Page 2 of Good Girl's Bad Lessons

“Then why?” The whole “It’s not you, it’s me” routine wasn’t going to cut it. She was smart enough not to fall for that one.

Simon scratched his head, visibly uncomfortable, and glanced around them in silence. Sure, there were other tables occupied, with couples whispering lovingly, too involved with each other to care. “We have no sexual chemistry.”

This was all about…sex? “I can work on that,” she said, injecting some enthusiasm in her voice. Really, was that the issue? “I can download a Kama Sutra app or something.” Hadn’t one of her friends raved over one of those before? Emma wasn’t vying for an Olympic medal in the aerobic sex department, but if that’s what it took to keep the man of her dreams, well, she’d roll up her sleeves.

A long sigh flew from his lips. “No. Listen, Emma, I want to be with someone who enjoys sex as much as I do, who values it like I do. You can’t fake that.”

She folded her arms. “Did you meet someone else?”

“No. I’d never cheat on you.” He looked straight into her eyes, and somehow she believed him. “I need to be with someone who’s more adventurous. I’m not here to change you, but I’ve seen a couple friends get married, and with Zaine’s wedding in a month…it got me thinking about what I want in a spouse. I’m sorry I didn’t discuss this with you sooner, before we got this far. I thought I’d be okay with it. Turns out I’m not.”

Hot tears brimmed in her eyes. Holy shit, how humiliating. Her pulse raced, and she wanted to make a big scene and yell at him. Pull the linens and drop the fancy china and cutlery, and he’d be the one stuck with the bill—and maybe a knife would land on his thigh.

Except, the bastard had a point. Sex really didn’t mean a lot to her. Sure, she enjoyed it enough, but she didn’t need it for survival. “You want a sex goddess,” she said softly.

Simon scratched his chin, and she hated how he gazed at her, as if he, too, was in pain. “If things are stale between us now, can you imagine after, say, twelve years of marriage?” he said, his voice trailing off.

She lifted the napkin from her lap and dried the corner of her eyes. “Sex isn’t everything.”

“It is when it’s not working. I’m sorry, Em. I love you, but…” He sighed. “Listen, I’m going to Venezuela for the next three weeks. I’ll be back before your brother’s wedding. If you don’t want me to attend—”

With a shrug, she produced a smile. “That’s silly. You and Zaine are friends, too. He’d want you to be there.” And so will I. She had four weeks to come up with Plan B. Or make it Plan D. “Can I ask you a favor? Don’t…tell anyone about our breakup yet. My mom and sister are so excited about Zaine’s wedding. I’ll let everyone know after the wedding.”

He flashed her an apologetic smile. “You got it.”

“Thanks.” She drew in a breath. If he thought she was done with him, he was dead wrong. Perhaps time apart was all he needed to focus on what really mattered in life. Meanwhile, she’d learn how to become a sexpert and win Simon back.

Oh, hell to the yes.

…

Nico Giordano glanced at the invitation he’d been given less than an hour ago for the fund-raising party. The golden cursive lettering sparkled when he shifted the expensive paper. He’d been trying to buy back his family vacation home for years, and finally he’d have the opportunity to meet the reclusive owner face-to-face.

Excited, he called his brother, Marco. After two rings, Marco came to the phone. Nico heard the giggle of a female voice in the background and hoped he didn’t interrupt anything between Marco and his wife Lily. If he waited for a good time to call them, he’d never do it. Those two screwed every waking moment. “Yeah?”

Nico snorted. He hadn’t gotten laid in four months, a record for him. Sex helped him relax and focus on what mattered. Like the opportunity to sway Desmorais to finally sell him the only place he’d experienced happiness as a child and fulfill a promise he’d made to himself and his late mother. Their former vacation home in Mauritius—the very same house Desmorais habited. “I pulled a few strings and got an invite for a fund-raising party in Mauritius next month.”

“You did? Is this about the Desmorais home?”

“It’s our home,” he said. Memories of the wonderful summers they’d spent in the large white house in Mauritius filled his heart. His mother had been healthy, for the most part, and he firmly believed the warm weather and simple living helped her cope with her mental illness when she’d been away from all the demands of an upper-class family in a traditional Italian setting. After she’d committed suicide and their father descended into alcoholism, it was like Papa had chosen to erase all the evidence of happiness—and selling the beloved home had been on the list.

“Nico, give up. You’ve tried to get this guy’s attention before,” he said, mentioning the successful complex they created in New York City, where one of the investors was good friends with the French billionaire. Nico suspected that he’d put in a good word for him, and maybe he had, but still nothing moved the needle in his favor. Besides an email from his lawyer saying he wasn’t interested in selling his property no matter the price, Desmorais had ignored his phone calls.

“Never,” he hissed.

Marriage and kids weren’t in his cards—hell, kids were physically impossible. He’d made sure of that. The house was the one goal he had, where he saw himself spending his downtime.

His phone pinged, and he noticed another call waiting. It was from his best friend Zaine, who spent his last few weeks in Senegal doing charity work with his fiancée Monique, before returning to California for their wedding. “Hey, I gotta go. Zaine’s on the other line. Talk to you soon.”

He heard another squeal from the other end of the line, and knew his brother wouldn’t be heartbroken to go back to whatever he was doing with Lily. Perverts.

Truth was, he loved Marco, but though he excelled at pretending, whenever he was with his brother his heart squeezed. All those times he hadn’t protected him from their father came to mind. Guilt over the truth he’d always kept hidden from Marco.

“Hey, man,” Zaine said in a rush, pulling him from his thoughts. “I just got a text from the security company saying someone broke into my house. They’re sending a car over, but Emma has been staying there. I can’t get a hold of her. Can you please check it out and call me as soon as possible?”

“Have you told anyone else?”

“No. Megan has a small kid, and my mom will go crazy. Can you check it for me and let me know?”

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