Page 56 of Good Girl Gone Bad

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.

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