Dirty Flirty Enemy

by Rayne, Piper

  Carm has taken it upon himself to be my savior. He’s moved my office into his, making us share office space. Not that I’ve been there. Max is handling it all for me.

  I threw myself in therapy after the attack, since that’s what helped me last time. Today I’m purposely going back to the office without Carm knowing, because I have to do some of these things by myself.

  We haven’t even talked about what we are to one another, although I did smile when the detective referred to him as my boyfriend.

  I use my key. Besides getting the door fixed, I made everyone promise not to touch anything inside. The detectives just closed the case, so the yellow tape is off, and I step in. The smell of blood is the first thing that hits me. Then the disarray of the desk. The struggle comes back to me. I’m not sure how long I would’ve lasted without Carm coming to the rescue, though I do feel some satisfaction that I cut him with the letter opener.

  “What the hell?” Carm’s voice booms from behind me. “What are you doing? You shouldn’t be in here.” He storms in.

  “I’m good. I had to see it.”

  “Why do you keep torturing yourself?” he asks, desperation lacing his words.

  He’s questioned it many times. Every time I bring up what happened, he doesn’t understand why I want to talk about it. But talking helps. When something pops into my mind, I talk about it. Or when I cut myself shaving and the blood dripped down my leg like it did on the guy’s arm when I first pierced his skin, I talk about it. The therapist says it’s good that I’m willing to talk about it. That it’s a big part of why I’m doing better than last time.

  “It helps me put it all behind me.” I walk across the broken glass. “What are we going to do with this space? I have to clean it up and—”

  “No. I’m putting my foot down on that.”

  I can’t help but grin at his stubbornness. He wants to rule my life right now. Although he hasn’t said it, I can feel it in his actions and the words he does say—Carmelo Mancini loves me. And I love him too.

  But I don’t want those words to be tied to what happened here, so I keep them to myself. I want the memory of us speaking those words for the first time to be untainted. It’s why I’ve decided to go to the Hamptons this weekend. We need to start fresh.

  “I’m not talking about moving back in here, but someone has to.”

  “I told the landlord that I’ll pay to get everything fixed up, then he can rent it out.” He holds out his arms, and I walk into them. He kisses my forehead.

  Another great thing about Carm is that he always has to be touching or hugging me. We haven’t slept together or even snuggled in bed since the attack. He’s given me distance and comfort—two things I need right now. Who would’ve ever thought a selfish prick like him would be just what I need?

  “Come on. Show me my new place.”

  “I thought you’d never ask.” He grins at me.

  We walk across the hall, and I see the shiny new sign on the door.

  Mancini Real Estate & Scott FSBO Brokerage.

  “My name on the door seems a little permanent,” I say as he pushes open the door.

  “Because you’re a permanent fixture in my life.” He shuts the door behind me and meets my gaze. “Tell me I’m a permanent fixture in yours. I haven’t wanted to press the issue. I’m sorry about lying, and I swear to you I never will again. You’re the one for me, and I’ll never jeopardize that again.”

  I laugh as my forehead falls into his chest. “Yeah, we’re getting there, but I don’t see you going anywhere either.”

  He wraps me up in his arms, and I feel the tension leave his body.

  That weekend in the Hamptons, I take him to the beach as the moon is high in the sky and reflecting off the ocean. I thank him for everything he’s done for me. And I start to say I love him, but he presses his finger to my lips. Before I can finish, he says the words, beating me in true Carm fashion.

  We seal our new love with a kiss, and that night, he slides in under the covers and cuddles me. I’ve never felt more safe, secure, and loved.

  Epilogue

  Carm

  Almost one year later

  “I don’t wanna go bungee jumping,” I whine, sitting up in the hotel bed and watching Bella throw a sundress over her body, sans bra. She’s trying to kill me. I know it.

  “You love to do those dangerous things.” She climbs across the bed and straddles me, then puts on the emerald earrings I got her. She plays with my hair when she’s done.

