Dirty Flirty Enemy

by Rayne, Piper

  Dirty Flirty Enemy

  PIper Rayne

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  © 2019 by Piper Rayne

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  Cover Photo: Wander Aguilar

  Cover Model: Thom Panto

  Cover Design: Mad Hat Covers

  First Editor: Joy Editing

  Second Editor: My Brother’s Editor

  Proofreader: Shawna Gavas, Behind The Writer

  Dirty Flirty Enemy

  He’s the arrogant Manhattan realtor with billboards advertising his six-pack more than his expertise in negotiations.

  I’m the competing broker who stupidly moved across the hall from his office.

  From day one, I’ve been his sworn enemy. Okay, so I might have accidentally stolen one of his clients. Well, is it stealing if the client comes to me?

  Even our vicious banter and loathing gazes can’t hide the chemistry between us. Who can blame me? He has enough charisma to make every hot-blooded woman in the city melt with a single word.

  Just when I think a mutual respect could be born between us, the biggest developer in the city offers us an opportunity that pits us against each other.

  Time to forget Carmelo Mancini’s dreamy eyes and tight abs.

  Game on.

  Contents

  Free Downloads

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Epilogue

  Cockamamie Unicorn Ramblings

  About Piper & Rayne

  Also by PIper Rayne

  CLICK HERE to join our NEWSLETTER and receive 6 FREE Prequels that aren’t sold on retailers!

  Chapter One

  Bella

  I step out of the taxi only to be front and center with Carmelo Mancini’s ridiculous new billboard ad.

  First time? I’ll be gentle.

  Along the bottom, it says, I LOVE first time buyers!

  Real subtle. He’s always using his sex appeal to try to gain clients. Probably offers sexual favors if they sign on the dotted line. If I were a spiteful woman, I might find my way up to that billboard late at night and spray-paint something juvenile over that cocky smirk of his.

  But I’m not.

  At least today I’m not.

  I can’t let him get any farther under my skin though, because I’m bound to run into him, what with my new office being across the hall from his. Is the location ideal? Not at all, but I needed a new office and this building had an unexpected immediate opening, which meant the landlord was desperate to fill the space. Cheaper rent weighed against a few run-ins with Carmelo Mancini made it an easy choice.

  I roll my eyes at the ad and make my way into the building. A man in a suit opens the door for me, and I smile politely. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He nods.

  We file into the elevator, and my hands clench around the handle of my briefcase. I lean forward to press the six button, but he beats me to it. He heads to one corner of the small shared space and I head to the other. As the doors are sliding shut, a cute brunette stops them with her hand and enters with a bright cheery smile. I try not to show my relief at not being alone with this strange man in the elevator.

  “So sorry.” She glances at the floor buttons, doesn’t hit one, and takes up residence between the guy and me.

  I feel her eyes on me, so I turn and smile. I already have one enemy in this building, no need for another.

  “Hi, I’m Annie.” She puts out her hand.

  I shake it. “Bella.”

  “I know.”

  “You do?” My head tilts to the side.

  “Sorry.” She waves her hand in the air. “I work at the Mancini Agency.”

  “You work for Carmelo?” I ask.

  Her eyes widen. “God, no. He’s Mancini Real Estate. The Mancini Agency is an ad company owned by his brother, Enzo… er, Lorenzo Mancini.”

  “There’s two of them in this building?” I ask.

  She laughs, an infectious one at that. “Just be thankful the third brother, Dominic, isn’t here. He’s kind of a buzzkill.” She leans forward. “I heard you were taking up the vacant office on our floor. I’ve seen your ads, so I recognized you.”

  I grab a business card from the outside sleeve of my briefcase, and I hand the card over to her. “Well, if you’re ever in the market to sell FSBO is a great option…”

  She smiles sweetly, a look I’m all too familiar with. The one where someone is about to nicely decline my services.

  The real estate market in New York isn’t for the weak. When I left a traditional brokerage to start a For Sale By Owner company that only charges a fee for putting a property on the MLS, I hadn’t realized how hard starting over would be. Sometimes I second-guess that decision—until I remind myself of the reasons why I stepped away.

  “In the interest of full disclosure, I should probably mention that I’m in a relationship with Enzo—Lorenzo Mancini.” She cringes as if she’s sorry for sleeping with the enemy.

  The guy in the corner chuckles lightly and Annie whips her head around, but the guy pretends to be engrossed in his phone.

  “That’s convenient.” I keep my voice light, so she knows I’m not being snarky.

  Annie waves me off. “Yeah, well, long story there, but as you can imagine, our real estate business has to go to Carm—Carmelo, what with the Italian family thing.”

