Good Girl Gone Bad

by Falcone, Carmen

  His throat pulsed, and he had to convince himself to move on with his plan, for her sake and happiness, even if it seemed like he was doing the opposite. “This has been the agreement from the beginning. I never wanted to hurt you, Lily. That’s why I had a contract.”

  “You didn’t want to hurt yourself. That’s why you needed a piece of paper to keep from getting close.”

  A knot formed in his gut, and each time he glanced at her, the knot twisted painfully. “I’m sorry. I can’t give you anything else. I never promised I would.”

  “Another easy way out for you. You can shove your so-called honesty up your ass. I doubt you’re being honest right now. You’re going to stand here in my home and tell me you’re totally fine with letting me go? That you don’t feel anything for me other than sexual chemistry?”

  He paced, shoving his trembling fingers into his pockets to keep them from view. “What I feel doesn’t matter. Feelings don’t have an IQ. I need to follow my instinct.”

  She grabbed a box of tissues from her countertop and used them to wipe the tears from her glossy, achingly sad eyes. He had to wrestle the need to erase the distance between them and hug her tightly.

  “Your instincts suck. And you know what?” She crumpled the tissue and tossed it to the floor, then locked her eyes with his. “You’re not honest. You’re afraid.”

  He exhaled. “I’m rational. Trust me, I’m making a decision for the both of us that you’ll thank me for later.”

  “Is this because I told you I loved you?”

  “No,” he lied. He’d hate for her to rehash what she’d said later on her own. She hadn’t done or said anything wrong, anyway. “It’s over.”

  “When I met you, I thought you were this powerful man who fought for what he wanted. Then I learned you fought against your own emotions because they’d hurt you through the years. Now I see a coward who’s not even willing to fight for what he deserves. You’re too set in your own little world of games and documents.”

  “That’s right,” he said.

  “Get out of my home,” she said, stretching to her full height. Despite the tears, and the melancholy in her voice, there was a challenge in her eyes he didn’t dare to accept. “I was always okay with you being broken, but I’m not good with you being a coward.”

  …

  “Honey, I love all my gifts. You shouldn’t have,” her mother said, glancing at all the souvenir knickknacks and shirts Lily had bought in Italy. “But I’m so glad you did,” her mother said with a wink, then played with a small key ring.

  Lily willed herself to smile. After Marco had left her apartment, she’d given herself three full days before visiting her mother. To conceal her puffy red eyes, she’d put on a godawful amount of makeup.

  “What’s wrong?” her mother asked, sitting next to her on the opposite bed. Lily was glad her mother’s roommate had left for an aqua aerobics class and they could be alone.

  Crap. Her mother knew her too well, so saying nothing was out of question.

  “A couple of different things. I did meet a handsome Italian man, who ended up not returning my feelings.” Or he was too afraid to admit them. Sadness welled in her throat, but she swallowed the dry lump, determined to continue the clean version of what had happened, even if her voice trembled, a thread away from breaking completely. “He lives in New York, but…it’s complicated.”

  His mother withdrew. “Is he married?”

  “No. No.”

  “Then the war isn’t lost, my dear. Either he needs time to get to know you better, or he’s a fool.”

  For the past couple of days, Lily had called him every name in the book—fool hadn’t been one of them. He’d been a fucking coward. Maybe he didn’t love her the same way as she did him, but crap, she knew he had strong feelings for her. She’d felt it in his possession, had seen it in his eyes. “He’s a big fool who doesn’t want complications.”

  “Those are the biggest fools. You said two things—that you had something else to tell me. What is it?”

  “Well, I was able to save the salon. I didn’t want to tell you before, but it wasn’t doing well. Financially.”

  Her mother took her hand in hers and gave it a gentle tug. “Honey, I’m so sorry,” she said. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

  “Because you were so excited every time you mentioned it. That salon is the last thing left of the family I once had, of my childhood. I didn’t want it to slip away.”

