It's a Fugly Life

by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  “Hmmm…this is unfortunate.” Max grinned as if he’d won some giant victory. “I guess you’ll have to come back to my hotel.”

  “Nice try.”

  “Only trying to help,” he said with smug amusement.

  “If you want to help, how about staying away?” The reporters wanted him or Patricio, not me. “All of my clothes are inside, and I have to open the shop in forty minutes.”

  Max’s smile melted away.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Something doesn’t feel right.”

  “No kidding. I have a mob of reporters stalking my home.” Well, screw them! I had nothing to be ashamed of and that included my scars, my love life, or my past.

  I pulled the handle of the car door, and Max tugged me back by the shoulder. “Wait. Let me deal with them. They’ll probably go away if I give them a statement.” He slid out of his side of the car.

  Mr. Fearless. Seriously, aside from his little “issue,” nothing scared the man. It was very hot.

  I watched Max’s lean, tall frame make confident strides towards the pack of wolves, who immediately spotted him and swarmed. I could only see the top of his head from my vantage point, but it struck me as odd that he stood there for all of five seconds before returning to the car with the reporters on his heels.

  He opened the door and slid inside. “Drive,” he ordered Callahan, who obeyed without question.

  “What’s going on?” My racing heart told me I was not going to like it.

  Max’s dark brows shrugged, and he let out a breath.

  “What!” I demanded.

  With a calmness that terrified me, he looked out the window. “I suggest you come back to the hotel with me.” There wasn’t an ounce of flirt, fun, or cockiness in his voice this time.

  “Why? What happened?” I growled.

  He slid his cell from his shorts pocket, tapped a few times on the screen, and handed it to me.

  I took the phone in my hands and gazed at the image of Patricio naked, having sex with another woman.

  “What?” I covered my mouth. “This can’t be real.”

  “Let’s get you somewhere private, and we’ll figure it out together.” Max reached out and placed his hand on my thigh. “I’m sorry, Lily. This isn’t right.”

  As I would expect, Max had the most incredible bungalow at the most expensive hotel in town, the Four Seasons. Private pool and patio with outdoor fireplace, gorgeous furnishings, full living room and dining room. Quiet. Secluded. Perfect. So Max.

  Not that I really cared at the moment because I literally felt sick to my stomach.

  Max tossed his room key on the marble coffee table in the living room and gestured for me to sit on the sofa. My wobbly knees gave out as I lowered my trembling body onto the gold-embroidered seat cushion.

  “Would you care for a scotch?” he said, heading straight for the bar in the corner.

  Too frazzled to realize—or give a shit—that it was still breakfast time, I nodded and lay across the couch, crossing my arms over my face. “Fuuuck,” I groaned. Whyyy? I’d been so ready to go all in with Patricio, knowing that we weren’t banana-ape-shit-lust-crazy over each other, but that we had something solid. Friendship. And, yes, attraction. Patricio was a very handsome man—six two, an athletic body, olive skin, short brown hair, and bright green eyes. He was one hundred percent Italian in terms of his slightly longer nose, but it fit his cute face. He was also passionate and spontaneous. He loved his “big fat Italian family,” whom he claimed couldn’t wait to meet me.

  Max sat down on the couch, using his firm ass to scoot my legs over. “Here. This will make you feel better.”

  I sat up and pushed my back against the armrest, placing my legs over Max’s lap. Max held out a crystal tumbler full of golden brown liquid.

  “Thanks.” I took the glass and stared at the thing for a moment. “Why do you think he fucked her, Max?” As if being cheated on wasn’t bad enough, Patricio had done it with Adeline Taylor—a very hot Hollywood actress who used to date Max. They’d ended things when Max fell in love with me. Needless to say, I had no affection for the woman. The few times our paths had crossed, she’d treated me like a mangy dog.

  Max looked down at his own drink and pondered. “You know my answer, Lily. Why ask?”

  “I want to hear you say it.”

  “All right, then. He fucked that woman because he’s the true definition of a man-whore. It’s exactly as I told you the night you met him: he’ll fuck anything that moves.”

