Forbidden Desires

by Jenna Hartley

  “The Matrix,” I say.

  “Braveheart,” Dom says.

  We high-five each other.

  “Those aren’t romance movies,” Carm says.

  Dom stares blankly at Carm. “Anyway… one of us needs to find her a guy she can’t refuse. Then hopefully sparks will fly, and a whirlwind romance begins. Truthfully, all we really need is Blanca to bring the guy home to dinner. Mom’s spirits will be lifted, and we won’t be compared to our cousins, the wonderful Bianco brothers, anymore.”

  “I talked to Luca the other day,” Carm says.

  Kate slides our dishes onto the table. We each say our thanks while Carm waits for one of us to ask him about his conversation with our cousin Luca.

  “Good for you.” Dom puts his hands over our dishes before we have a chance to eat. “Let’s see who has to be the one to find someone for her first.” He rests his hand on his open palm.

  “I’m not doing rock, paper, scissors,” I say.

  Dom and Carm look at one another, snickering.

  “Because you know you’ll lose.” The grin on Carm’s face makes me want to smack him.

  “I don’t lose every fucking time.” I tear apart my pizza, not giving one shit what Dom says.

  “Then why won’t you do it?” Dom asks.

  “Because this whole thing is childish. Finding our sister a date? I’m trying to make partner at work. I don’t have time for this.”

  “I’m responsible for millions of people’s money.”

  “Slight exaggeration.” I take a bite of my pizza. God, that’s good.

  “What about me? This for-sale-by-owner woman is stressing me out. I have to stay one step ahead of her at all times.”

  “See? We’re all busy, so it’s only fair. We rock, paper, scissors and loser finds the date.” Dom puts his fist on his palm again.

  I shake my head.

  “Stop being a baby,” he goads.

  “I’m not being a baby. If you’re so worried about it, you find her the date.” I have another bite of pizza, downing it with my water.

  Kate breezes by. “I’ll grab your bill, Dom?”

  “Perfect. Thanks.” Dom waves and sets his attention back on us.

  “Let’s just get this over with.” Carm mimics Dom.

  “Don’t you think we’re too old for these games?” I ask.

  “No,” they answer at the same time.

  “And you’re not going to let this go?” I ask, wiping my hands on my napkin, preparing to play their stupid game.

  “Unless you want to bring a girl to Sunday dinner, this is our only way to get Ma off our back for a while.” Dom smiles and winks.

  I position my fist on my palm. “Fine. Two out of three.”

  “Nope.” Dom’s forearm muscles tense.

  “It’s one round unless there’re two losers.” Carm rehashes the rules we made when we were young and stupid.

  “One.” Dom pounds his fist. “Two.” He pounds it again. “Three.”

  Dom shoots rock.

  Carm shoots scissors.

  I shoot scissors.

  Dom leans back, grabs his money clip out of his pocket. “It’s between you two losers now.”

  He leans over, handing Kate money before she can give him the bill. That’s what happens when you come to the same restaurant and order the same thing every Thursday.

  Carm faces me. His salad is still untouched.

  “One,” I say, my voice void of any enthusiasm. “Two.” I pound my fist. “Three.”

  I shoot scissors.

  Carm shoots rock.

  What the fuck? It’s a conspiracy. I know I win at this game sometimes.

  “Woo hoo!” Carm stands, high-fiving Dom as he slides out of his chair. “Loser.” He points at me with both of his forefingers and swivels his hips into some lame-ass dance.

  Dom’s big hand clasps my shoulder. “Good luck. Better you than me. All I know are traders and they’re selfish pricks.”

  He leaves the restaurant without so much as a goodbye, and Carm slides back into his seat.

  “Man, you really suck at this game.”

  I ignore him, continuing to eat my pizza.

  “Oh, don’t sulk.” He chuckles.

  I’m not sulking though. I’m running through the list of guys I know, but none of them are good enough for my baby sister.

  We eat our lunch while Carm regales me with a detailed account of his time with Trina and Kitty from the gym. Carm’s lucky I haven’t thrown up from his very detailed description. I’ve told him to stop talking about five times now.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket as I finish my last slice. I slide it out of my pocket and see the time.

  “Shit. I gotta go.” I wipe my mouth. “See you later.”

  “Don’t work so hard,” he jokes because the three of us could start our own support group for workaholics.

  I’m in the cab, headed back to the office when a text message comes through.

  * * *

  Carm: Jackass. You left me with the bill.

  * * *

  I laugh, knowing full well what I did.

  * * *

  Me: Sorry. I’ll get you back.

  * * *

  Never. He and Dom have no problem with their rock, paper, scissors shit. If I have to go search out guys for our sister, Carm’s buying my lunch. Where do I find an available guy deserving of my baby sister? There’s only one woman I can think to ask.

  Chapter 15

  Annie

  * * *

  Enzo and I sit on the one side of the double-sided mirror, looking into the room with the test group. We’re alone at the moment because Billy is on some emergency campaign problem with Mr. Zilroy and Jake.

  In the room are parents with their babies, most playing with toys. Others rock their newborns. A changing table has been set up to see which products they choose when caring for their baby.