  The guy chuckles again and Annie peeks over her shoulder.

  Thankfully, the elevator dings, signaling that we’ve reached our floor and the doors part for us to exit.

  I step out of the elevator then turn to face her. “Nice meeting you, Annie.”

  And it was. She seems nice, and I could use someone who’s not hostile toward me in this office building.

  The guy hovers around the outside of the elevator, staring at the small sign on the wall as though he doesn’t know where he’s going.

  “Nice to meet you. We’ll definitely have to plan some kind of after-hour drinks together.” Annie waves to me and turns on her heels.

  She’s so carefree and at ease. I feel like a ball of thread wound so tight no one can unravel me.

  The man stays by the sign as I walk to my office. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up because it seems odd. He knew he had to be at floor six and there aren’t that many offices in this building. Four, total, on this floor.

  I’m about to open the door to my office when I feel a grip on my elbow. “Excuse me.”

  I swing around, deliberately smacking him hard in the leg with my briefcase.

  He stumbles back and ben
ds at the waist to hold his knee, and I quickly step into my office, letting loose a relieved breath when I spot Max at her desk. She looks at me over the rim of her glasses, probably wondering why my back is plastered to the door.

  “Is the Mancini guy out there?” she asks, sliding her chair out from her desk. She tosses her glasses onto her paper-ridden desk and rounds her desk.

  “No. I think I might’ve overreacted.”

  A knock sounds on the door behind me a second later.

  “I’ll see about that.” She places her hand on my hip and slides me away from the door before opening it a crack. “Hello?”

  “Hi. Is Bella available?”

  “And who may I say is asking?” She eyes me then looks back at him.

  “Kevin Henderbrook.” The man’s voice is deep.

  My face heats from the embarrassment of hitting him with my briefcase.

  “Is she expecting you?” Max asks.

  “No. But I had an appointment with Carmelo Mancini until I heard what she offers.”

  My stomach flips. How does this man want to do business with me when I very well could have broken his kneecap?

  Max opens the door and ushers him in. “By all means, come in. Sorry, but we’re two women and new to this building. You can never be too careful.”

  Mr. Henderbrook glances at me. “It’s quite all right. I have five daughters. I should’ve known not to approach you like that.” He bows his head in apology.

  He’s sophisticated and attractive for a man who’s probably in his fifties. I didn’t get a good look at him until right now, which my self-defense coach would reprimand me for.

  “Please, I’m sorry. It was instinct. Come on in. Would you like something to drink?” I wind through our small office. Small meaning it’s me, Max, and two other part-time real estate reps who handle outside appointments and pictures if need be, so they’re rarely ever here.

  “No, I’m good. I just wanted to hear more of what your company can offer.”

  We enter my office and I shut the door. He sits across from me, and I give him my best pitch with the hope he’s actually interested. When I moved in across the hall from the Mancini Real Estate agency, I never intended to poach a client from them, but when opportunity knocks, you can’t say no.

  You can apparently hit them with your briefcase though.

  An hour later, Mr. Henderbrook signs the contract and slides the papers toward me. “Now comes the hard part. Letting Carm know I went a different route.”

  I cringe, although I’m not really upset about it other than I feel empathy for my new client. Carm hasn’t exactly been quiet about speaking against companies like mine, saying we can’t properly represent our clients and a bunch of other bullshit. He wouldn’t walk away from a nine-million-dollar penthouse deal that fell into his lap and neither should I.

  “Good luck.”

  He waves me off. “None of your concern.”

  We both rise from our seats. “I do apologize again for hitting you.”

  Again, his hand waves to shoo off any concern. “I would’ve told my daughters to do the same thing. I was hesitant to approach you because Carm’s always been my guy, but the for-sale-by-owner thing has always intrigued me, and hearing you talk with that woman in the elevator… well, it felt like the universe trying to point me in the right direction or something.”

  I open my office door. Max’s hands are flying feverishly across the keyboard.

  “Do you know Annie?” I ask Kevin, leading him out.

  He chuckles like he did in the elevator. “I’ve heard about her. Carm is a pretty animated guy, and well, you can’t get to know him over the years without hearing about his family. So I don’t know her, but I know of her if that makes sense?”

  I giggle because I understand. It’s true that a client and a realtor end up sharing a lot over the process of buying or selling. “Interesting. I’ve yet to actually meet Carmelo, so I wouldn’t know.”

  Mr. Henderbrook stops at the door. “You haven’t met him?” He glances at the door across from mine. The plaque next to it says Mancini Real Estate.

  “We just moved in and our paths haven’t crossed. I only know of him.”

