Dirty Flirty Enemy Read online

  “Good luck.” I open our office door and walk him to the elevator. I even press the down button for him. “Let me know how it goes. Maybe one day I’ll hop on board the FSBO train and actually have a social life.” I laugh. Not my real laugh. The one reserved for clients.

  He steps into the elevator, presses the ground floor button, and waves as the doors close.

  Instead of going to my office, I head right into my brother’s Enzo’s advertising firm’s office. I need to cool the fuck down before I go apeshit on the redheaded she-devil across from my office. I barrel into the Mancini Agency, the door slamming behind me alerting their five employees of my arrival.

  Annie glances up from where she’s talking to the receptionist, a smirk on her face. “You look flustered.”

  I narrow my eyes because I can’t help but think she knows something about why I am, but why would she? Still, that look on her face…

  “I need to get she-devil evicted. Will you be my accomplice and say she’s running an escorting business out of her office?”

  Annie glances at their receptionist and says her goodbye before sliding her arm through mine and escorting me to my brother’s office. “I met her, and I think she’s lovely. Very friendly.”

  “Yeah, she’s friendly. She stole my client who was on the way up to see me.”

  “I saw them both on the elevator and she wasn’t even talking to him,” Annie says.

  She opens the door without knocking and Enzo holds up his finger, phone to his ear. Annie takes the chair across from the desk, and I sit on the couch by the window, which has a shitty view of an alley. Sometimes I think Enzo fell so fast from his Manhattan skyline view because of what? The woman sitting next to me. How scary is that thought? He left a partnership offer to start his own company and all because of love.

  Enzo’s acting much like I did moments ago with Kevin Henderson. Kissing ass with the hopes of hooking a client.

  I return to Annie’s comment. “Whose side are you on? Do I need to remind you that I’m basically family?”

  She laughs, the one only Annie can get away with without pissing me off more. Sometimes I see why my brother fell so hard. Not that I like her like that, but I can appreciate why my older brother does.

  I shake my head. “I think I’m going to plant a desk in the lobby, so my clients don’t have the option of running into her.”

  She laughs again, eyeing Enzo. He winks and smiles, his hand on the receiver as though he’s preparing to finish the call.

  Annie stares at my brother as though he’s a god, all dreamy eyes and desire oozing out of her. “He’s trying to get this client to jump ship from Jacobson and Earl.”

  “You’re no better than the she-devil. No wonder you like her.”

  Her eyes shoot my way with that look of judgment I swear she learned from my ma. “It’s not the same. I don’t think she’s trying to steal any of your clients. Like I said, she didn’t even talk to him in the elevator.”

  Enzo hangs up, stands from his desk, and sits next to me on the couch. I’m sure he’s pissed he’s sitting next to me and not Annie.

  “So?” Annie’s hopeful voice conveys that she cares more about this client than the fact that I’m going to be out of business if the she-devil continues to reside across the hall from me.

  “He’s willing to hear our pitch.” Enzo smiles and winks.

  A low moan falls out of Annie like she wishes I would disappear so they could celebrate in private. Not today. They’ll have to taper down their ridiculously high libidos. “You’re the best.”

  He winks again.

  I hold up my hands. “Enough. Let’s talk about me now.”

  Enzo blows out a breath and my head volleys between their non-verbal conversation. I’m not sure if it’s about me or about how they’re going to fuck as soon as I leave. The whole fraternization thing is going to bite them in the ass when two of their employees think it’s okay to lock the office door and screw like bunnies.

  “Hello?” I say, waving my hand between them.

  They both snap out of their lovesick haze. God help me if this ever happens to me.

  “Sorry, what’s up?” Enzo relaxes in the corner of his couch, loosening his tie.

  “She-devil just stole one of my clients while he was on his way up to sign listing papers with me.”

  “And?” Enzo asks.

  I hate that love has mellowed him out. He no longer runs on high like Dom and me. It’s annoying as fuck.

