Bad Enemy (Bad Girls Club Book 4)

by Carmen Falcone

  “Yes.”

  “You have to try Theo’s restaurant. It’s the best in town,” Violet said.

  Theo waved her off, but then she pulled him to her and kissed his lips. Troy watched Lara, and when she finally glanced at him, he detected discomfort in her eyes. Something shifted inside him, this warm need to reach out to her and give her a hug.

  A hug? He scolded himself internally. The lack of sex was certainly affecting his common sense—and he should take care of the problem soon, otherwise he’d fall into an emotional trap he’d skillfully dodged until now.

  He couldn’t step out on his wife, though. Not that he wanted to sleep with another woman anyway. So it had to be her. Lara Nunes.

  A frisson ran through him, awakening all his parts. Damn her.

  “I’ve heard of your family. It’s nice you’re working with your father. Have you moved to Tulip permanently?” Cole asked.

  Troy casually engaged in conversation even if the only thing is his mind was Lara. Still, everyone had been nice to him, and he enjoyed talking to them. Felt good talking to people who didn’t want anything from him.

  That was, until a jazzy version of a pop song began playing. In the other room in the spacious restaurant, a live band played, and several people danced to the music. One of the women challenged her husband, who begrudgingly agreed to dance, and soon, all couples stood and walked to the dance floor.

  “I guess we can’t stay behind,” Lara said, and he stood, stretching out his hand to her.

  His heart throbbed with anticipation. She rose to her feet, and accepted his hand in hers. When he walked with her by his side, his fingers intertwined in hers, his chest swelled with pride. He’d show her how well they fit together, how good they could be intimately. Hopefully she’d see it too, and agree to having a fling with her husband.

  After she’d discovered he slept with Michelle, he doubted she’d want anything serious with him anyway. So they were both safe to lust over each other.

  The dim lighting suited the ambience. The raspy voice from the female lead singer was perfect for the sultry ballad, bringing couples to sway together, erasing space. He pulled her to him, and she anchored her hands on his shoulders, her head to the side.

  He drew in her scent, notes of vanilla and wildflowers, along with a spice he didn’t recognize. He rested his left hand on the small of her back, and she sighed, warm and soft and so freaking tempting. A flurry of tingles started on his scalp down all the way to his core, then farther down, activating the part of him that couldn’t deny how much he wanted her.

  She must have felt it, because he felt her intake of breath. But she didn’t pull away, instead she gave his hand a light squeeze, a subtle message that aroused him one notch further.

  “Lara…” Her name fled his mouth with the urgency of a fugitive on the run. “I’m so fucking turned on right now I can barely move. Let alone dance,” he whispered in her ear.

  She moved her head, inching it closer, and he dipped his own until his lips touched hers.

  He kissed her, a hungry, erotic, greedy kiss. She stroked his tongue with hers, teasing him, and he lowered his hand a bit more, cupping her ass against his hard-on. He could feel the warmth from her thighs sifting through her clothes. She was wet—more than that, she was soaking wet. If he touched her now, he’d know for sure.

  Damn it, he’d come in his pants if they continued like this. She ran her fingers through his hair, unlocking a world of sensations. Need pumped through his veins, thickening his blood. Wanting her was like drowning in the ocean and desperately waving for a passing rescue boat. He needed her right now or he’d stop breathing. He needed her, or he’d die.

  He nipped her lower lip, then released it with a pop. When he withdrew from her, his body continued in the state of unrest and sexual chaos. She looked at him, gleams of concern in her eyes. Then, she thinned her lips as if she was thinking about what to say. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  She stepped back. “I’m not ready… for this,” she said, gesturing between the two of them.

  “Why not? I thought you wanted me.”

  She perched her hands at her waist. “I just—”

  The band finished a song, and the sound of claps traveled around them.

  He dipped his head, speaking close to her earlobe. “Tell me, Lara. What is keeping you from sleeping with me? I can email you my last physical, I’m safe. And we can always—”

  “It’s not that. I mean, I’m safe too, and I’m on the pill.” She stood on her tiptoes, leaning into him. “I don’t want to make things complicated.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Then, she gestured to the other direction. “Let’s go back to the table.”