  My notes are minimal and I’m already doubting this process will help us come up with a campaign, but I’m the newbie here, so I keep my mouth shut.

  “You’re single, right?”

  Enzo’s question throws me. I turn toward him. His eyes are still on the parents and their kids. “Um…”

  “Yeah, I know it’s probably against the code of conduct that I ask, but are you?”

  I tap my pen on the table. “I am. I thought we went over this the other day?”

  Is he going to ask me out? Does he want to know because this slow-burning sizzle between us hasn’t gone away yet? What will I say? As much as I want to explore this thing between us, I won’t put this junior executive position at risk.

  “Where do you find guys?” he asks.

  I glance at him. Once again, he’s not looking at me. Maybe he’s embarrassed? “The usual places. Bars, Tinder… it all depends on the mood I’m in.”

  “Mood?” His gaze finally meets mine.

  I purposely look away because I’m not sure I can keep a straight face. “Whether I want to just hit it and quit it or if I want to snuggle afterward, you know?”

  He turns his chair to face me now, his legs splaying open. He seems relaxed. His suit jacket has been discarded on the couch. His shirt sleeves are rolled up, revealing corded muscles in his forearms. He taps his pen on the table, the only hint that there’s any tension brewing inside him.

  “Hit it and quit it?” He raises an eyebrow.

  “Don’t act like you don’t do Tinder when you’re horny.” I bite my lip to keep from laughing.

  “I’ve never used Tinder.” From the steady rhythm of his words, I’d say he’s telling the truth.

  “You’re missing out.” I sip from my water bottle before I lose it.

  “Shut up. You’re on Tinder?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He grabs his phone from the table.

  A baby cries in the room, and I turn my attention to the mirror to make sure everything is okay. A mom changes her baby on the changing table and he obviously hates the experience, k
icking his feet and swatting his hands at her. Her face is flushed with embarrassment as she peers around to make sure her baby isn’t bothering anyone else. I jot a few notes about moms worrying about what others think. Babies who don’t like their diapers being changed.

  My phone dings next to me. I pick it up absentmindedly, my mind solely on whether we can do something with what I just witnessed. The Tinder app I let Mae convince me to put on my phone has a notification.

  I side-eye Enzo, knowing he has something to do with this.

  I click on the app. There’s Enzo’s picture with a big blue box that says, “Super Liked.” I shake my head, placing my phone face down on the table.

  “That’s disheartening,” he says.

  I swivel my chair toward him, and my legs knock his. “I thought you didn’t use Tinder.”

  “I don’t, but I’ll admit to downloading the app. You never know.” He shrugs those strong shoulders of his.

  “Hmm… I don’t believe you.”

  He tosses his phone in front of me on the table. “Have at my history.”

  I push it aside. “No thanks.”

  “Are you going to like me back?”

  “Why do you care?” I circle my chair to face forward.

  “It’s insulting to have a super like out there and not get one in return. I don’t pay, so I only get one of those a day.”

  I chuckle. “For someone who doesn’t do Tinder, you sure know a lot about it.”

  “My brother Carm loves it. Told me it would change my life.”

  “Sounds like a great guy.”

  “I wouldn’t suggest you swipe right for him. No.”

  I zero in on the study group because this whole getting-to-know-each-other thing feels weird and awkward, but I’ll admit that it’s enlightening. The man I thought was a grade-A asshole is turning into a grade-A piece of goodness. “What’s with all the questions anyway?”

  His pen seesaws on the table. Click. Click. Click. Click.

  “Babies are boring,” I change the subject since he doesn’t seem to want to answer.

  “I lost a bet to my brothers.”

  This should be good.

  “How many brothers do you have?” I glance at him.

  “Two. One older, one younger. And a baby sister.” He focuses on the group.

  “Was the bet about Tinder? Or where to pick up guys?”

  He laughs. “No. My three cousins just found love and my mom’s depressed because her three boys are all still bachelors.”

  I nod in understanding. “Getting some pressure from your mom about settling down?” I jot down another note about two moms interacting and how one walked away rolling her eyes after the other tried to instruct her how to position the bottle.

  “All my life. I’m Italian.”

  “Really? I never would have known,” I deadpan.

  “Now that my cousins are in love and two have already fallen on bended knee, my mom seems like she’s in a depression or something. Especially since none of us even have a girlfriend.”

  I flash him a smile. “I don’t know what that’s like. My dad doesn’t say much about me being single.”

  Correction: My dad doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t ask about my love life, and I don’t think he cares if I end up a spinster with fifty cats or if I marry next year. He’s always been about Beth and I being happy.

  “You’re lucky.”

  We sit in silence, both of us jotting down notes. Truthfully, I don’t see how we’re getting anything from this. Just when I think the conversation is over, he starts it up again.

  “My brothers came up with a plan.”

  “I can only imagine.”

  “It’s a good plan. Sort of. It’s more my brothers’ plan, but I see the possibility of success.”

  “You’re being vague.”

  He laughs, his pen playing a game of teeter-totter again. “I have to find a guy for my sister.” The pen stops moving.

  A laugh bursts from my mouth so loudly, I fear the other side will hear me.