  “And it’s my business. So I was talking to Annie… we need to sneak in there and destroy the place so they evict her, or maybe we complain to the landlord that strange men are coming and going at all times.” I’m still thinking of how to orchestrate this when Enzo and Annie burst out laughing.

  “We’re not fifteen, Carm,” Enzo says once his laugh is stifled enough that he can speak.

  I point at Annie and stand from the couch. “You ruined him.”

  “Me?” Her eyes dart to Enzo as though she’s telling him to deal with his brother.

  “Yes. He would’ve been on board with this before you. But you and your body and your constant sex has put him in some orgasm-filled hypnosis.”

  Annie’s eyes widen, and she bites her lower lip to stop herself from reacting. “I’m… sorry?”

  I roll my eyes. “You should be.”

  “Handle it like an adult, brother.” Enzo doesn’t even look at me. He pats the couch next to him, eyeing Annie.

  She shakes her head. He pats again.

  “I’m out of here. I’ll leave you two to play your cat-and-mouse sex games. Thanks for nothing.”

  Laughter rings out of them both until the door shuts behind me. Their employees watch me leave.

  “Put your earbuds in, folks. Enzo’s about to crown Annie employee of the month again.”

  They laugh because they can’t be so naïve they don’t know what’s going on in that office during work hours.

  As I leave the Mancini Agency and step into the hallway, she steps out too.

  The she-devil.

  The hallway is long, but she must feel my seething eyes on her because she stays in place instead of heading to the elevators. For a moment, I wonder if this is what it felt like, back in the Wild West, to be in a standoff with your hand on the gun.

  Then her heels click on the floor as she makes her way toward me and the elevator. I step forward and match her pace, not willing to be outdone by her, even on this.

  “I think we need to get a few things straight.”

  She giggles. “Carmelo Mancini, I presume?” She smiles and extends her hand when we both reach the elevator. “Huh. I thought…” She inspects me, her eyes moving down and up, then leaning around my body to gain another view. “So you used a body double for the billboards, huh?”

  She just amped this fight up another notch.

  Chapter Three

  Bella

  I’ve never been able to play the banter game. I’m the girl who thinks of a comeback five minutes later and curses myself for not being quicker on the draw.

  So although I’m not a mean-spirited person, I kind of want to high-five myself for that jab at Carmelo. The man is even better-looking in person than the blown-up version plastered around the city for millions of people’s viewing pleasure.

  “Yeah, right.” He puffs out his hard chest a bit, trying his best to put on that smile he probably practices in the mirror every day.

  “Oh sorry.” I shrug as if I couldn’t care less that I hit a sore spot.

  The elevator opens and I step in, praying he doesn’t follow.

  Of course, he does follow. He’s a fighter. That’s his reputation. I might not know Carmelo Mancini, but I know of him. The rumors—the good and the ugly. He’s well known in this city, in this industry.

  “Tell me, Ms. Scott, why did you choose this building for your office?” He crosses his arms, his blue eyes searing right into my green ones.

  “Miss,” I clarify.


  “Really?” He arches a brow.

  I hold up my left hand. “Not married.”

  “Yeah, I figured you were probably divorced.”

  My mouth is so wide open, a hippo could slide in unnoticed. But I know the way men like Carmelo Mancini work, and I don’t want him to know he got a reaction out of me, so I snap my mouth shut. He didn’t assume I was divorced; he assumed I’d be some nightmare of a wife no one could stand.

  “You should do better research, I guess.” I give him a saccharine smile.

  His gaze bores into me as though he thinks that will intimidate me. “You were a real broker once upon a time. Why go FSBO?”

  He knew of me? I’m surprised. Back in the day, I was a very small fish in a massive ocean of killer sharks.

  “Tired of the game? Money upfront?” I shrug. “There’re a lot of benefits to switching gears.”

  “You wanna talk money? Maybe we should compare paychecks at some point.”

