9. Fallon
Fallon
I’m so tired I could drop dead in my now-empty salon chair and sleep even with all the conversation and blow-dryers around me. Despite the fact the hotel bed was softer than what I imagine clouds feel like, I barely slept a wink. All because of Luciano Ricci.
There’s no way in hell I would have let him stay in the room if he had tried, but there was a sadness inside me that he actually left.
Almost an empty feeling. I’m never going to see him again.
Because, while he’s definitely a controlling, unreasonable man, he was also real.
He didn’t pretend to be friendly. He didn’t try to convince me he’s a good man. And real is hard to find in this life.
I check my phone for any messages and then rush to the back room to grab an energy drink from the fridge while I have a short break until my next client comes.
Thankfully, I’ve been nonstop busy all day, so my mind hasn’t been able to wander too often about everything that’s transpired within the last twenty-four hours.
Just as I take my first sip, my coworker Sandra walks in and smiles at me. “Hey, girl! How’s your day going?”
“Oh my gosh, I’ve been needing to talk to you,” I say, pushing myself off the edge of the counter in the small kitchenette. “I will take the room you have to rent.”
Sandra spins around, ignoring the food she just placed in the microwave. “What? What happened with Joshua? I thought you were so happy.”
Was I?
I’m not actually sure about that. I think I felt happy in the very beginning, when I decided to give Joshua a chance and moved in with him.
But the more I think about our relationship and how blind I’ve been to him this whole time, the more I think I’ve been in denial.
Maybe I put on a happy facade so I would believe it myself, instead of facing the reality that we were never a good match to begin with.
He likes material things, lobster, and country clubs.
I like animals, art, and movies that have “dumb” humor.
He always hated it when I chose what we were going to watch.
He insisted our brain cells were dying because of how stupid the movies were.
I never said anything, but it hurt when he’d say things like that because I sensed it was his way of saying he didn’t think I was smart.
I should have seen our differences from the beginning and known we were worlds apart.
Hell, even though Luciano Ricci is probably richer than most people in this city, he and I have more in common than me and Joshua ever did.
“I caught him fucking his secretary.”
Sandra gasps so loud I’d be surprised if the entire salon didn’t hear it. “What? Are you serious? The asshole!”
Warmth spreads through me as I laugh, even though there is nothing funny about this situation. I was Sandra’s roommate for three years before I moved in with Joshua. Though I can’t say we’re close friends, she’s always been kind and friendly. We enjoy working together, too.
“Shh,” I say, holding my index finger to my lips. Gossip spreads through salons like wildfire. I’m not close with any of the other women here so I don’t really want them knowing all my business.
“Sorry,” she apologizes, covering her mouth like that will keep her quiet. “God, I can’t believe it. What an asshole.”
Nodding, I huff because yeah, he’s definitely that. I have a lot of other words to describe Joshua, too, but now isn’t the time.
“I know. I can’t believe I got fooled by him.” My words come out bitter. I haven’t cried. Haven’t felt the need. I’m not sure whether it’s a good or bad thing, though.
Sandra sighs and shakes her head. “Shit, I already rented the room out, Fallon. They already moved in.”
Doom looms over me as I stare at her silently.
I don’t have a backup plan. It was a miracle, or at least I thought it was, that I remembered her mentioning that she was looking for a new tenant because one of her current ones had moved out of state.
The back of my eyes burn for the first time since I discovered Joshua cheating on me. I haven’t cried at all. Haven’t felt the need. Not over him. But this makes me want to sob.
“I’m so sorry, Fallon. You know I’d love to have you as a roommate again. If I had known this was going to happen, I would have held the space for you.” Sandra looks like she could burst into tears at any second, too.
“Fallon, your next client is here,” one of the stylists tells me as she passes the doorway on her way toward the stock room.
“It’s okay.” I offer Sandra the best reassuring smile I can at the moment. “No worries.”
She hugs me, and a lump forms in my throat at her kindness. I have very few people in my life who I trust, and Sandra is one of them. Maybe it’s because she’s older and has always been somewhat maternal to me, in a way I never got and always wanted.
I give her a quick squeeze before I turn to leave. “I’ll talk to you later.”