  “Why is that funny?” He looks offended.

  I stand up to grab another water bottle from the mini fridge. “Most brothers try to keep guys away from their sister. You know, the whole ‘no one is good enough’ cliché?”

  He remains silent.

  “Why are you the one in charge of this? There’re three of you.”

  His shoulders sag a bit.

  Okay, I’ve always found Enzo attractive. A successful man gets a checkmark right off the top, and to a certain extent, as bad as it is to say, his assholish demeanor ramped up his sexiness. Only because I’d wonder why he was an asshole. Did some girl hurt him so badly it ruined him for the rest of us?

  But these weeks that I’ve been able to see a more vulnerable side to his personality have made me even more attracted to him. He has a depth I didn’t expect.

  “I lost.”

  “You lost? What does that mean?” I slide back into my chair, unscrewing the cap on the bottle. The cold fluid is a relief from where my mind keeps wandering.

  “We hashed it out and I got… picked to find the guy.”

  “You’re giving me bits and pieces and I’m still not sure what you’re saying.”

  He throws his hands up, swivels his chair, and heads to the mini fridge. “We play rock, paper, scissors and they say I always lose. I don’t. But I did this time.”

  “You guys play rock, paper, scissors?”

  “It’s the easiest way for us to come to a decision when none of us wants to do something.”

  I tap my pen against my lips and his eyes focus on the motion, so I put the pen on the table. “I’m just curious, you guys do rock, paper, scissors to decide which of you will find a date for your sister that’ll hopefully turn into something serious, but you don’t do the same to choose which of you should find a woman to maybe marry?”

  He tilts his head as if this is the first time he’s thought of it. Then he shakes his head. “Blanca wants to get married.”

  Blanca? What a beautiful name. I get Annie and she gets Blanca. Life is so unfair.

  “Are you sure?”

  He sits back down, opens up his bottle, and downs half the contents. “She’s a girl. Don’t all girls dream of their wedding day?”

  I stare blankly at him. He’s joking. Any minute he’s going to laugh.

  He doesn’t laugh.

  “No. They don’t.”

  “Really?” A crease forms between his eyebrows.

  “Do you think every woman you sleep with is waiting for a ring the next morning?”

  He shrugs, sipping more water.

  “You do!” I point. “So if we slept together, you’d be thinking I want to be your wife?”

  He tilts his head and locks eyes with me. “Why are you putting yourself in this scenario?”

  I look away and my eyes fall to the opening of his legs. Damn it. I tear my eyes away, but the smirk on his face says he saw me.

  “It’s hypothetical. Forget it. You’re delusional, and it sounds like your brothers are too. I feel sorry for your sister.”

  He coughs and chokes on his water.

  Good.

  “We’ve been great brothers,” he argues.

  “Great. Sure. You’re going to try to marry her off to the first guy you think she’d like instead of being adults and having a conversation with your mom. Why are you so hell-bent on being a bachelor for life anyway?”

  “We’ve been over this.”

  “Have we? You said it was so you could achieve your goals. Newsflash, you’re about to become partner, you probably live in a high-rise penthouse, and I’m sure you have plenty of money in your bank account, so I’m not sure your original reason holds any weight.” I sound angry for some reason. What do I care? It’s none of my business how he lives his life.

  Before he has a chance to respond, I place my hand in the air. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business. I think I was getting protective of your sister, who I don�
��t even know. So forget it. Don’t answer that question. I’m going to the restroom.”

  I leave before he has a chance to say anything. Once I’m securely in the bathroom, I stare at myself in the mirror. What is wrong with me? I’m such an idiot.

  I pull out my phone and pull up my group chat with Beth and Mae.

  * * *

  Me: I need help.

  Beth: Come over tonight and we’ll make cookies.

  Mae: Yay! Cookie night. I’ll bring the milk, mama.

  Me: Thanks girls.

  * * *

  Just like that. No questions asked and my sister and bestie are ready to guide me out of the jungle of emotions I find myself lost in. They might have to send a chopper because I’m in deep.

  Chapter 16

  Enzo

  * * *

  Annie walks back into the room, her cheeks still flushed. When she was going off on me, all I thought about was kissing her. I need to get her out of my system because she’s right. Those reasons were legit way back when. But they don’t feel so valid anymore. I get the feeling that Annie is becoming a game-changer, and I don’t like it.

  I gave her a Super Like on Tinder. The one and only time I’ve ever used the app. The only reason I even know what a Super Like is, is because of my pervy brother Carm.

  “This was a complete waste of time,” she says and takes her seat.

  “I know, my notes are minimal.”

  I guess we’re ignoring her outburst. Works for me.

  “We need hands-on experience. Should I ask my sister? We could watch her with Cecilia all day or something.”

  That sounds like as much fun as spending the day at Chuck E. Cheese.

  “Why don’t we make up a list of questions? We can ask parents about their nighttime routines. Make up a questionnaire and have them answer.” Her face contorts, and it’s clear she thinks that’s the worst idea ever. “Or not.”

  “Sorry. I don’t even know how it was with my family. Did my parents have a routine? I have no idea.”