Page 22 of Love Unwritten
She frowns. “I know things suck right now, but you’re better off without Rafael anyway. He always took you and your time for granted.” The dislike is written clear as day across her freckled face. Her pale cheeks, which were already pink from her morning run, darken into a deeper shade of red as she hesitantly tucks a strand of reddish-orange hair behind her ear.
Since we became best friends in middle school, I’ve never known Willow to hold back from sharing her opinion, so I’m surprised to say the least. “You never said anything before.”
“Because since everything went down with Ava and the record label, you seemed genuinely happy for the first time in months. You had a purpose. Nico was good for you and vice versa, even if his father is too stubborn to see that.”
Unlike Willow, who didn’t miss a beat after Ava fired her because she chose to believe my story about what happened with Darius, I struggled. Hard.
I still feel guilty about Willow losing her dream job as Ava’s public relations manager because of me, even if she’s repeatedly told me she would have left anyway because our friendship came first.
Wherever you go, I go, she had said before packing up her belongings and moving back to Lake Wisteria with me.
The dull throb in my chest transforms into a strong ache.
Willow continues when I don’t speak up. “I don’t care if Rafael was right to fire you. He was wrong for not letting you say goodbye at least.”
“It’s not like I gave him a chance to change his mind before running away.”
“He doesn’t deserve you.” Willow gives my clenched hand a pat. “As it is, I’m surprised you put up with him for this long.”
“He wasn’t that bad.”
“But was he good?”
Her question stumps me. In some ways, Rafael was decent to me. He gave me a job despite my inexperience with nannying and paid me well for my work, although I struggled with his grumpy attitude.
I was willing to put up with a lot from him solely because I love Nico and the financial freedom I gained thanks to Rafael’s generous paychecks. With my monthly salary and a free place to stay, I was saving most of my money in hopes of suing Ava one day.
First, I needed to get over my little issue with confrontation and find a copyright lawyer who didn’t run in the opposite direction as soon as I mentioned her name.
A knock on the front door startles me. “Who’s that?”
“Lorenzo.”
“He comes to your house now? Are you two friends or something?”
Willow recently took Lorenzo Vittori, the town’s newest billionaire resident, on as a PR client. The decision was an easy one, especially since my best friend loves a good challenge, and Lorenzo was the biggest one yet, with his goal to replace Lake Wisteria’s Mayor Ludlow, whose family has been here since the town was founded in the 1800s.
Unlike the Ludlows, who raise their kids on silver spoons and Madame Virginia’s Rules of Etiquette, the Vittori name is synonymous with sinning, debauchery, and a billion-dollar international gambling empire. With luxury casino hotels located all over the world, the Vittori family specializes in all seven deadly sins.
To say he isn’t mayor material is a gross understatement, but unlike me, Willow doesn’t back down from adversity.
She laughs. “No, we’re not really friends, but he sure could use one.”
“Then what is he doing here this early?”
“I don’t want anyone overhearing us talk about Operation Fake Fiancée. You know how quickly word spreads in this town.”
My brows hike toward my hairline. “So getting him a fake fiancée is a whole operation now?”
“Yes, but it’s still in the planning phase, so don’t worry.”
“Why would I be worried?”
“Because the moment Lorenzo hears you’re unemployed and looking for a job, he might try to hire you, but as your best friend, I must insist that you say no. He’s not marriage material. Take my word for it.”
Lorenzo beats against the front door until Willow lets him inside. They share a few hushed whispers in the entryway before my best friend strolls back into the kitchen with Lorenzo trailing behind her.
The temperature in the room drops a few degrees, and a chill rushes down my spine when Lorenzo and I lock eyes. As much as I appreciate Willow’s warning, there is no way in hell I would ever agree to fake-marry someone who elicits that kind of response from me, no matter how attractive or rich they are.