Keeping my head down, I use my fingers to dab at the corners of my eyes as I walk out to the salon floor.
When I finally look up to smile and greet my client, I go still, because in my chair, staring at me in the full-length mirror, is a set of ice-blue eyes I thought I’ve never see in person again.
“Luciano,” I say, though it comes out barely a whisper.
“I’d prefer to hear you call me something else, but Luciano is acceptable for now, princess.” He smirks, his expression so cocky yet so handsome.
Wow, he’s even better looking in the daylight. And the clean, crisp slacks and white button-down dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up only add to the view. His forearms are covered in tattoos, going down to his fingertips. He’s beautiful and daunting all wrapped into one package.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, frozen in my spot.
“I’m here to get a haircut.”
My gaze moves over his dark, slicked-back hair that looks like it was recently cut, based on how short the edges of his fade are. “You don’t need one.”
The words come out without a thought, but honestly, there is nothing I could do to make him look any better.
Luciano stares at me intently as I stand behind the chair, my head barely taller than his. “Why did you look upset when you came out here? Did that motherfucker from last night bother you?”
As much as I hate to admit it, my heart starts to race as the protectiveness of his comment lingers in the air.
Luciano is a dangerous man, but for some strange reason, instead of being afraid of him, I feel safe when he’s around.
Which is something that makes me uncomfortable because rarely does anyone make me feel safe.
It’s why I stopped letting people get too close to me a long time ago.
In the mirror, I notice several of the stylists eyeing Luciano with interest. My skin prickles as I glare at them in the mirror, because why are they looking at him? They need to mind their own business.
“No, he hasn’t contacted me.” I finally turn my attention back to him, irritation spreading through me all of a sudden.
I have more important things to be doing right now, like finding a cheap place to live instead of getting jealous over this man who is basically a stranger.
“I’m fine. Again, what are you doing here?
I know you didn’t come in for a haircut. ”
That cocky smile returns, and suddenly my knees aren’t as sturdy as I thought they were because it’s taking way too much energy to keep myself upright.
“It hurts my feelings that you’re not more excited to see me, princess.”
Princess.
I’m no princess.
I’m from the gutter.
But when he calls me that name, I almost believe I am one for a second.
“I’m just surprised to see you,” I reply. “Would you like a hot shave?”
It’s the least I can do, considering I totaled his expensive SUV. And from the looks of Luciano’s face, he didn’t shave this morning. Which honestly only adds to his sexiness. The thought of it rubbing against my inner thighs makes me shift my hips to try to alleviate the pressure growing there.
“Whatever you want to do to me,” he says.
Our eyes meet in the mirror, and it’s as if time stands still for several seconds, my heart pounding against my ribs. What does he mean by that? There’s no way he’s flirting; I’m pretty sure men like Luciano Ricci don’t flirt. And there’s not a chance in hell this man is attracted to me.
Rather than saying something that might piss him off, I let out a dramatic sigh and start gathering the supplies to do a hot shave.
“You going to answer my question, or do I need to repeat it?” he asks while he tracks my every movement. It’s unnerving that every time I look at him, his gaze is already on me.
“What question?” I ask without thinking because it’s hard to remember anything when he’s in such close proximity to me.
As I pass the chair, he grabs hold of my wrist, his tattooed fingers closing tightly around it. “Why did you look upset when you came out here?”
I turn toward him and nibble on my lower lip for several seconds. Why does he care? And why is he even here? Men like Luciano don’t do things just because. There’s motive behind his actions.
“The woman I was hoping to move in with, who I lived with before, doesn’t have a room available like I thought she did. I just found out,” I tell him and move to step out of his grasp.
I start getting ready for his shave. When I reach around his shoulders to undo the top button of his shirt so I don’t get any water or products on it, my eyes fall to the small amount of tattooed chest I can see.
Damn. His body is covered in intricate art that somehow looks classy and ominous at the same time.
“What are your other options?” he asks. “Where else can you live?”
Part of me wants to ask why he cares. It’s not his business, and being asked so many questions is usually something I don’t like, but it’s not bothering me like it would if it were someone else.
Keeping my focus on my task of covering him in a protective cape, I button it tight around his neck. “That’s something I’m going to have to figure out, I guess.”