  His eyebrows rise. “Be careful, Miss Scott. He’s so charming, it’s hard to know if he’s the prince or the villain.” He winks and sticks out his hand while I’m still processing the meaning of his sentence. “It’s been a pleasure. Looking forward to seeing how this turns out.”

  I shake his hand as the door across the hall opens. There stands Carmelo Mancini in the flesh. I loathe that he looks better in real life than he does on those damn billboards.

  I watch him wrap his mind around the scene in front of him. His eyes narrow on me before a smile appears. A bright, toothy smile. If someone told me it twinkled like in those princess movies kids watch, I wouldn’t refute it. It’s then I understand Mr. Henderson’s warning.

  Carmelo Mancini is like poison wrapped in the most delectable chocolate. By the time you realize your mistake, it’s too late.

  Chapter Two

  Carm

  After Kevin messaged me to say he was running late, I kept busy by looking up comps, but I see now that the enemy has successfully poached my client and I wasted my time.

  “Kevin, great to see you again.” I cross the hallway, hand extended, boisterous voice and permasmile plastered on my face as always.

  He hesitantly looks at the she-devil then back at me, extending his hand. I pride myself on reading people and I don’t need Braille on Kevin’s palm to know that I’ve lost his account. He’s asked me time and time again about the for-sale-by-owner companies popping up in this city like damn Starbucks. He’s a smart businessman and with success comes confidence. I admire the fact that he thinks he can sell his own condo, but I know I can sell it faster and for more money than he can. Not to mention handle the vetting of prospective buyers. The fact is, no one sees my value until they don’t have me. He’ll learn his lesson the hard way.

  “Can we talk?” Kevin says.

  The worst part about my job is the fake bullshit that comes with it. I can’t just say go to fucking hell and good luck with Gingersnap over there. She’s not going to stage the property, nor does she have Manhattan’s best photographer on speed dial to make it look as though it’s worth the inflated price he’s demanding. Instead, I smile, open my office door, and allow him in, giving Miss Scott my back as though I couldn’t care less that she stole my client.

  Jot this down—don’t ever let the competition see you upset. Horrible rookie mistake.

  I don’t bother taking Kevin to my office. Instead, I pull him into the conference room while my right-hand man, Justin, watches from afar, probably wondering what the hell is going on. There are clients you wine and dine and there are old faithfuls. Kevin was in the latter category until five minutes ago. Hell, maybe I messed up and should’ve wined and dined him.

  I shake my head. Nah, I’m never wrong.

  “So you’re trying your hand at going FSBO, huh?” I ask, sitting at the head of the table.

  Kevin slides into the chair to my left, his hands clasped in his lap. He’s not going to act ashamed because he’s not. To him, I provide a service to fulfill his needs. In his mind, he doesn’t need me. But I’ll see the ashamed Kevin when he comes crawling back in three months because no one has bought the condo he thinks is such a hot commodity it can sell itself.

  “I have to, Carm. You know I’ve been wanting to.”

  “Anything I can say to change your mind?” I ask.

  “I’ve already signed the contract.”

  I nod and put out my hand. “I wish you luck.”

  He smiles and extends his hand. I use my friendly, confident handshake. The one that says, “Hey we’re still friends, no worries.”

  We’re not, for the record.

  “Thanks for understanding, Carm.”

  “You gotta do what you think is best for you.” Think being the operative word in that sen
tence. “I’m here should you need me—and actually, hold up a second.”

  You’re about to witness why I’m better than any other agent in New York City.

  I leave Kevin at the conference room door and approach Justin. “Pass me the market analysis on Kevin’s place.”

  He picks it up off the corner of his desk. “Is he ready to sign? I have the paperwork ready to go.”

  I rip up the contract I had written up. “Nah, he’s going FSBO.”

  Justin’s face distorts into a what-the-fuck expression. I smile, wink, then walk back to the conference room.

  “Here.” I hand the papers to him.

  Kevin thumbs through them and looks at me in disbelief. This will ensure that when his “sell my own place” experiment is over, he’ll still come back to me. I’m not arrogant enough to think someone else couldn’t steal him from me with a lower commission rate. “Thanks, Carm. Sorry you went to all that work for nothing.”

  He’s second-guessing his decision right now, so I’m going to fuck with his head. I slap him on the shoulder. “No big deal. Who knows, maybe it’ll sell by tomorrow.”

  It won’t.

  We both chuckle.

  “And if not, you know where to find me,” I add.

  “You’re the best.” He holds up the papers.

  I walk him to the door. I just lost a potential hundred-grand commission. Time’s ticking and I have to go make up that money until he returns.