  “Honey, that’s not true. I love the salon with every fiber of my being, but I hope your father and I left you with more than that,” she said, lifting her hand and briefly touching Lily’s heart. “Remember our first family trip to Coney Island? How every winter we drove up north to pick up a Christmas tree? How sad we became when you decided you no longer needed good-night stories? You must have been ten or eleven.”

  “Eleven.”

  “There you go. All these memories you can take with you anywhere you go.”

  “You’re making me cry.” Just when she’d vowed not to lose it in front of her mother.

  “It’s okay. Come here.” Her mother wrapped her in a hug. “Now, tell me, are those two things related—the man who broke your heart and the business? Did he try to take your business from you, or save it?”

  Crap. Mom had read enough Agatha Christie mystery novels back in the day to see right through bullshit. She cleared her throat. She should have felt triumphant at saving the business, keeping everything afloat. But having Marco leave her had the opposite effect. Her mother propped her to sit straight, and looked into her eyes.

  “You’re going to tell me everything.”

  …

  “I’m here to see Mr. Giordano,” Lily said to the receptionist. “Mr. Nicola Giordano,” she said, this time to herself.

  “Of course. Just a moment,” the woman said as she pressed a finger on the tiny earpiece.

  Lily had called Nicola’s assistant about an hour before, requesting a meeting with him. She’d expected to wait a lot longer, but Marco’s brother had agreed on seeing her immediately.

  Telling her mother the truth a day earlier hadn’t been easy. But now she knew why saving the salon weighed so heavily on her shoulders. She’d used her body to save her business. She’d ended up compromising her heart, as well, but it didn’t feel right. Marco no longer contacted her, and despite how he’d acted, she knew their time together had been more than a business transaction for him. He just wasn’t willing to accept it.

  As the receptionist gave her a badge and gave her instructions, Lily simply nodded. She hadn’t eaten much lately, and unlike the first time she went to his office, today she had no intention of seducing Marco. Fresh faced and with her hair in a ponytail, she exited the elevator on the top floor and nodded when Nico’s assistant instructed her to enter his office.

  Apprehension settled in her stomach. What if she ran into Marco? God, that’d be beyond awkward.

  “Nico. Hi,” she said as she strode into his office.

  He stood from his chair. “Nice to see you, Lily. Please have a seat,” he said, gesturing at the leather chair in front of him.

  She walked through his enormous space until she found the chair and then sat. Only then did he sit. He grabbed a pen from a holder and clicked it. “I have to say, I’m curious about your visit. What brings you here?”

  She crossed her legs then uncrossed them. In her head, she had played how this would roll a few times on her drive over there. Now her stomach churned with nervousness. “You know the beauty shop I own? The one you and your brother needed so badly to build a garage?”

  Nico’s green eyes studied her. “Yes, of course.”

  She stared at him in silence. Those Giordano guys certainly didn’t make it easy for the New York women. Nico was just as dashingly handsome as Marco, though he didn’t provoke in her the same reactions his brother did. She took a deep, long breath and said, “When your brother first talked to me, he really needed my space. I didn�
��t want to sell, but I’ve changed my mind.”

  “You have?” He leaned closer, his brows furrowing. “Are you upping your price?”

  “No. I’d like to sell it and donate the proceedings to a cancer foundation in my father’s name,” she said, her shoulders dropping a notch. Her arms relaxed, and she felt good about her decision to let go of the past and focus on the future. She’d accused Marco of being a coward, but was she any different, clinging to her old way of life instead of making room for the new?

  Nico scratched the back of his neck, his expression a tad skeptical. As a businessman, she imagined he wouldn’t understand why she’d sell after everything she’d gained, and without asking for higher value. “Why the sudden change of heart?”

  “Because I have a hard time letting go of things, and this is my first lesson.”

  “Why contact me?”

  “Because you need the location. I admit, it’s not like you’ll use it for anything exciting, but that’s not my problem.”

  “Have you told my brother about it?”

