It's a Fugly Life (Fugly #2)(9)

Max stepped forward, reached out his hand, and traced the scar along my forehead. I knew what he was doing. He wanted to desensitize himself. Or maybe show me how far he’d come. Once upon a time, we couldn’t be in the same room without him breaking into a sweat.

I watched with fascination while his perfect face—straight nose, full lips, and angular jaw—focused on me. I breathed in his expensive cologne and savored the memories it brought—him holding me close, making love to me, breathing against my neck. Max had been my first kiss, my first everything.

Caught up in the sensual memories, I closed my eyes, wishing that things had turned out differently. Why had I not believed in us? Okay, dammit. I knew why.

Suddenly, I felt his lips on mine. Soft, hot, and sensual. He felt so good, so right. Gentle and strong all rolled into one.

“Lily!” Patricio’s voice roared.

I pushed back from Max and turned my head. Patricio stood ten feet away. Rage sizzled in his bright green eyes.

“You f*cking bastard.” Patricio zeroed in on Max and ran straight for him.





Well, that’s something I never thought I’d see. With my mouth hanging open, I watched two completely hot men tumble around on the sidewalk in front of my first-floor apartment, trying to beat the crap out of each other.

Yes, I did understand that the proper reaction would be to panic or feel angered by their immature behavior, but I wasn’t just anyone. Remember, I was once the girl no one looked at except with pity or disgust. Yes, I compensated with my personality and still had lots of girlfriends, but getting male attention felt alien, and this was no exception. Italy’s hottest actor and America’s sexiest bachelor were fighting over me.

This is definitely strange. And so amazingly hot. Wait. Am I evil for thinking that?

Max, a slightly larger man, rolled over Patricio and cocked his fist. Patricio threw up his arm and crosscut Max in the jaw, sending him back. Patricio took advantage of the opportunity and scrambled forward, straddling Max.

As Patricio pulled back his fist, aiming for Max’s perfect nose, I screamed, “No!”

Max thrust his knee upward and launched Patricio forward. Patricio’s fist pummeled the cement below.

Ouch. That had to hurt.

Patricio wailed.

Yep. It hurt.

“You f*cking *. You don’t deserve her!” Max twisted his body and threw Patricio down, landing a punch straight on Patricio’s cheekbone.

Blood began running from a cut on Patricio’s face, which immediately jolted me out of my shock and into the worst panic ever. They really wanted to kill each other.

“Okay. That’s enough!” I barked, doing an awkward little waving action with my hands. “Stop. Both of you.”

Max and Patricio rolled and grunted, each one trying to get the upper hand.

“Stop! Goddammit!” I tried to grab for an arm to pull them apart, but they were like two feral cats, moving so fast I couldn’t see who was who or what was what.

From the corner of my eye, I caught a neighbor taking pictures through her window. And goodie. We’ll be getting tabloid coverage.

Flustered, I stared down at the two beautiful jackasses and gushed out a breath. Imbeciles. Fighting resolved nothing.

“Stop!” I yelled. “That’s it! That’s f*cking it.”

Their tangled limbs and grunting bodies rolled toward me, knocking me to the ground. I fell back, landing with a hard thump on the cement, and hit my elbow to break the fall.

“Fuck!” I groaned and rolled to the side, cupping my elbow.

They didn’t take notice or seem to give one freaking dingle berry about little ol’ me. The bozos continued tumbling around like two schoolboys fighting on the playground.

I peeled myself off the walkway, got to my feet, and rubbed my throbbing arm. Wow. Just wow. They really couldn’t care less about me.

I threw up my hands—Ouch! My elbow—and threw them down. “Fine! You know what?” I yelled. “Fucking kill each other!”

I marched past them, slammed my door shut, turned the dead bolt, and went into my bedroom. The knocking began immediately, but I was not about to answer. Let them have their awesome macho-man contest. Yes, Patricio had a right to be angry, but he should be upset with me. Me! I’d let Max kiss me. And it was wrong. I knew that.

Of course, Max had crossed the line by kissing me, so I got to be angry with him for that. He knew exactly how to work me.

After two minutes, the knocking ceased and my phone beeped. So now they’re texting me? I walked into the living room, grabbed my phone, and shut it off. They could stew tonight. Both of them. And maybe, just maybe, in the morning, I might be coolheaded enough to talk to them. But not now. At this moment, my damned elbow hurt and I needed to process what had happened. After I completed my angry spinning, of course.

I went to my small kitchen, popped open the freezer, and grabbed the blue plastic ice block I used for my lunches. I wrapped it in a towel and held it to the back of my arm.

The loud knocking started again. “Seriously?” I scowled. “You two need to take a hint.” I marched over, unlocked the dead bolt, and jerked the door open. “Screw you! Okay! I don’t want…” my voice trailed off as a news crew shoved a microphone in my face.

“Miss Snow! What can you tell us about the fight between Maxwell Cole and Patricio Ferrari? Were they fighting over you? Is it true one hit you? Who threw the punch? Will you be pressing charges?”