  “Sure,” he said, but doubted she heard him.

  He followed her as she made the way amongst the growing crowd, and disappointment weighted heavily on his shoulders. He shouldn’t let it faze him. She’d turned him down, and he’d been right about her. She was strong. She made the right choice—and he’d been weak.

  “The new arborization plan looks solid,” Julie, the manager of a coveted strip mall in an exclusive part of town said. “I wish I had your eye for these things.”

  Lara looked at the 3D project on the screen in the small but clean and functional conference room in her office. “I’ve always enjoyed playing with dirt. At least now I’m getting paid for it.”

  Julie chuckled. “Right. Also, I hear congratulations are in order. I eavesdropped when a couple of your friends were shopping the other day, talking about your wedding.”

  Lara slapped on a smile, like a newlywed dripping with marital bliss should. “Thanks.”

  “I’ve been in such man drought that I’d settle for just a date, really.”

  Lara squared her shoulders. Why wouldn’t Julie find a date easily? With her dirty blonde hair falling in layers down her shoulder and a heart shaped face and pretty green eyes, she could turn heads. Maybe she just didn’t go out much. Lara always had a hard time scheduling meetings with her—Julie worked all kinds of hours. Managing a luxury strip mall wasn’t easy, she could bet. “Have you tried online dating?”

  “Nah, I’m more of an in-person dating. But a lot of my friends are married and don’t go out to bars as much. When they do and they invite me, their husbands usually come and I feel like the odd duck.”

  “What? No girl’s night out for you?” Lara drummed her fingers on her desk. Her heart squeezed a bit. She could relate to Julie. Until now, she’d been the single one, besides her failed engagement. In the past couple of years, her best friends and members of the Bad Girls Club had gotten married or seriously committed. “You know, if you want, we can invite you next time we do something.”

  Julie’s eyes glinted. “Really? That would be fun.”

  Lara had once brought up the idea of inviting more women into their group. They usually met on Fridays, either at Splurge or at one of their houses for drinks, dinner and dick talk—and lately, a lot of diaper talk too.

  Having more single gals would re-invigorate their meetings and a woman on the hunt would be particularly helpful when her bogus marriage to Troy ended and she needed a companion to go out and meet new guys. “Yeah, we’ll make it happen.”

  Julie winked at her. “Can’t wait.”

  Lara nodded. The idea of swimming in the dating pool again didn’t excite her, but she’d have to move on after her marriage came to an end. She’d miss Troy, or at least gawking at him and salivating when he wasn’t looking. More than she should.

  “What do you mean, you’re married?” Lara’s mom asked on the other side of the line. “First Miguel practically forces me to visit Celia, then he doesn’t call me back, and now this?”

  Lara rolled her eyes. Her mother, Angela Nunes, was no dummy. She would have to sound the calmest she could over the phone to make this work. She steered her wheel into their house’s driveway. His house, she corrected internally.

  “Mom. We’re having a reception in a few weeks.
I’ll tell you to come back from Aunt Celia’s as soon as I can.” She would bet money that her mom and Aunt Celia already exchanged enough passive-aggressive jabs. They loved each other, those two, but also moonlighted as frenemies.

  “Larissa Ana Nunes, what are you hiding from me? How did you meet this man? Who is he?”

  Ugh. Full name. She was in trouble.

  Larissa parked her car, turned it off and hit her head against the steering wheel. Frustration crept under her skin. If she told her mom the truth, her mom wouldn’t keep a secret. She’d make her opinion known the moment she met Troy, and possibly his family. “I’ll be honest, Mom. I met him a couple months ago, but it wasn’t anything serious. I’m very into him though, and we decided to take the plunge. I knew you’d say it was a mistake. Um erro,” she added in Portuguese, knowing it was a sure way to get on her mom’s good side.

  “Erro doesn’t begin to cover it. Meus Deus, Larissa. You barely know this man.”