  This man seriously wants me to stab him in the eye with my pen. Let’s see how sexy his billboards are after eye surgery.

  The elevator dings and I breathe in relief that the elevator didn’t get stuck. That’d be my luck.

  “Well, it’s been enlightening meeting you.” I step out into the building’s lobby.

  He follows me. “I think we should set some ground rules.”

  I laugh, opening the front door and stepping out into the beautiful late spring day. It’s gorgeous out, and I plan on grabbing a sandwich and spending an hour in Central Park. It’s the one day a week I refuse to work through my lunch.

  “Call my office and schedule an appointment.” I walk down the sidewalk.

  “Pretty sure your calendar is wide open. Let’s figure this out now.” He walks alongside me, flicking his wrist to check the time.

  Hopefully he has some dire meeting to get to.

  I stop at the street corner although I briefly debate if getting hit by a cab is better than talking to Carmelo Mancini.

  I tilt my head and blow out a breath. “Listen, I’m sorry about Mr. Henderbrook. It was never my intention to steal him. He overheard a conversation in the elevator and approached me. I know it must look bad, but I’m not the type to steal clients.”

  His sour mood dissipates slightly for a moment. “Still. Let’s agree that neither of us will hand out cards in the elevator.”

  I shake my head at him. The white pedestrian sign flashes saying that I can cross. Don’t need to tell me twice.

  I step off the curb, but he follows me. Again.

  “I won’t give out my business cards, okay?” I say.

  He glances at his watch once more. “Maybe we need some other guidelines, like no advertisements downstairs or in the hallway.”

  I stop on the other side of the street, outside my favorite sandwich place, but he’s not going to know that. “Fine.”

  He nods a few times, stuffing his hands into his pockets and studying me. It looks as though he wants to say more.

  Women walking by glance at him from the corner of their vision. I don’t blame them, he’s alluring. Too bad he knows it.

  “Let’s discuss it in one of our office’s after lunch?”

  “Sorry, I have plans.”

  “Client?” he asks.

  “Yeah,” I lie because a man like Carmelo will only accept defeat if it’s something he can relate to. If I said I’m going to grab my tuna on wheat, head to a park bench, and enjoy one hour of serenity to help keep my sanity, he’d try to weasel his way in, and I’d probably allow him.

  “Okay. Well then, we’re on the same page? I don’t see any other way we can coexist in the same building without those rules.”

  I nod. “Sure. Okay.”

  He waits for a full minute, staring at me. I’m not sure what else I can say to convince him. “I should go too.”

  “Bye.” I wave and swivel on the ball of my shoe.

  I wait for him to be lost in the crowd before I slide into line, pissed off that he took ten minutes from my solitude.

  * * *

  The minute I situate myself on the park bench and open my sandwich, my phone vibrates.

  I look at my mom’s name and sigh, pressing the voicemail button.

  A minute later, it’s vibrating again. If I talk to her briefly, maybe I can salvage a little time to myself. I slide my thumb across the screen and hold the phone to my ear.

  “Hey, Mom,” I say.

  “Bella. How are things?”

  “Good. I’m just having lunch.”

  “I have great news,” she says, and her mood is surprisingly chipper—which means she’s met someone.

  “Who is he?” I ask.

  She giggles as if she’s thirteen and a boy just said he likes her. My mom is a true romantic, but she keeps kissing frogs. If she didn’t manage a successful bakery she loves, I think she’d die of a lonely heart. She desperately tries to find someone. Unfortunately, she needs someone else to pick the person. Her type of man isn’t the grow-old-with-me type.

  “I’m blushing right now. You always know when there’s a man in my life.”

  Call it twenty-seven years of observation.

  I bite into my tuna because let’s be honest, my mom isn’t going to complain if I’m chewing in her ear. “Who is he?”

  “You’ll get to meet him because he’s bringing me to New York! I’ll be there either Wednesday or Thursday, then he’s taking me to his house in the Hamptons.” She squeals.