  I lifted my glass to my lips and nearly gagged from the smell. Ick. I don’t want this. “Got anything else?” I needed something to numb the ache in my heart, but I’d forgotten how much I disliked scotch, aka cinnamon-infused gasoline.

  Max’s plump lips pulled to the side. “On second thought, you really should eat. Why don’t I order you breakfast instead? You said you haven’t eaten.”

  “Thanks, but I’m not hungry. I’ll take an orange juice if you have any.” If I ate anything now, I’d likely toss it up. My stomach was churning and knotting. How could Patricio do this to me?

  Max stared for a moment with those sultry hazel eyes, his square jaw ticking. “But you’ll need your strength for when I fuck you.” He grinned and those two stubble-covered dimples puckered.

  My mouth dropped open. Did he really think that my relationship catastrophe had magically cleared the way for him and me to fuck? Clearly, he had not listened to a word I’d said about why we were doomed.

  Maybe he just wants to fuck. After all, he is a man. Dick first, feelings second. Or in Patricio’s case: feelings never.

  Max slid my feet from his lap and went to get a small bottle of OJ from the minibar fridge. Meanwhile, I wished that mental Drano existed so I could wash away the image of Patricio lying naked between Adeline Taylor’s legs, her red fingernails digging into his ass. They’d been fucking all right. No doubt about it. The other photos showed him naked, paddleboarding over turquoise water, with her sitting in front of him. I guessed they were in the US Virgin Islands because that was where he’d been “working” part of this past week.

  Max returned with my drink, and I chugged it down.

  He took the empty bottle from my hand and placed it on the coffee table before lifting my legs and sitting. He patted my shin. “Are you sure you won’t let me order you some room service? I seem to remember you being a fan of pancakes.”

  “I’m really not hungry.” I only wanted to cry. Just not in front of him. “God, I’m such an idiot,” I said under my breath.

  “No, Lily. It’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. You. Are. Perfect. You simply aren’t perfect for him. No one is.”

  “Thanks,” I said unappreciatively.

  “His being a cheating asshole truly has nothing to do with you. I wouldn’t lie. Not to you.”

  I shook my head, feeling the orange juice mix with my sour angry stomach. “But you would keep the truth from me.”

  Max took a moment, mulling something over. “Patricio’s family and mine were once close. They vacationed on the French Riviera. We vacationed on the French Riviera. But then one year, when my sister, Mabel, turned sixteen, it all changed.”

  Uh-oh. I didn’t like the sound of this.

  He continued, “Let’s just say that Patricio’s acting career started early, and he honed his skills deceiving young women.”

  “He Mr. Wickhamed your sister?”

  Max lifted a questioning brow.

  “He played her,” I clarified.

  Max nodded. “She never told me the whole story, but it doesn’t take much to imagine. She was devastated for months after he tossed her aside. Then she found out he’d slept with three of her friends, too.”

  What an asshole. By my calculations, Patricio was three years older than Mabel, Max’s sister.

  I inhaled through my nostrils, trying to digest it. So this was it—the reason Max hated Patricio. Still, it didn’t explain why Patricio hated Max back.
r />   “What did you do to him?” I asked.

  Max took a long time to answer while he stared at something that stretched beyond present time. “I almost killed him.”

  I pulled back my head. I had not expected that.

  Max nodded. “I found Patricio and beat him within an inch of his life. If it weren’t for my family’s money and their ability to settle things quietly, I probably would’ve gone to the French equivalent of juvie.”

  I almost had no words. It was one thing to play the protective brother, but it was another to almost kill someone.

  “Keep in mind,” he said, “I was only fifteen at the time and my mother had systematically stripped all joy from my life. My sister was the only thing I cared about.”

  My stomach churned again. It was so very strange to think of this beautiful, strong, confident man growing up in such a mentally fucked-up home. To his credit, he’d taken that pain and suffering and turned himself into something extraordinary.

  “I’m so sorry, Max.”

