Page 6 of Good Girl Gone Bad

She lifted an eyebrow. “I’m not a hooker.”

“No, you’re not. You’re a brilliant woman, who’s also very proud. You’re a woman who excites me in a way I haven’t been in a long time. I don’t mean to offend you. Let’s say we’re two regular people who met through mutual friends or at a bar. We date for one month, figure out we’re not a match outside the bedroom. It could happen. What would we get in the end? False hopes and heartbreak at best. What I’m doing is ensuring you’ll get the backup you deserve in this shitty situation, while I get what I need,” he said, remembering the abandonment with which she’d come in his arms. His pulse raced with the image alone. He couldn’t wait to have her come again, several times. He couldn’t wait to savor her over and over.

“You talk like this is a business deal.”

He reached into his inside pocket and grabbed a business card. The dynamics of the boardroom had taught him to keep his poker face. If she knew how much he wanted her to say yes, she’d have the upper hand. “It is. I’ll draw up a contract. Two, in fact. One is a confidentiality agreement, and the other one states you’ll be mine sexually—only mine—and I’ll give you what you want at the end of the month.”

“What you’re offering isn’t what I want.”

He grabbed a pen and added his personal cell phone number to the back of the card. When he stepped forward to give it to her, she jerked away, as if the minimal contact with him would start a chain of events she’d rather crush. “It’s the best offer you can get. I’ll pay all your debts, pay well above market value for your space, and set you up in a coveted location.”

She shot him a mocking smile. “An Italian knight in white and shining armor saving me from harm all because of my heavenly pussy. The stuff Shakespearean poems are made of.”

He suppressed a chuckle, intent on showing how serious he was about his proposal, and put his business card on the shelf. “I’m giving you twenty-four hours to consider my offer. After that, it’s off the table.”

…

“Hi, Mama.” Lily walked into the nursing home’s shared living area. Several folks talked either to each other, or to the TV displaying a daytime talk show. She had wanted to bring her mother flowers, but for the past few weeks she’d been saving however she could.

“Hi, sweetie,” her mother said, and when she stood from the recliner chair, she did so more slowly than usual, her hand resting at her hip.

“Are you okay?” Lily asked. Her mother sure looked younger than her seventy-one years, as Estelle Jenkins had always taken good care of herself. After her husband’s death a year and a half ago, she’d decided to go to a retirement community where she’d still be pretty independent but would have help if needed, especially after a hip replacement surgery and other age-related health concerns.

Estelle waved her off. “I’m fine, honey. I attended a beginner’s ballroom dancing class yesterday and am paying the price now.”

“Mom… Be careful.”

Estelle’s blue eyes sparkled. “I’ve been careful my whole life, dear. Wife of a pastor. Can’t a girl have some fun?” She winked with her trademark wit, and Lily’s heart squeezed in her chest.

She gave her mom a hug that lasted longer than intended, finding comfort in the warmth of her embrace. When she disengaged, Estelle looked at her with concern. “What is it, munchkin?”

Well, munchkin is broke and about to sell her soul to the devil.Lily ran her fingers into her hair, messing up her ponytail. If Marco had meant it, she had just over two hours to make the decision that could change her life and corrupt every value her father had instilled in her. Maybe she deserved it—if she hadn’t screwed Marco, she wouldn’t know what it was like. The way he touched her and made her feel would be enough reason for her to pay him for a screw—if she could afford it.

“Is it a man? Did my Lily finally meet someone special?” Her mother smiled, and they walked through the Japanese-themed gardens.

“I’m not sure special is the word. I’m not ready to talk about him or anything,” she said, glancing down at the pebbled path.

Estelle chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes. You know, when I met your father, I wasn’t a practicing Christian. I was scared, at first, because he felt so strongly about what he stood for. I didn’t know if I could live up to that.”

“How did you know?”

“I gave it a shot,” Estelle said. “I don’t regret it. Your father gave me everything I needed. By the way, how’s the salon?”

“Oh. It’s doing well.” Lily used the same response she’d given her mom for months. Her heart burned with regret every time she’d said it, but she refused to say anything else until she clawed her way out of the mess she was in. She’d seen how selling her family’s assets had devastated Estelle, and she’d promised her mom—and herself—after Dad’s funeral, she’d do whatever she could to always keep the salon. That part of their past wouldn’t, couldn’t, be destroyed.

“Maybe one of these days you can take me back for a day trip,” Estelle said. Once a month in the past year, Lily had summoned Estelle’s clients from back in the day and brought her mom for a fun “girl’s day” at the salon she’d called home for decades.

“Yes, we’ll arrange something.” Fear churned in her stomach. In less than two years, her mother had lost her husband, battled breast cancer, then endured a hip replacement surgery. She’d left their house and moved into the retirement home. She’d lost so much, yet kept positive, in high spirits—no doubt always looking forward to those days when she visited her old stomping grounds and remembered the occupation she dearly loved. What if she had to give that up, too?

“Good. I was telling Jeff, the new resident, how well you’ve taken care of it for me.”

Lily evoked her inner Emma Stone and nodded, hoping her fake upbeat expression would come across passable. “Don’t give me too much credit, Mama. I’m not like the hairstylist for the rich and famous or anything.” These days, she’d be grateful if a poor and anonymous person stopped by for a cut.

Estelle held her hand. “No, but you’re doing what you love and also keeping the business I created,” she said, tears brimming in her eyes. Her mother rarely cried. “I just want to say, sweetie…thanks for all you’ve been doing. I worked hard to keep that place and made some of my best memories there.”

A lump of frustration lodged in Lily’s throat. She wanted to tell her mother the salon would be turned into a freaking parking garage, but the words got stuck in her mouth. She couldn’t do that to her mother. Hell, she couldn’t do that to herself. She fished out her cell phone from her pocket and glanced at the time on the screen.

Time to make up my mind.

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