  I roll my eyes. “He does own the house, right? This isn’t like the time that guy broke in and the owners found you both naked on a bearskin rug in front of the fireplace?”

  “He didn’t break in. He had a key.”

  “He stole the key from their hiding place.”

  “Well, they should’ve changed the hiding spot after they fired him.”

  I sigh. She’s legit sticking up for a man she later found in her bed with some street-corner florist. “Anyway, let me know when you’re flying in and we’ll plan dinner or something.”

  “Perfect.”

  “What’s his name?” I take another bite of my sandwich.

  “Greg Throttle.”

  I choke on tuna fish. A small girl in her Catholic school uniform gives me a look of disgust as she walks by, holding her mom’s hand. Just wait, little girl. The world isn’t filled with rainbows and sunshine.

  “Mom,” I say. “Where did you meet him, and do you know who Greg Throttle is?”

  She sighs into the phone as though she’s remembering, and I wait for her version of their perfectly orchestrated meet-cute. Every one of my mom’s boyfriends has come with some cutesy story about how they met. “He kept coming into the bakery every morning for a coffee and my frittata. He’d tuck himself into the corner by the window and read the paper for a half hour before heading out. I was in the middle of this book I couldn’t put down, sneaking pages between customers. He saw me reading and asked about the book. I told him it was for my book club and he asked if he could join.”

  I roll my eyes for the fifth time in this conversation. If she was here to see it, she’d tell me they’re going to get stuck facing the back of my head at some point. But honestly, how does she not see the warning signs? “And you do know Greg Throttle is a huge developer in New York? Why is he in Florida, asking about book clubs?”

  It totally doesn’t hold weight. Someone is acting like him and my mom is buying it.

  “He said he’s here to look at a few properties on the ocean. You know how so much was wiped out by the hurricane. Our smaller hotels and motels are struggling.”

  I suppose that could be true, but the book club? A mogul like Greg Throttle does not have time for a book club.

  “Well, I’ll be happy to see you,” I say. I can get a read on the guy when I meet him.

  “Me too.” Her tone holds that airy quality it does when she’s in love. Which only means she’ll fall that much harder when his true colors are shown. I have no idea how she can continue
to pick herself up time and time again. “I’ll figure out the details and let you know.”

  “Sounds good.” I hear her mixer start. “Mom?”

  The mixer shuts off. “Yeah, sweetie?”

  “Just, you know… be careful.”

  She laughs. “One day, Bella.”

  “What?”

  “One day a man is going to come into your life. Then you’ll believe.”

  I take another bite of my tuna sandwich. She thinks because I’m skeptical about men, I don’t believe in love or even want a relationship. That’s not true, but I have a lot on my plate right now. Including a business to build, which she should understand. A love life is last on the list—although I could use a man in my bedroom, that’s for sure.

  “And he’ll want to join a book club with a middle-aged woman who’s not an heiress?” I ask.

  “Nice, Bella.” The mixer starts again.

  “I’m sorry.”

  My dad died young. I can’t fault my mom for wanting to find whatever they had with someone else. It’s not that I doubt someone like Greg Throttle could fall for my mom, she just doesn’t have the best track record.

  “I have to make a wedding cake for this weekend, so I’ll touch base with you next week.”

  “Okay, bye.”

  She hangs up with no goodbye, and I mentally kick myself for being so cynical with her. But come on, there have been so many men throughout my life that she thought might be the second love of her life.

  Now my lunch is ruined because the guilt of being bitchy to my mom hangs over me like a storm cloud, blocking me from enjoying the sun. I finish my tuna sandwich, toss the wrapper into the trash, and head back to my office, crossing my fingers that I don’t have another run-in with Carmelo Mancini.

  Chapter Four

  Carm

  Every Thursday, my two older brothers and I lunch at the Trading Post. As I walk through the lunch crowd to our usual table that Dom always secures, I shake hands and slap the backs of some other regulars.