  He laughed. “You had your heart broken by that piece of shit and you’re telling me you’re sorry?”

  I shrugged. “I’ll be okay. I’ve survived worse.” I looked at him so he’d know what I meant.

  “I’m sorry, Lily. I shouldn’t have waited so long.”

  He referred to the six months. “Then why did you?”

  He scratched his scruffy chin. “I realized that I’d built Cole Cosmetics out of sheer hatred for my mother. Which made me angry all over again. I thought I was free of her and was my own man, when really my entire world still revolved around that monster. Once I saw that, I needed time.”

  “To do what? More therapy?” I felt a spark of jealousy, picturing what that therapy might involve. Or more accurately stated, who it might involve. Had he found some other woman to spend his nights with to continue what he’d started with me? Had he fucked her, too?

  He paused for a long moment. “It’s a very long story—and now is not the right time to share it.” He gave my knee a pat and then stood. “I’m going to order food and ask them to bring you clothes from their shop.”

  He walked over to the phone on the end table and dialed. Meanwhile, I stared at his back and broad shoulders. I couldn’t help feel the need to touch him. And rub my naked body all over him. With his penis inside me. All right, sex. I wanted comfort sex.

  “I’m going to take a shower.” A cold one. I got off the couch and scurried to the bathroom. I closed the door and pressed my back to it, wincing. Honestly, I needed to get out of here, maybe go to my brother’s apartment. My parents’ house was not an option because my mother and father were serial worriers. They freaked out whenever I wasn’t smiling. “What’s wrong? Something’s wrong. What happened?” My mother’s face would turn pale and my father’s would go red. I suspected their overprotective, worrying nature stemmed from feeling guilty that they’d brought me into the world with an extremely ugly face, making life a bit hard. As for my brother, he was born with a rare spinal deformation and was wheelchair bound, which still evoked heavy doses of daily worrying from my parents despite his very good health, intelligence, and capable body. He was Mr. Independence.

  I slipped my cell from my pocket and dialed my brother to leave a message. He’d be at work right now, teaching math over at the elementary school. “Hey, John. It’s me. Can you leave your house key for me at your front office? I need a place to hide today—a long and wonderful story I’ll share with you later. Love you, bye.” I hung up, feeling kind of green.

  Okay. The orange juice had not been such a great idea. I scrambled for the toilet and threw up.

  “Lily?” Max’s voice projected from the now open doorway.

  “Go away!” I swiped my hand through the air to shoo him out.

  “This is the third time I’ve seen you get sick since I got here.”

  I groaned with my head over the toilet. “Go…I’m fine.”

  Max grumbled and left the bathroom. I pried myself from the floor, shut the door again, and started the shower, taking time to use the entire miniature bottle of complimentary mouthwash to remove the foul taste.

  After rinsing the sweat from my morning run, my mind settled back to Patricio. I needed to call him. I needed to tell him what a piece of lying garbage he was. He had to know by now that I’d seen the photos.

  I finished the shower, wrapped myself in a towel, and peeked out the door. “Do you have a robe I could borrow?”

  Max stood next to the dining table, texting away with a huge frown on his face—lips in a hard line, brows pushed together.

  “Max?”

  He looked up and his eyes set on me and my towel-encased body. A lust-crazed yearning burned in his eyes.

  “Max? Robe.”

  “My apologies. Seeing you all wet like that brings back very nice memories.”

  “I just threw up and my almost fiancé cheated on me. Maybe you can put a hold on the sexual commentary.”

  Max stared for a moment. “Doubtful. Being near you makes me think about very sexual things.”

  I felt the same thing, too, which only made me more confused. How could I feel heartbroken over Patricio and lust after Max at the same time?

  Max walked into the bedroom and brought out a fluffy white robe for me. “Here you go.”

  “Thanks.” I grabbed it, closed the door, and then slid it on. I wrapped my long blonde hair in my towel and then went back out to await some clothing and a call or text back from my brother.

  “So,” Max said, watching me walk back over to the couch, “I had the hotel recommend a doctor nearby.”

