The Sexy Enemy: A Fake Relationship Romance (Italian Nights Series Book 3)

8. Alessandro

Ring. Ring. Ring.

My phone ringing wakes me. “Hello,” I say, answering it groggily.

“She fucking played you, bro. It’s a masterpiece,” Nico says. What is he talking about? “Have you read it yet?” he asks.

I look at my phone before answering him. “It’s five in the morning, I haven’t even seen the fucking sun,” I tell him.

“Check your emails. Match point to Miss Fiorenzo. She just cut your balls off.” He chuckles.

What the …? I pull my phone from my ear and open the email Nico is talking about, and there in bold letters …

How I fell in love with the enemy.

It’s an interview that Natalia did for one of Nico’s magazines, talking about how we have been secretly dating, hiding it from our disapproving families, and that we got carried away in Vegas and decided to get married because we were sick of hiding our love.

“You’re like the real-life Romeo and Juliet. Guess she just married the wrong brother,” Nico says as he cracks up laughing. It’s too early for this shit. “This girl is crazy. I like it.”

“You’re supposed to be on my side, asshole,” I remind him.

“She called your bluff.” He chuckles.

“Fuck you. Your magazine posted this bullshit. Can you delete it or something, make it disappear? What the hell was Francesca thinking posting this?”

“She was thinking this is going to sell a hell of a lot of magazines, which is what I pay her to do.” He laughs.

“At my expense.”

“I mean, you did say if her family didn’t pull out of the talks then you would release the footage,” Nico reminds me.

“Yeah, showing her as a party girl, drunk, marrying her family’s enemy in Vegas for fun. Not this love bullshit.”

Nico laughs. “She beat you to the punch and rewrote history. Now everyone thinks the two of you are in love. Fuck, you’re never getting laid again. They are all going to think you’re married, and the paparazzi will salivate if they find you cheating, and then you’re going to look like the bad guy. It’s brilliant. No matter what you do, you’re fucked.”

“I’m well aware of how fucked I am.”

“I mean, if the roles were reversed, you’d do the same,” he says.

He’s right, but I’m not in the fucking mood for it though. “Thanks for the heads-up. My father is going to lose his fucking mind over this.”

“Shit, yeah, well, good luck with that.” And seconds later, he’s hung up on me. Dick.

I continue to scroll through the article. Where the fuck did she get these photos of us together? We never went on holidays together, but these photos look like we did. What the hell is she playing at?

“Fuck!” I scream as I hurl my phone across the room.

An alert popsup on my security screen, and I see my father storming toward my front door.

Fuck.

I open it, anticipating his angry knock. It takes him a moment to realize I’ve opened the door, and the next thing I know, his fist flashes in my face and I’m flat on the floor, blood pouring out of my split lip.

“You fucking useless piece of shit,” he sneers over me. “Marrying a Fiorenzo. You disgust me.” He continues to yell as he grabs the vase by the front door and hurls it across the room. It shatters as it hits the tiled floor. I quickly jump back up and get myself into a defensive stance, not knowing what he’s going to do next. “I wish it was you who was dead, not him,” he screams as he grabs a candlestick and hurls it at me, the glass hitting my arm before bouncing off to smash on the floor.

“Get the fuck out of my home,” I scream at him. “You don’t get to talk to me like that.”

“You fucked over your family. Have you been working for the enemy all this time? Is this why we keep losing all these deals? Because you’re a fucking traitor?” he spits at me.

“I’m not a fucking traitor. It’s not real. I don’t love her. We aren’t in a secret relationship,” I scream at him.

He stills, trying to process what I’m saying. “So, you’re not married?”

My shoulders sag. “Oh, we’re married, that’s real.”

“What the hell were you thinking? No pussy, especially Fiorenzo pussy is worth this headache,” he says, waving his hands in the air.

I bristle at his words. “Natalia is retaliating because I told her I wouldn’t annul the marriage unless they backed away from the Emerald deal.”

My father’s eyes widen at my comment. Then he bursts out laughing. “Fucking brilliant.”

I shake my head. “Get out.”

He stills again. “What did you say?”

“I said get out.”

“You can’t talk to me like that,” he argues.

“I can and I will. You don’t get to come into my home, hit me, throw my things, and insult me.”

“How the hell did you expect me to act? You married a Fiorenzo and then there is a ten-page spread on how much you fucking love each other. And all I can think about is us losing the Emerald deal because of it,” he explains.

“You could have waited oh, maybe five fucking minutes for me to explain to you what was going on. But no, you had to jump the gun and use your fists and your tongue to put me down,” I tell him.

“Please, if your feelings have been hurt by my words, then you’re not as strong as I think you are,” he bites back.

“Get out. I’ll be in touch tomorrow,” I say as I shuffle him out my door.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me,” he blusters.

“When I know more, I’ll be in touch,” I say, then slam the door behind him.

Fuck. I wipe the blood from my lip. I head into the bathroom and wash my face, then pat my lip dry. This isn’t going to look good after the announcement.

My phone rings again, and against my better judgment, I pick it up. “Are you fucking serious? You’re in love?” Romeo asks.

My shoulders sag. “Not you, too. Come on, she made it up.”

“She made it up?” Romeo repeats.

“Dad was just here, gave me a split lip, and told me he wished I was dead,” I say, changing the subject.

“What the fuck, man? Do you need me to come back and help you?” he asks.

“It’s all good, just, it’s been a morning, not how I thought it would go.”

“I can imagine. So, you had no idea this was the story?” he asks.

“No. Apparently, she had a meeting with Francesca, and they’ve concocted this story, making us out to modern-day versions of Romeo and Juliet.”

“I hope this doesn’t turn out the same way.” Romeo chuckles.

Not funny. I am not in the mood for this. “What the hell am I supposed to do with the world thinking we are star-struck lovers?” I ask.

“Hell knows. I’m going to assume they didn’t drop out of the race for Emerald Hotels?”

“No.”

“Guess you’re going to have to come up with another plan then.”