  Can’t argue there. “I love what I do know about him. And that may be not enough for you, but it is for me now. And it’d mean a lot if you supported me. Por favor.”

  She heard her mother’s exhaling on the other end of the line. “I thought your brother was the one I had to be worried about.”

  Miguel. He still hadn’t replied to her texts after she told him she was handling the situation with Troy. Miguel tended to weasel his way out of his troubles and magically appear after they had been solved. Hopefully this time, he’d stay away until it was safe for him to return. “He still is, Mom. I’m fine.”

  “Okay. Well, tell me more about this reception, because I have to be back to Tulip so I can witness this nonsense.”

  She slid out of the car and shut the door closed. Her mom continued her mom rant, and Lara simply agreed or made some humming sounds to show she hadn’t hung up. When they finally ended the conversation, she put her cell in her bag and sighed. She should have known her mother could be a liability for this marriage.

  “Hey,” said a male voice behind her.

  She turned to see Troy, emerging out of his home office. “Hi. Home early?”

  “Just catching up on some stuff from here,” he said.

  “Any news on my brother’s situation?”

  “I’m meeting Conor. Texted him today.”

  “I need for you to make things happen. If not, none of this will be worth it,” she said. She’d have to put up with her mom questioning her every decision from now on. Her brother had to be safe. “Handle this. I want my mom to come to our party and you need to make sure any misunderstanding with that guy is cleared out.”

  “Will do.”

  She perched her hands in her waist. “When?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  7

  Troy rolled up his sleeves as he waited in the impressive home of Conor O’Donnell.

  “Mr. O’Donnell will be right here, sir,” the muscle head who had opened the door informed him. Then, he disappeared up the stairs and left him standing in the living area.

  He refused to sit, at least for now.

  The previous day, he’d guaranteed to Lara he’d handle Miguel’s situation with Conor O’Donnell today.

  He doubted the hot-blooded man would simply accept his apology. Shit, he hated asking to make amends too. Blood simmered in his veins. This visit would make him weaker—would make his family perceived as weak, which was the opposite of how he wanted to impress his father and gain control of the operations.

  Conor showed up, with his blond hair slicked back. Medium height and average built, he could see how Miguel had been able to overpower him. A small scar marred his neck, and there were many versions as to how he’d earned it. Troy didn’t particularly care about any of them. “Troy. Have a seat,” he said, gesturing at the leather sofa.

  Troy swallowed, but didn’t move an inch. Not yet. “Thank you for seeing me,” he said.

  Conor canted his head, then sat on the sofa across from the one close to Troy. He sat at last, his gaze trained on Conor. “What do you want?”

  “To apologize on behalf of Miguel Nunes. It was an honest mistake as you probably gathered. You weren’t the man we meant to hurt.”

  Miguel Nunes had been a loose cannon. Their instruction had been to threaten first, and only use violence as a last resort. Many debtors had the money laying around but didn’t pay to get a leg up or just be assholes. But Miguel had gone in with all guns blazing—and pointed them at the wrong guy.

  Conor regarded him, eyes narrowing. “Doesn’t matter why he beat me up, does it? He made a mistake, and I can’t just sweep that under the rug.”

  “I understand. Which is why I’m here. Let’s talk about what would make it better.”

  Conor barked a laughter. “Make it better? What are you, my mother? That fucking loser ran like a rat. If he shows up in town again, he’s dead meat.”

  The pulse in his neck ticked. “I can’t have that. C’mon, Conor, be reasonable. Maybe one of our properties downtown can switch hands and you can get over it.”

  “A property downtown?” Conor whistled. “You must really want this guy off the hook.”

  “Do you want it or not?”

  “Is it maybe because Miguel’s sister is the woman you just married?”

  Apprehension dripped down his spine. Of course he should have assumed that Conor would know it by now and connected the dots. He’d hoped on solving things now so the news wouldn’t get to his father. “I was dating her for a while. That’s why I hired him to work for me,” he said, managing to sound casual.

