt her shiver at the contact and sighed.
“Sei bellissima,” he said.
Her breasts rose and fell, her organic response to him cementing his decision. He wasn’t the only one who needed this deal—she needed it just as much. If the contract gave him the go-ahead to indulge in her body without false promises, it probably also made her feel more comfortable with her sexuality, being a pastor’s daughter and all. She knew—he hoped she did—he wouldn’t judge her.
With that in mind, he drew an invisible, circular pattern at the base of her throat, feeling the pulse. She didn’t tear her eyes from him, and her luscious lips parted, asking, no, begging to be kissed.
“Do you like sushi?” he whispered.
She leaned into his touch. “I can’t stand it.”
His heart skipped a beat. “Good. Let’s get out of here.”
…
Lily chewed on her lower lip. From the moment he’d given his hand to her until now, guiding her through the restaurant, her flesh had become überaware of Marco. He must have given someone a sign, as the limo stopped at the curb in front of them the second they hit the sidewalk. A movie scene wouldn’t have had better timing.
When they entered the limo, the same luxury car that had picked her up at home and driven her here, Marco clicked the button to lift the partition.
“Sorry, sir, I meant to tell you there’s something wrong with the button. I’ll take it to the dealership tomorrow,” the driver said, starting the engine.
Good Girl Gone Bad Page 3