Scorned Love: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (Scorned Fate)

I waited until Ivy and Xander disappeared into the Lafayette building before I pulled back into traffic. I directed the Maserati into Crosby and headed back to Midtown. Ivy Wu irritated the fuck out of me. I spotted her and Xander immediately when we entered the bar. She downed her martini so quickly, I inwardly winced. Ivy and alcohol weren’t friends.

And I was right. She looked damned pathetic when the alcohol started to affect her. It took all my effort not to throttle her. There was nothing I despised more than people who forced themselves to be someone they were not. And that was probably why she brought out the asshole in me because Bianca thought she walked on water.

My sister’s voice broke through my thoughts. “I’m staying at The Grindhouse tonight. Don’t forget to drop me off.”

The Grindhouse was a De Lucci-owned property in Hell’s Kitchen. It was the name of the boxing gym, and it was also the name of the building.

“I’ll be crashing there too. We’re dropping Olga at her hotel first.” My primary residence was an apartment on the Upper East Side, but lately, I’d been wanting to start my days in the boxing gym.

“Darling, I thought you were spending the night?” Olga’s petulant tone said beside me. She’d noticed my lukewarm reception earlier and had been trying so hard to ingratiate herself with me like we were still a couple. We weren’t. We broke up two years ago, and though I’d had passing girlfriends since then, Olga remained a friend. And I wouldn’t have been at that blasted opera if I wasn’t keeping tabs on Bianca.

I didn’t want her wandering off to Harlem to see Alessandro “Sandro” Rossi. My sister told me she was over the Rossi crime family enforcer, but their relationship confused the fuck out of me. Sandro assured me they were just friends. They’d better be. He had too much darkness in him that would suck my sister into a pit of misery. I clenched my fingers around the steering wheel. I’d be damned before I let that happen.

Olga’s hand touched my forearm. I forced myself not to recoil and smiled briefly at her. “You need your rest.”

“And I was hoping you would help me relax. I love it when you leave me boneless.”

I dominated and fucked hard, but that wasn’t something I wanted implied in front of my sister.

As if on cue, Bianca stifled a gagging noise behind me. I suppressed the urge to sigh and, instead, moved my arm, so Olga’s hand fell away. She finally took the hint, leaned against the window, and stared outside.

It was a relief to see the driveway of her hotel. I pulled off to the side and punched the blinkers. “I’ll walk you in.”

Olga didn’t wait for me to come around and get her. She was pissed all right, and I simply didn’t care. The plunging neckline of her dress showed off an abundance of cleavage and failed to make me hard. And now as I approached her from behind, even the way her ass stretched her dress didn’t even elicit a rise in my dick. Should I be worried? I was twenty-seven, too young to be in a sex fugue. Admittedly, I had a lot on my mind.

I put my hand on the small of her back. On our way into the hotel, the paparazzi swarmed. Olga usually liked the attention, but I must have pissed her off because she ignored them.

“Are you guys back together?” one of them asked.

Olga flung me a look. “Ask him.”

I put an arm around her while holding out the other arm to ward off the pushier photographers. Hotel security got them under control and prevented them from following us into the hotel. When we reached the elevators, Olga turned to me, grabbed my jaw, and pulled my head down.

She kissed me feverishly. I allowed myself to kiss her back, but there was no fire in me. I was just done with her. She must have sensed my lack of response and shoved me away, stepping back dramatically. “Are you coming to my show tomorrow?”

“I probably shouldn’t.” I didn’t want to lead her on anymore. Clearly, she was getting more serious.

“You think because I’m thirty-four, I’m wanting marriage. I’m not. I don’t think I’ll ever want to get married, but I’m tired of the merry-go-round. I want steady companionship more than anything else.”

“We’re just in different places in our lives.” It was interesting she brought up her age. She was seven years older than me. Another preference of mine when it came to my partners. It bothered Mom in the beginning, especially when I had dated someone ten years my senior the summer I turned twenty-three.

“You’re busy being a Wall Street titan.” Her mouth curved in a semblance of a sneer.

“Good luck tomorrow.” I planted a kiss on her cheek. “You’re going to blow everyone away.”

Her elevator arrived, and she provided the last shot with her signature sultry smirk. “Funny, you’re the only one I want to blow.”

I let her elevator doors close on me. I exhaled and gave a shake of my head.

When I returned to the Maserati, Bianca had transferred to the seat vacated by Olga.

“You could have stayed. I could have taken the subway or an Uber.”

“In that dress?” I arched a brow. She had paired the bustier with a ruffled skirt that brushed her ankles.

I gunned the SUV and pulled away from the curb. It was just a quick hop to The Grindhouse.

“She could have had any man she wanted and she chose you.”

“Ouch, Smurfette, you make it sound like I don’t have the qualities to escort someone as beautiful as Olga.”

“She’s really pretty. She’s the closest to Monica Bellucci among all the women you’ve dated.”

“Maybe I’m over that phase.”

“You serious?” she gushed. “Hallelujah!”