  “Interesting. Because a cynical man such as myself would think she married you to make up for her fuck-up brother. How else would she secure your protection?”

  He stood, a sting of frustration propelling him upright. “We’re not here to talk about my wife.”

  “Why not? She’s a lovely woman.”

  Bile rose up his throat, and he curled his fingers into fists. Keep your cool, a part of him warned. But the way that sleazeball dared to talk about Lara made him see red. “This is my last offer. Downtown property.”

  A slimy smile formed in his lips. “I have a counteroffer.”

  “Name it,” he said casually, but his fingers balled into a fist.

  Conor turned on his seat, as if he wanted to take a good look at him. “Your wife. For one night.”

  Anger rocketed inside him, and he launched at Conor and before the man could react, grabbed him from the sofa and punched his gut. “That’s enough,” he said, then let go of him.

  Conor slowly stood upright, touching his stomach, pressing his fingers on his ribs. His facial expression hardened, his eyes cold like an Alaskan winter. “Bastard. You came here to apologize for me getting beaten then you do the same? Is this a fucking joke?” He glanced over his shoulder, and the security man stormed in the room, and slammed Troy into a wall. Fuck.

  Lara slid out of her car, flicked the garage door behind her and opened the door leading to the mud room, then strode to the kitchen. For the past ten days, she’d been living in this place with him, this beautiful house he rented that she refused to call their home.

  Yet the domestic sensation of coming home after a long day swirled around her. She had to remind herself this wasn’t theirs; there was no theirs. She’d even adjusted her schedule to time out when he usually ate breakfast or arrived from work so they could blissfully avoid each other.

  Her room had been her oasis and her prison cell. She’d tried to relax, finish work emails, watch a funny movie on a streaming service… but she’d look at the textured walls and remind herself she lived under the same roof as he. That he could be in his room, showering, completely naked. And that image kept her from getting a good night’s sleep.

  She tossed her keys on the console, and the light at the kitchen caught her attention. Was his housekeeper still here?

  Slowly, she stepped into the kitchen to find him shirtless, leaning over the sleek fridge, reaching for a frozen piece of steak. />
  She should spin on her heels and dash to her room, but her gaze became a hostage of his wide back, the chiseled muscles and ridges shifting at his slightest move. Sighing, she stepped back, and he turned to her, surprising her.

  “What?” She looked at him, but it wasn’t his handsome face and tight body that got her rapt attention, but the purplish ring under his eye. Her stomach dropped to the floor. She trailed her gaze down his body, to find another couple of red patches on his chest. More than a couple. “Troy, what happened to you?”

  Instinctively, she reached out to touch him, to comfort him, but he lifted his hand to stop her. Grabbing the thick piece of meat, he sat on the chair next to the table. He said something under his breath, then placed the piece on his eye.

  “Talk to me,” she insisted, raising her voice. “This is not the time for your encrypted messages or tortured silence.”

  He tilted his head back against the wall. Even hurt, he still was a gorgeous man. “This is no big deal. I took care of business.”

  “What are you talking about?” She pulled up a chair and sat across from him.

  “I talked to Conor. He’s forgiven your brother.”

  A wave of relief washed over her. Did that mean her brother could come back to Tulip? Her mother would be elated—and maybe this news would get her off Lara’s back for marrying a complete stranger. One could hope. “So, why did he hit you?”

  Troy fixed the steak on his eye. “He was bored and had a bodyguard nearby to do his dirty work.”

  “What? Doesn’t make any sense. In fact, that doesn’t seem like this dude forgave anything.” If that was how Conor forgave people, what would he do when he didn’t? A cold shiver ran down her body. Troy had promised her to protect her… but how could that happen if a simple conversation turned into a punch party? “I need to know this kind of thing won’t happen to my brother.” Or me, she added internally.

  “Your brother is fine. A light brawl is how things got settled. By getting me hit, he won’t have people hit your brother. Got it out of his system.” He shrugged. “Don’t worry about it, Lara. I’m holding up my end of the bargain.”