  “That’s before I found something to live for.” I grab her ass and pull her into me. “I’d stay here all afternoon with you. That’s adventurous enough for me.”

  She leans forward and kisses me.

  My girl is so amazing. The work she’s done to put the attacks behind her still amazes me. It shows that muscles don’t prove how strong someone is, because she’s stronger than Mr. Olympia.

  It took two months before we slept together, but I was okay. We took baby steps until she was ready. As long as she was mine, I didn’t care. That night when she tried to tell me she loved me first was the best night of my life.

  Now we’re in Vegas, and it’s all I can do not to drag her down to the strip and have Elvis marry us. We’re here for a dual bachelor/bachelorette party for my cousin Luca and his fiancée, Lauren. After being apart from Bella all last night, I’m done with this shit. But I’m supposed to go bungee jumping with the guys while she shops with the girls until we all meet up for dinner.

  My phone vibrates on the nightstand.

  Bella picks it up and hands it to me. “It’s Enzo.”

  I shake my head and put it back on the nightstand, rolling us over so I’m on top of her.

  I’m ready for another round of Bella Scott, but she places her hand on my chest. “I have to get pretty. Have you seen these women?”

  My lips find her neck. “You’re the most beautiful of them all. They’re all competing for second place, believe me.”

  Her legs wrap around my waist. “You’re too sweet and just trying to get me to have a quickie when we both know Enzo’s calling because they’re waiting for you downstairs.”

  I laugh and roll over because she’s right, but I’m not willing to be the idiot who makes everyone late. “When it’s my turn for a bachelor party, I don’t want all this shit. Let’s just elope somewhere. The honeymoon will be my bachelor party.”

  She shakes her head and disappears into the bathroom. “Oh, how far Carmelo Mancini has fallen, huh?”

  After I put on my shorts and T-shirt, I follow her. Wrapping my arms around her waist, I stare at her in the mirror, and she pulls the mascara wand away from her face.

  “I don’t think I fell,” I say. “I rose to new heights.”

  “Spoken like a guy who wants to get laid.” She leans toward the mirror to continue her makeup routine, and my hands mold to her hips. She’s in perfect position for me to lift up the skirt of her dress and take her right now.

  “I have you, so I can get laid any time I want now.”

  She raises her eyebrows in the mirror as a challenge.

  “I love you,” I say to make up for what I just said.

  She giggles, turning around. Her hand falls to the bulge in my pants. “Let’s see how you feel after sharing a bathroom with me.”

  I’ve asked her to move in with me. She wanted to stand on her own for a while after everything that happened—I think to prove that she could—so even though we’ve been inseparable and wasting money on two places, I waited. She’s finally agreed to move in, so as soon as we return to Manhattan, we’ll be the Mancini/Scott house. Although Bella says it’ll be the Scott/Mancini home. Sometimes arguing isn’t worth it, and other times I just like to get her riled up because our sex is extra incredible on nights like those.

  “I already love every minute of it. Especially those days when you get ready naked.”

  She laughs again and pushes my chest. “Go!”

  I hold up my hands an
d back away, but at the last minute, I grab her and kiss her until she’s panting and I’m assured she’s wet. There. Let her suffer too.

  “Love you,” I say right before stepping out of the hotel room door.

  “Love you,” Annie mimics, walking down the hall toward me.

  “Morning,” I say to her with a smile.

  Once I realized that I was actually jealous of Enzo and Annie’s relationship, it was easy to stop busting his balls about it whenever I could. Now Annie and I get along great.

  “Enzo is not happy. Grab Dom, because you two are the only ones missing.” She tsks while waving her finger.

  “Take care of my girl,” I holler back as we pass one another.

  “She takes care of herself but…” She nods. “Done.”

  “Thanks, sis.”

  “Not yet. Except if your brother had his way, I would’ve been Mrs. Mancini last night.” She laughs as though that would never happen.