  “No.” She didn’t want to face Marco again, not after the abrupt way they ended things. She surged to her feet and continued, “You don’t have to tell him about my visit. You can tell him whatever you want. Have your people contact me with a price. I’ll give them the information for where they can donate the money. We can deal with signing the contract, etcetera, then you transfer the funds to the charity. I am going to need evidence the transfer was made.”

  He stood as well. “No problem.”

  “Thanks. That’s all,” she said, nodding. She’d have to move forward to a life without the salon, and without Marco. Somehow, saying goodbye to the shop seemed a lot easier than knowing she’d never get to kiss Marco Giordano again.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Damn it. Where’s the Patterson file?” Marco asked himself, his fingers flying over the keyboard. He pressed the intercom button. “Claire, get me some coffee, please.”

  “Again?” she asked.

  He shook his head. So it was his fourth cup that morning. Who cared? “Yes.”

  In the past few days, he’d dived into work to forget about walking out on Lily. His fingers itched to call her every time he saw his cell phone. He itched to man up and go see her, take back all the nonsense he’d fed her—and himself. What if, deep down, she agreed with him? She didn’t need a man as cowardly as he’d been by her side.

  He’d been such a wimp he hadn’t yet opened the letter his grandmother wrote for him. After her death, the butler found letters she’d left inside her nightstand for her grandkids and other family members. She apparently wrote them a couple of days prior to the party because she’d known she didn’t have much time left. Marco carried his with him, inside his suit, and its presence gave him a sense of comfort he didn’t want to part with.

  “Your assistant asked me bring you this,” Nico said, pointing at the coffee mug he carried as he strolled into his office.

  “Thanks,” he said, rubbing his eyes.

  Nico placed the mug on his desk, and Marco fetched it right away, lifting it to his lips. “When was the last time you slept? Or shaved?”

  Marco chugged down the coffee then set down the cup. “I’ve been busy.”

  “Yes. Your assistant said you’ve practically lived here for the last few days.”

  Marco stretched his arms. “Why do you care?”

  Nico didn’t sit. He loitered, leaning against the desk, arms folding as he gave his brother a glance that told him he wouldn’t drop the subject easily.

  “What?”

  “Lily came to see me yesterday.”

  At the mention of her name, his heart skipped a beat, only to resume a second later, faster than ever. “You?”

  “Yeah.” Nico opened the folder he carried and laid it on the desk. “She wants to sell her salon to us.”

  Sell? This didn’t seem like Lily at all. Marco shortened the gap between them, launching himself at his brother, pulling his collar. “If you bullied her into selling it to you, God help me, I’ll beat the shit out of you,” he said, knowing not only were they the same height, but had similar set of martial art skills.

  Nico didn’t move an inch. He stared at him with a glint of amusement in his eyes. Marco’s fingers loosened on his collar until his arms dropped to his sides. “Wow. You really got it bad, baby brother.”

  Damn Nico. He knew how much Marco hated the baby brother crap. “Fuck off. Before you do, tell me exactly what happened,” he said. The Lily he knew—the Lily he loved—would never give up the salon that meant so much to her. She loved the place. Why on Earth would she do it?

  “Tell me,” he hissed.

  His brother lifted his hands in surrender. “Fine. I meant what I said. I didn’t go looking for her. I had even already talked to some disgruntled investors. Anyway, she showed up in my office and offered her salon. I was surprised at first, but I sent her a contract to make sure she wasn’t playing me, using the shop as a lure to get more money.”

  “She wasn’t.”

  “Nope. She wants all the money to be donated to her charity of choice. And she asked me not to tell you anything. Of course, in life we can’t have everything, so here I am.”

  Marco shook his head. “You aren’t going through with this. I forbid you.”

  Nico shrugged. “Why? I didn’t twist her arm; she came to me. There is no one in our way.”

  “She can’t… That place means everything for her. I need to talk to her.”

  “Well, I’m supposed to go inspect it tonight, after a meeting. Maybe I’ll let her know what you think,” Nico said, then smoothed his tie. He strolled to the door, and Marco could tell his brother waited for him to say something. To stop him. He saw Nico leave and close the door behind him, like he had dropped by only to feed him the news.

