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Ah. The stupid man who had caused them trouble. Great. “Where’s your brother? We’ve been trying to find him.” Troy’s assistant had filled him in with the details. Miguel had been hired to collect money, and tried to do so from the wrong people—the O’Donnells, an Irish family that also owned several properties in the area. The patriarch of that family had been Troy’s father’s business partner back when they trafficked drugs, a sordid past they shared. When his father made enough money and walked away from the illegal part of the business, about twenty years prior, the O’Donnells became skeptical and untrusting—leaving his father to move to Los Angeles and start anew. This last situation with Miguel Nunes only furthered the divide.
“So you can kill him?”
Troy smoothed his hand over his tie. Certainly, if one of the goons from the O’Donnell family found him, Miguel Nunes would be dead. But Troy didn’t work that way, and thankfully, neither did his father. “I won’t kill him. But your brother messed with the wrong people. He also acted irresponsibly, mistook the office and beat the wrong guy without paying attention to the guidelines he’d been given on how to collect a debt. If he’s found, especially by the O’Donnells, I don’t see how this will end well for him.”
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, and her rich brown eyes glinted with concern. “Listen, if they want money, I’ll be happy to pay to get him out of this mess.”
“Unfortunately, they don’t need money. The O’Donnells prefer enforcing their, hmm, policies so others will learn.”
“This isn’t the fifties. There are laws, I can go to the police. And if I do, all of you will be in trouble,” she said, gesturing with her hand.
“You wouldn’t be here if that was your first choice, would you?” he asked. He had read Miguel’s file. Been arrested once on a DWI, then another time had a press charged against him dropped. Not an angel by any means. Then again if he were, he wouldn’t have taken the collector position. “Your brother probably told you what happened, and he knows if he goes to the cops, he’ll make his life even harder. And yours, too.”
She narrowed her eyes, and stepped forward. “Are you threatening me?”
“No.” Troy sighed. “Lara, your brother beat up the wrong person. They are now looking for him. And honestly, if I knew where he was, I’d tip them to get them off my back.”
Her eyes widened. Pretty eyes, too. A rich brown color with flecks of gold shimmering in their depths. “You’re disgusting.”
“Been called worse. My point is, they may rough up your brother, but if he comes forward, he can get out of this alive. But if not, they’ll see it as disrespect and go after your mother, or you,” he said, wishing he was wrong. He didn’t approve any of this eye-for-an-eye bullshit, but he had to warn her.
“My mother is away, and I can take care of myself.”
He scratched his chin, then canted his head toward her, studying her. She seemed smart and resourceful. He could get her to listen to him, and perhaps smooth out the situation for her brother. He wasn’t really planning on getting involved more than he had to, but maybe… maybe she had something he could use. “You need our protection,” he said in a firm tone.
Wasn’t a lie. If he protected her, she’d be safe. She could be as bad as her brother, but so far, he’d assumed she was innocent. He could make sure nothing happened to her… if he made the right move.
She barked a sarcastic laugh. “Who are you to tell me what I need?”
He kept watching her in silence. Something in his gut clenched, the sensation he had whenever he was that close to finding a solution. But, what for? He couldn’t care less about Miguel. His real conundrum was to regain his father’s trust, so situations like this would no longer happen.
She finally slumped in the seat across his desk, chin still raised, but less defiance in her eyes. “Listen, maybe we started off the wrong foot. I’m Miguel’s sister, and I only want to help. Even though I don’t agree with what he did, or with the illicit ways you work, for that matter. But I’m willing to do whatever I can to help my brother out of this situation. He’s made bad choices before, but this one tops the cake.”
Bad choices…
He grabbed a pen out of his sleek pen holder and played with it. Let it roll between his fingers, while he stared at her. His gut tightened harder, the sign the answer he’d been looking for was getting closer. How could it, though? How could she carry the solution for the conundrum involving his father, his brother and Michelle? “Not you, though. You’ve made good choices. Am I right?”
She crossed her legs. “Mostly good, yes. You can trust me. Ask anyone. I do everything for my family. I have a group of friends that are like sisters. I work very hard. Nothing has been handed to me.”
Nothing has been handed to me. He’d heard those words before. From his very own father. Then, realization dawned on him, as palpable as a piece of furniture. His father would love Lara—in the few minutes in her presence, Troy could see that. Lara was drop dead gorgeous, but she was also family oriented, smart, and had gumption. If he could convince his father that he and Lara were together, the whole story about sleeping with Michelle would fall into the background. His brother wouldn’t feel threatened by him, either. “How far are you willing to go to help your brother, Lara?”
She leaned forward, cocking her head to the side. She had a quality about her, something shamelessly straight-forward. “What do you want?”
Adrenaline rushed through him, and the words escaped his lips before he thought about them. “Marry me.”
2
Lara drew in a breath so sharp her breasts rose in her dress, straining against the fabric. Then, she exhaled and gave a stifled laugh. “Be serious.” Did this guy have no respect for her time or her brother’s life? Why else would he make such a stupid joke in such serious moment?
“I am.” A small smile curled his lips. She’d expected him to be ruthless and unkind, sure, but she had never expected Troy Gallucci to be this dangerously sexy. If he had been much older, with a pot belly and bald, she’d be less distracted. But his full head of brown hair, the gorgeous blue eyes and what she imagined were washboard abs under his designer label suit told a different story. The kind of story she’d read in bed, late at night. “I need for you to be my wife for about six months.”
She glanced around his impressive office, searching for cameras. Was this really happening? “I still don’t get it.”
Troy cocked his head to the side. “You don’t have to get it, just agree with it. Because of some business dealings, I’ll need someone to pretend she’s my wife for a few months. You move in with me, tolerate me in public outings, and I’ll speak to the O’Donnell that was hit and ask him to spare your brother.”
“Just like that?”
“No, not just like that—I’m sure they’ll ask for something in return. Probably a property they wanted to own for a while that we bought first. Won’t be cheap.”