  “Damn, we really do think alike. What about a double wedding?” I circle around and so does she, both of us walking backward away from each other but facing one another.

  “You’ve forgotten one tiny detail. I have this.” She holds up her left hand. “Your girl doesn’t.”

  “Minor detail.” I shrug. I just got her to move in with me. Baby steps.

  “Not that minor,” she says and swivels around. “Don’t do stupid shit today!”

  I laugh, not promising anything, and I press the up button on the elevator instead of down. Once I’m on Dom’s floor, I hammer out a text to Enzo that I’m grabbing Dom and will be right down.

  I knock on Dom’s door, but he doesn’t open it. I blow out a breath and call him.

  No answer.

  I knock again.

  Maybe he went down early to play some tables. I turn to leave, but then hear movement behind the door so I stop.

  Dom opens the door, squinting as if the light in the hall hurts his eyes, and oh yeah, he’s nude. Dick swinging in the wind. Naked.

  “Jesus, bro, I don’t wanna see your dick. Although I am happy to know mine’s bigger.”

  Am I telling the truth? Who knows? Dom doesn’t need to know.

  He steps into the bathroom, and I catch the door and walk in.

  He reappears with a towel wrapped around his waist. “Fuck off. What’s going on?”

  “You’re late for bungee jumping. Everyone is waiting. Where’d you disappear to last night anyway? One minute you’re sulking at the bar and the next you text us to say you’re out.”

  He looks like shit. His hair’s as messy as if he’s been… I slide to the side to look farther inside the room. Just as I thought, a foot with red nail polish on the toes is peeking out from under the sheet.

  He runs his hands through his hair and down his face, blowing out a breath.

  The light from the bathroom glints off the shiny silver band on the ring finger of his left hand.

  “What the fuck is that?” I point at it, my eyes wide.

  He holds his hand out in front of him and all the color drains from his face.

  “Holy shit!” I laugh hysterically.

  Dom stares at the ring as if he has no idea how the hell it got there.

  Looks like Dom beat Enzo and me to the altar after all.

  * * *

  I bet after that epilogue you can’t wait for Dom’s book? Who is the mystery woman with red toe nail polish?

  FIND OUT 8.27.19

  CLICK HERE to pre-order your copy for a special discounted rate! (Scroll Forward for Chapter One)

  Chapter One to Wild Steamy Hook-Up

  The sound of thumping in my head continues and I roll over, throwing my hand over my face before it suddenly stops. I groan. Thank God. But then it starts up again and, though it takes me a minute, I realize it’s not actually coming from my head.

  I push up on my elbows. The sound might not be coming from inside my head but the throbbing sure as hell is. I look to my right at the unfamiliar room and it takes me a second to remember that I’m in Vegas for my cousin’s bachelor party.

  I push up off the bed and slowly trudge to the door. When I swing it open, my youngest brother, Carm, is standing in the hallway.

  “Jesus, bro, I don’t wanna see your dick. Although I am happy to know mine’s bigger.”

  I glance down to find that I am indeed naked and make my way into the bathroom, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around my waist.

  “Fuck off. What’s going on?” My voice is rough, and I realize now that the inside of my mouth tastes like ass.

  “You’re late for bungee jumping. Everyone is waiting. Where’d you disappear to last night? One minute you’re sulking at the bar and the next you text us to say you’re out.”

  I stare at him for a moment trying to figure out the answer to his question. He uses the opportunity to slide to the side to look further inside the room.

  I run a hand through my hair and down my face, blowing out a breath to get myself together.

  “What the fuck is that?” Carm points to my finger and I lower my hand, staring down at a silver ring around… shit… my left hand ring finger.

  What the fuck?

  “Holy shit!” Carm laughs hysterically.

  I cough on the bile sling shooting up my throat.

  Carm weaves to the side of me, to look behind me at the bed and the woman who might be my… God, I can’t even say the word. There’s absolutely no way I got married last night, no matter what’s on my hand.

