It's a Fugly Life (Fugly #2)(17)

“Sorry. Doesn’t work like that. The big-brother handbook dictates I must intervene.”

Gah. What an ass. “Stop. Okay? You don’t see me running around threatening to dismember your exes or calling them woman-dicks.” The opposite of a man-cunt, of course.

He crossed his beefy arms over his chest. “That’s because you’re too busy trying to avoid confrontation by hiding in my apartment.”

Ughhh… “I needed a quiet place to think, and I can’t do it here with those dipshits outsi—” A loud knock on the door broke my concentration. “Dammit. Why can’t they leave me alone?”

“Let me deal with them.” John went to the front door and yanked it open, but it wasn’t the tabloid vultures.

Max. I gasped, but why wasn’t I surprised? He’d unexpectedly shown up three times in the last twenty-four hours.

Blocking the door, John scowled up at Max, who looked even angrier than John. “What the f*ck do you want?”

Max peered down at John, and I saw it. That look. It was the same one Max gave me the first time we’d met when I’d interviewed for a sales position at his company. Disgust masked as indifference. Max had treated me so badly that I’d literally stormed after the fleeing prick to tell him a thing or two about why he should never, ever, ever dismiss me. I hadn’t known at the time he suffered from a phobia he’d been determined to conquer, but what did that matter? At this very moment, Max was looking at John’s thin legs with revulsion.

Something inside me snapped like a tightly wound piano string. It was one thing for me to be subjected to Max’s affliction, but like hell would I ever—ever!—let Max hurt my brother.

Okay. Fine. I’m a fifteen on the protective scale.

As I opened my mouth to tell Max he should take a flying f*ck out of my life, John leaned forward and punched Max in the dick.

Max doubled over with a loud groan, and John took another swing at his face, sending Max flying back.

“Jesus, John!” What the hell was the matter with the men in my life? They’d all gone completely caveman?

The news crews took no time surrounding Max and snapping pictures or videos.

“You ever hit my sister again, they won’t find the body!” John yelled and slammed the door.

Hit me? What in the world? “John! What the hell is wrong with you?” I yelled.

“You think I don’t know, Lily. I watch TMZ.”

He did? Since when?

I rushed to the door to see if Max was all right, but John blocked me.

“Move!” I yelled.

“Hell no.” He gripped the top of his wheels tightly. I had zero chance of opening that door without fistfighting my big-ass brother. I could only reason with him.

“John, he didn’t hit me.”

“Then what happened to your arm, Lily?” His eyes zeroed right in on the black, blue, and purple mark on my elbow.

“I fell.”

“Bullshit.”

“Come on. Who hits a woman in her elbow?”

John took a moment, likely seeing the light. “Then how did you get that bruise?”

“Max and Patricio were fighting and knocked me over. But no one hit me.” Damn those paparazzi and their constant lies.

John shook his head in disgust.

“Hey! If you want to be mad at anyone, be mad at Patricio for cheating on me.”

“Patricio? The guy who proposed to you at dinner last week?”

I’d brought Patricio to my parents’ house for the first time about a week ago. That was when he’d asked for my hand—a complete shock to everyone. My parents liked him well enough—or perhaps they were a bit starstruck?—but I’d also recognized the slight flicker of disappointment in their eyes. They probably liked Max more. He’d taken care of things—doctors, bills, legal action—after my accident and had been the only person who’d assured them I’d be okay when they were losing their grief-riddled minds. Saying yes to Patricio would be like closing the door on their hopes that Max and I might reconcile someday. Anyway, it was a little awkward being put on the engagement spot like that, but I’d had to do the right thing and tell him the truth: I would think about it. Patricio, being the actor he was, took it like a gentleman.

I gave John a nod. “Patricio f*cked some actre—”

The door buzzed, and my eyes went wide. Dammit. It’s probably Max coming to seek revenge or something really unspectacular.

“Move!” I instructed John.

John reluctantly rolled out of the way.

I opened the door and stumbled back, nearly falling on my ass as someone pushed inside my apartment. For a split second, I thought it was Max trying to get at John, but it wasn’t.

“Patricio?” I gasped his name.

He stormed into my living room with Max on his heels, their bickering drowning out the screaming press crammed into my doorway.

John slammed the door shut, and I took a seat at my small dining room table in the corner, now feeling completely exhausted.

On the opposite end of the spectrum were Max and Patricio, who looked like two uncastrated Rottweilers, spittle flying every which way as they screamed with their noses an inch apart.

“Fuck you! You prick!” Max raged. “I should’ve done the time and ended you when I had the chance.”