  “I have a doctor.” She’d been my physician since I was ten, and she’d already seen me a few times over the past months. I was stressed out and overworking myself. Plain and simple.

  “Then you should make an appointment.”

  “I don’t need to see her. I know exactly what’s wrong with me.” An unfaithful boyfriend and an ex I still burned for but couldn’t, shouldn’t, wouldn’t be with.

  Max stared for a moment and then, as if a switch flipped, he turned ice cold—rigid posture, emotional void in his stunning hazel eyes.

  “What?”

  He blinked. “Nothing.”

  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Like…” His eyes shifted from side to side. “What?”

  “Like a unicorn landed on my head.”

  “I have no clue what you mean.”

  He’s lying. I could see it on his face. I physically felt him withdraw from the room despite him still standing in front of me.

  Before I could push him further, my phone beeped and the doorbell buzzed.

  “Excuse me.” Max turned away to answer, and I grabbed my cell from my pocket. It was a text from my brother.

  John: The fucking asshole! I’ll kill him.

  Me: Be my guest. Did you leave the key?

  John: I’m not letting anyone run you out of your home. I’ll meet you at your place in ten.

  What? No. There were reporter-parasites waiting.

  Me: Just leave me a key, and we’ll catch up later.

  I waited for a reply, but it didn’t come.

  Me: ????

  Nothing.

  “Dammit,” I whispered.

  Max appeared with two pairs of shorts—pink and black—and a few small T-shirts draped over his arm. “Sorry. They didn’t have large.”

  I frowned with confusion. I was a size six. Today, I could possibly squeeze into a four. No, I wasn’t obsessed with my weight, but I had a naturally thin frame and obsessed over running. Like I said, having the face of the elephant girl left me with few advantages to exploit: intelligence, personality, body, and hair.

  “Those will do fine.” I snagged the black tee and pink shorts and headed into the bathroom. I put on the clothes and emerged to find Max’s driver standing in his black suit, hands clasped together.

  “Uhh…where’d Max go?” I asked.

  With the steely
tone of a well-trained soldier, Callahan gave nothing away. “Mr. Cole had urgent business to attend to. He asked me to stay with you.”

  “Max left. And asked you to babysit me.” What in the world?

  Awkwardness tinged his brown eyes. Callahan was a plain man with thinning brown hair, a very thick build, and intimidating presence. Ex-military for sure. “No, ma’am. He simply requested I assist.”

  “Assist?” I folded my arms across my chest.

  “Yes, ma’am.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “If you should…” Bob, bob. “Need anything. Vitamins, for example.”

  Had Max lost his mind? “No. I don’t need vitamins. But you can give me ride home.”

  Callahan’s brown eyes flared open.

  “What?” Everyone was behaving so strangely.

  “I think Mr. Cole might prefer you stay here and await his return.”

  Oh. Well, in that case… “You can bring me home, or you can tell Mr. Cole I left on my own. Either way, I am leaving.”

  “Let me see you home, then.” Callahan turned and opened the door.

  “Thank you.” Where the hell had Max gone in such a hurry? I would ask Callahan, but I already knew the man was paid for his discretion as much as for his speedy driving. And I wasn’t about to let John deal with that mess in front of my apartment on his own. With my luck, one of the reporters would say something inflammatory and John would run them over with his wheelchair. After disemboweling them. No. John didn’t fuck around. He was a hothead and couldn’t care less if his legs didn’t work because his arms worked just fine.

  I grabbed my stuff and followed Max’s chauffeur out the door, grabbing my cell to send Max a text. I punched in some very choice words but stopped. It felt reactionary and juvenile. The reason I really felt angry was because I needed him to be there for me, and he’d left. We’d been enemies—oh God, how I’d once hated him—we’d been boss and employee, and then we’d been lovers. But we’d never been friends. And that, somehow, felt more important to me than anything else right now.

  Me: Goodbye, Max.

  Sitting in the back of Max’s limo, I pulled up to my apartment for round two with the paparazzi, expecting them to have my brother surrounded.