“Smartass. I may have a type, but I can be flexible.” I turned onto Ninth Street. “And you shouldn’t worry about Olga. I may be her first choice, but I won’t be the last.” She probably had another lover on speed dial.

“You seem to date only prima donnas. How is it different from being shallow?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You once told me Ivy was shallow.”

“Oh…did I say that in front of her?” Man, the poor woman. I should stay away from her. There was nothing special about her except her ability to annoy me.

“You implied it in front of her. You spelled it out to me when we were alone.”

I pinched between my brows as the Maserati stalled at a stoplight. “Being shallow is different from being self-absorbed. Olga is self-absorbed, but she has the right to be. She’s an artist of immense talent. People pay big bucks to see her. Being self-absorbed is part of her attraction.”

“Ivy is the social media face of their company—a multimillion-dollar business I might add,” Bianca said. “And her fans are interested in her trials and tribulations of—”

“Of a person who grew up with a silver spoon in her mouth. Please, that keto coffee was a sham.” I remembered the series she did on that. “She wasn’t truthful about her results.”

“So? She admitted it in the end how hard it was to remain on keto because her best friend married into a family who owned one of the best bakery-cafés in town. How’s that for promoting Renz’s business? She helped them get the word out.”

I said nothing. I forgot about that. I didn’t pay attention to social media and its effects, not with the business I dealt in.

“Look, I just don’t want you thinking you need to be like her to be successful. Your hero worship of everything she gets into is concerning.” It fueled my animosity and fed on my desire to make Ivy as unattractive as possible as a role model.

“She’s very relatable. One minute it’s like she has her shit together and the next everything is falling apart. She’s showing that even with all the money, her life is not perfect.”

“Dunno. That sounds condescending to me. It’s like woe is me. Look at me. I live in an expensive loft you all can never fathom to own in this lifetime, but I have the same problems as the common person.”

I could feel Bianca roll her eyes. “Why do you think these celebrities have massive followings on social media?” she pointed out. “People are interested in their drama. That despite their successes, they have the same issues as the everyday person. Sometimes it’s even worse. How many child stars have we seen implode?”

“Look. I’m not arguing this with you any longer. I’m just coming to this from a different perspective, okay? Just be your own person,” I told her. I shot her a brief glance. “And you know I speak from experience.”

“I know, deartháir,” Bianca said, and when she used the Gaelic word for brother in that affectionate voice, it usually meant she got my point. Her idolization of Ivy bothered me not only because I was an overprotective brother, but I’d seen the damage of forcing oneself to fit a mold. Damage that could become fatal.

The Maserati made the turn into The Grindhouse and parked. As we got out of the SUV, I stared up the length of the building and noted that all the lights were off. It was one a.m. Too early to come home from a night in Manhattan, but too late to bother our brother Renz and his wife, Liz. Jabbin’ Java, their café-bakery, was always busy no matter what day of the week it was. They were hands-on with the running of the business. For me, it had been a long-ass week of meetings and business deals. Sleeping until noon, waking up with a round of boxing, and hanging out at the coffee shop to visit with my brother were all that I planned to do tomorrow.

“Don’t bother Renz and Liz,” I told my sister. “Just stay with me at the apartment.”

“That was my plan to begin with,” Bianca replied. “I’ve got my emergency stash up there.”

The apartment was on the third floor. It was a place our family frequently used when we wanted to get together with Renz and Liz. At times, it was used as a safehouse. My core family represented the legitimate side of the De Luccis. It didn’t mean we didn’t get involved in the underworld stuff and we used the basement of the building to run our joint operations.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Bianca cut through my musings.

“Sleeping.”

We entered the building and went up the stairs.

“I’m going to Brooklyn.”

“What part?”

“You know what part…Ivy’s—”

I was already shaking my head. “We don’t control that area and it’ll only cause friction if a De Lucci is seen there.” That was one of the reasons why I didn’t want my sister entangled with fashion week. “Aren’t they moving the fittings and media prep to their boutique?”

“Well, I don’t know yet. Should I ask Ivy?”

“It’s late. Ask her tomorrow. She’s probably crashed in her own bed by now.” I led us into the apartment and switched on the lights. The unit wasn’t a loft-type open space. It was divided into three bedrooms, a study, and a living room that was open to the kitchen.

“I’m turning in; I’m beat.”

After grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, I left my sister in the kitchen. I could feel the energy bouncing off her and needed to get away and out of this monkey suit. I’d already removed the bow tie before we hit the bar, but the tux seemed like a tighter fit than normal. Maybe I should lay off those upper-body exercises. I was a gym rat, but I’d missed the gym more times than I wanted. With Matteo and Sera on their honeymoon, I had to carry his workload, not to mention big-brother duties. It was more fun being a second son and letting Matteo be the bossy older brother. But he was all about Sera now, and Bianca had taken notice. She wasn’t traveling for the summer and seemed hell-bent on spending it in Manhattan. That sister of mine was sneaky, and I was keeping an eye on her until she was back at Harvard.

I finished undressing, took a quick shower, and fell into bed.