  I take my brother by the shoulders. “You can go.”

  He fights me, his head swiveling over his shoulders to try and catch another glimpse.

  I don’t know why I got married last night, but I do know who I hooked-up with last night and Carm cannot find out unless I want a call from Mama. Everyone knows that out of my two brothers, he’s the last one you’d trust with a secret. He doesn’t mean any harm. He just can’t help himself sometimes.

  “What about bungee jumping?” he asks.

  We’re here in Vegas for my cousin Luca’s bachelor party which was supposed to be a fun weekend away—something I rarely allow myself when there’s money to be made. Instead it’s turning into a colossal fuck-up.

  “Make up an excuse for me. And do not tell anyone about what you saw. Just say you can’t find me, or I’m puking, or I don’t really care. You’re a good liar, do what you do best.”

  His feet halt on the carpet. “Low blow. I don’t lie about stupid shit anymore, just ask Bella.”

  His pitiful tone, the one he’s used his entire life when the truth hurts, says I’ve hit a sore spot. Usually I’d smooth over my comment, but today I’ve got more pressing shit to do than to make sure Carm’s ego stays intact.

  “Go.”

  “But what—” he starts, finally outside my door.

  “Bye.” I click the door in place softly. I’d love to slam it, but the last thing I want is to wake the woman sleeping in my bed. I need a minute to sort this out in my head and try to figure out what it means, what the repercussions are. I don’t need to worry about our lack of a pre-nup because she’s not the kind of woman who’s after me for my money. Quite the opposite. Most of the time I think she resents it.

  I strip off the towel and pull on my boxers before sitting in the chair by the window.

  What the hell have we done?

  I weave my fingers through my hair and blow out a breath, looking over to the bed.

  Her long tan legs from half a summer spent in the Hamptons only brings memories of last year back to me. But last year hurt like a bitch when I had to say goodbye to her so why would I have gotten together with her willingly?

  Grabbing my phone, I pull up her pseudonym name Marge (just in case my brothers ever saw) and see what happened last night. Damn, I initiated the conversation.

  Me: Hope the dance competition is going well.

  Then the memory floods in, coming back to me like one gush of a tidal wave. The innocent text exchanges once I saw her da
nce studio was in town for competition. Each of us mentioning where we were staying. Her asking me out for a drink and my stupid horny ass accepting. Going to her hotel bar, gambling at blackjack, drinking some more. Her studio won the competition and she was excited to celebrate, and I of course took any excuse to be with her.

  I’m an idiot.

  She stirs under the sheets, her dark wavy hair sprawled behind her on the pillow. I examine her while her eyes are still closed and see the matching silver band on her left hand. Then I spot a few crumbled up papers resting on the floor near the edge of the bed. I must’ve taken them out of my jacket or pants last night when we returned.

  Opening them up, the reality of the situation comes crashing down on me like a crumbling building.

  It’s a marriage license and the two names listed on there have me squeezing the bridge of my nose.

  Dominic Anthony Mancini and

  Valentina Daniella Sommerland.

  Now, she’s Valentina Daniella Mancini though I don’t hold my breath—she’d probably expect me to take her last name. Why the hell is my mind heading in a direction this situation is never gonna go?

  Just as I’m wondering whether we’ll qualify for an annulment, her eyes pop open.

  She smiles at me, her naked body sliding across the sheets. She’s always been slow to wake up and I only know that from the rare occasion she’d let me sleep in bed with her.

  “Hey,” I say.

  “Hi.” She wiggles up to rest her back against the headboard, making sure to keep the sheet over her.

  “No need to be shy. I am your husband after all.” I raise my hand in the air, the stream of light through the curtains making the silver band shine.

  Her breath leaves her in one rush and her mouth hangs open. She snaps her head down to look at her perfectly manicured hand with red polish that matches her toes and starts plucking at her wedding band like it’s a piece of foil. But it’s not foil, it’s the real deal.