A Weekend of Misbehaving - Carmen Falcone Page 0,1

“I’m so happy you called. I was just telling Brent and the girls I had to call you.” She giggled.

Alice sucked in her breath. How long was it socially acceptable to listen to someone’s happy vacation stories before venting about your miserable day and the threat against your life? Worse, against your family? She mouthed a greeting to the doorman as he opened the door to the imposing lobby. “Really?”

“Guess what?” Georgia squealed. “Brent proposed to me last night! We’re getting married.”

“Wow,” Alice exclaimed, the genuine happiness for her friend wrestling against her need to share her craptastic day. Could she still tell Georgia about her speeding ticket, and how this crazy man threatened to kill her if she didn’t come up with twenty thousand dollars? “That’s amazing! Congratulations.” She managed to sound cheerful and got into the elevator, pressing in the password for access to the lavish penthouse.

“Thank you. You know who’s going to be my fabulous maid of honor, right?”

If I’m still alive. She clenched the phone in her hand, her knuckles whitening. “Listen, Georgia—”

“Nope. I won’t take no for an answer. Today is the happiest day of my life, and don’t you dare ruin it.” Georgia chuckled.

At that point, Alice didn’t need to glance at her reflection in the majestic mirror in the hallway leading to Lorenzo’s penthouse to know she was super pale. There was no way she would ruin her BFF’s happy day with her problems. She had to give her at least twenty-four hours, or wait a couple days for her to come back from vacation.

“I’ll be happy to be your maid of honor, but I need seventy-five percent decision power when it comes to my dress,” she said, the amateur stylist inside her screaming for some wiggle room.

“How about fifty-fifty?”

Happiest day of her life or not, Georgia was still a fierce negotiator. Alice bit back a smile—and never missed her friend like she did now. “Deal. Hey, can I call you back later? My phone is about to die.” And so am I, she added inwardly.

“Sure. Call me when you get a chance. Love you. Bye.”

Alice ended the call and was about to shove the cell in her pocket when it buzzed in her palm. She closed her eyes, took a long, deep breath, and opened them. A text.

I forgot to tell you. I was able to make an appointment for your sister with the new doctor. Love, Mom.

Seriously, why did her mother have to get a smartphone? Moments of complete peace of mind were so few and far between that going over to her boss’s place to feed the bird while he and his daughter were out of town was her pathetic little getaway.

She strolled into the ginormous living area. Ms. Suarez, the housekeeper, had cleaned before leaving on a well-deserved one-month vacation in Mexico.

The scent of the leather furniture mixed with hardwood flooring teased her nostrils. Another fragrance swirled in the air, one that was as tantalizing as the man who wore it. A hint of nutmeg and mandarin, with a dash of cucumber.

Lorenzo Baldi. A thrill of excitement coursed through her, and she quivered as if someone had poked her with a feather. His trademark scent clung to the curved chairs scattered in the open living area. Artwork worth millions hung on the walls.

Alice slid her fingers along a glass lamp, the texture under her touch rich and rough. Just like the man who had bought it. Twelve months she had worked for him, and during that time she had fantasized about all the wicked ways she could bring a smile to his face. The thought alone sent a rumble through her body.

Forget it. She would never ever witness Mr. B’s sexual skills. Why not? She went through the list in her brain, like she did every morning to keep her in her place. One: She was still recovering from a breakup. Did she really need to set herself up for failure again? Had she learned nothing from trying to turn her relationship with Joshua into something that it wasn’t? Two: Losing this gig was not an option, not with the amazing family health insurance he provided, which guaranteed her sister’s treatment for the most part. Three: He was Cara’s dad, and she loved the little nine-year-old too much to mess with her head.

Besides, Lorenzo never gave her a lingering glance or engaged in any kind of suggestive behavior. Nope. Nada. He was all business.

She would be better off stalking