It's a Fugly Life (Fugly #2)(7)

My mouth sort of flapped open and shut repeatedly.

He went on, “You’ve got a knack for connecting with people on a very genuine level. And you have a clear vision of what women want.”

“What’s that?”

He gave me a look.

Okay, I knew the answer to that: we didn’t want companies to make us feel ugly just so they could make a profit. We wanted these marketing monsters to stop infecting us with these unattainable images of perfection. We deserved to love ourselves. As for marketing, Max was the master of selling products on the basis of being good to one’s self. In other words, “Pamper yourself! You deserve it!” instead of, “Hey. You’re kind of ugly, but if you buy our product, you’ll feel better about it.” Nevertheless, Max’s proposal was insane.

“I hate to point out the obvious,” I said, “but you had a company that focused on real women. You sort of lost your credibility when you came out of the ugly-hater closet.”

Max’s eyes flicked with irritation.

“Sorry. But it’s true.”

He bobbed his head. “All right. Fine. But you’ve only proven why I need you. You’ll be the face of the company, and you’ll run it.”

Wow. Max wanted to play hardball with my heart. He knew running a big company like that—one with a mission to change an industry with a severe moral deficit—had been my lifelong dream. It was why I’d gone to work for him. I’d wanted to learn the ropes from the marketing master.

My mind quickly do-si-doed around several flowery visions, complete with frolicking chipmunks and multicolored butterflies, of the two of us working side by side, changing the world one tube of eco-friendly lipstick at a time.

Stop. No. You can’t go there. I couldn’t do that and be with Patricio. There was too much baggage and temptation with Max.

“It’s a kind thought, but I can’t accept.” I reached for the door handle to show him out.

“Why?”

The truth was too difficult to say, and frankly, all I wanted was to put him and me in the past. I needed to move on for sanity’s sake. “I don’t want to talk about this, Max.”

He sat down on my sofa and looked up at me with those angry hazel eyes. “Too bad.”

“Don’t do this. Please.”

“What?” He crossed his arms and leaned back.

“Don’t push me to emotionally crack open for you.”

“I’m asking you a simple question, Lily. Don’t make it into more.”

Damn him. So stubborn. I walked over, sat, and placed my hand over his. “You want me to beg again? I’m begging you. Please leave.”

He dipped his head, giving me a look. He wasn’t going to go until I gave him an answer.

“Fine. You want to hear the truth? It’s because we are toxic together.” Two uglies did not make a beautiful. We only made more ugly.

“Bullshit. You love me, Lily. I know you do. And if it’s not enough for you, I accept that. But I love you and won’t allow you to throw your life away on a business you don’t really want and a man who’s not your equal. At least this way, I’m saving you from one of those, and when you wake up with regards to Patricio, I won’t be far.”

“Goddammit.” I leaned forward and pushed the heels of my palms against my eyelids, forgetting I’d put on heavy eye makeup to look extra nice for Patricio this evening. I’d even taken the time to curl my long blonde hair into sexy ringlets. A waste of time if Max didn’t leave before Patricio arrived because he’d only focus on his nemesis being in my apartment. “You’re impossible.”

“Don’t forget handsome as f*ck, wealthy, and an excellent judge of character.”

“You forgot arrogant.”

“That’s implied. Yes or no, Lily?”

Business partners? He was mad. “The answer is no. I’m happy with my little store, and it helps women in need.”

Max let out a haughty laugh. “You and I both know you’re capable of so much more, and if you take my offer, you’d find yourself in a position to help more than a few woman-owned micro-businesses.”

Dammit. Dammit. Dammit! Max was such a good salesman. He always knew the angles.

“I see you still have the touch, selling ice to the Eskimos,” I said.

His eyes narrowed. “And I see you’re still shrinking back, Lily. From day one I was honest with you—you talk, but you don’t walk.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“You may have had surgery to make your face beautiful, but you’re still walking around like you don’t deserve more in life.”

“Why would you say that?” I snapped. It hurt. And it wasn’t true. Okay, maybe it was, but everyone—everyone—had challenges to deal with. My fugly voice was mine, and I was dealing with it.

“You,” he snarled, “are the smartest, most f*cking tenacious woman I’ve ever met. You have gone after everything you’ve ever wanted with a ferocious hunger.”

“Which is what I’m doing right now.”

“A f*cking boutique with crafty handmade clothes and shitty little humanitarian trinkets? And then there’s the bonus of it sounding like your monthly bill. Exactly what were you thinking when you named it Lily’s Pad?”