  He reached for the letter buried in the inside pocket of his suit and touched the envelope. The corners of the heavy paper curled, a sign he had played with it long enough, ever since he’d received it. Why did Lily want to sell the salon, and worse, not keep the profits? None of it made sense.

  With the tips of his fingers unsteady, he opened the envelope, retrieving the stationary paper with his nonna’s strong, cursive handwriting. He touched the paper before reading, trying to understand why he associated it with Lily.

  His pulse raced as he began to read the short note written in Italian.

  “My dear Marco,

  Tomorrow I will give your Patricia the necklace that belonged to your mother. I don’t know if I’ll be around to see her wearing it, but I want her to have it. I know life didn’t hand you a good start, and many times I blamed myself for your unhappiness. There were many days I wished I had taken you out of your father’s home and raised you myself.

  I did try once to talk to him into it, but he refused. I should have tried harder. I should have contacted the authorities—those thoughts have always haunted me.

  I thought I’d never see you embracing love. When I met Patricia, I saw how you looked at her, and to know you’ve taken the plunge, that you have decided to pursue your own joy, makes me happier than you can ever imagine.

  If this letter reaches you, that means I’ve left and have encountered your mother. I’ll tell her about the smart, successful, caring man you’ve become. I’ll tell her, despite the cards you were dealt, you aren’t afraid anymore.

  Love you more than anything,

  Nonna.”

  Marco sank into the chair, dropping the letter to the floor. His limbs felt weak and loose in contrast to the heavy weight expanding in his chest. His heart throbbed in his temple, pounding his veins more than any migraine ever had.

  I’ll tell her, despite the cards you were dealt, you aren’t afraid anymore. He could almost hear his grandmother’s voice saying those words. He thrust his hands into his hair, hoping to ease down the agony consuming him.

  Lily is right. I’ve been a coward. “A coward,” he said out loud, as if it
would bring any sort of clarity about his actions. She could have used giving up her business as an excuse to see him, or hell, even blackmail him—emotionally or monetarily.

  That wasn’t his Lily. She was kind, generous, honest. Maybe he’d known that all along but preferred not to believe it, because knowing a woman like her genuinely loved him made it hard for him not to love her back.

  He swallowed the lump in his throat. He loved her…and he’d been a fool not to learn the one lesson she’d taught him even without enunciating the words—courage. She’d fought for her salon. She’d fought for truth the entire time they were together, getting him to speak about the past he’d thought he’d buried. Hell, she’d even fought for him when she told him she’d fallen for him.

  A rush of adrenaline bolted through him, urging him to surge to his feet. Determination filled his heart.

  It’s high time I started fighting for her.

  …

  Lily clutched her bag. Shit, she was running late. She’d spent the day sending out resumes and scheduling interviews at bigger, coveted salons where she’d love to work. Then, Nico texted her and asked her to come to his office. Then, another message from Nico told her about a change of plans. She must go to her salon ASAP because he had some issues he needed to discuss, important setbacks that could halt the negotiations.

  Whatever. Who cared, if they were going to demolish the place anyway? By the time she arrived, most of the businesses around her were either quieter than usual or already closed. Some of them had asked for a grace period after selling to Nico, while others were already operating elsewhere.

  She reached for her bag to retrieve her keys and open the glass door, then she noticed the door was opened a notch. What? Did Nico let himself in, and maybe wanted to prove a point about low security? Still didn’t make sense, though. Even if he had found big foundation problems with the area, it wouldn’t matter if they planned do away with the strip mall completely.

  Sighing, she walked in. Dozens of small, lit candles were scattered everywhere…on the shelves, on her counter, on the floor. The scent of lilies inundated the place, and she noticed several vases of flowers embellishing the space, blending with the fragrance of the candles. What the hell? Did Nico think he could just seduce her since his brother was out of the picture?