Page 110 of Broken Deal

“Red, you’re being such a cockblocker right now,” Lorenzo says with an amused, joking tone, and I can’t help but snort a laugh.

Aria casually shrugs, a mischievous grin tugging at her lips. “While it makes me happy you two finally figured it out, it’smyweekend?—”

Damian suddenly interrupts, throwing his hands in the air. “Hey! It’smine, too!” His voice is a bit louder than necessary, making us all turn toward him.

Aria thins her lips, fighting back laughter as she pats Damian’s head like a scolded puppy. “I know, Damie. No need to shout.”

“Don’t call me Damie, I ambeggingyou.” Damian tilts his head back, groaning.

I can’t hold back my laughter. “Jeez, he’s such a lousy drunk.”

“Oh, you have no idea. This isnothing,” Matteo mutters from beside us, his eyes glinting with amusement.

“Hey.” Isabella hiccups—another lousy drunk. “If Aria’s nickname is Red, and Sophia’s nickname is Blue...” She pauses, lost in thought, her brow furrowing as if she’s solving a complex math equation.

I glance at Lorenzo, who’s already stifling a laugh.

“Does that make me Yellow?” Isabella finishes with another hiccup, blinking at us in earnest.

Matteo rolls his eyes, exasperated. “God help us,” he mutters under his breath, though I catch a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“What would you call me?” Isabella asks, zeroing her green eyes on Matteo.

Matteo freezes, the rim of his glass hovering near his lips. For a moment, he stares at Isabella, caught off guard by her sudden lack of attitude. Hell, we’re all caught off guard. This is the first time she’s spoken to him without biting sarcasm or that cold edge in her voice.

He lowers his drink slowly, eyes narrowing slightly as if he’s trying to figure out if this is some sort of trap. “What would I call you?” he repeats, his tone cautious.

Isabella nods, her eyes still locked on his, an unexpected softness in them. “Yeah. What do you think my nickname should be?”

He lowers his drink slowly, a hint of something flickering behind his gaze. His voice is quiet but steady when he finally responds, “Sunshine.”

Her eyes widen, and for a second, the drunken haze seems to clear as recognition flashes across her face. “You used to call me that,” she whispers, her voice soft, tinged with surprise and something else I don’t recognize.

Matteo holds her gaze for a moment. “I know,” he murmurs.

We’re all looking at each other expectantly, wondering what the hell is happening right now. Is this the start of a new friendship? Maybe whatever happened between them—something Isabella refuses to tell us—will finally be a distant memory? But then Isabella looks the other way, tensing her shoulders, and Matteo drops his gaze, sighing in resignation, and the brief moment passes.

“Okay.” I clap my hands, stepping forward and snatching the drink from Isabella’s grasp. “You’re officially cut off.”

Isabella laughs, shaking her head as she stands. “Fine.”

Matteo stands, too, a frown forming on his face. “Where are you going?”

Isabella glares at him, and just like that, the tension snaps back into place. “Wouldn’t you love to know?”

“It’s one in the morning, Isabella. You’re not going out there alone.”

“Good thing I’m not asking for your permission,” she spits back.

Matteo rubs his beard, sighing in exasperation. “If you could stop being stubborn for one second?—”

“Wouldn’t you like that?” She crosses her arms defiantly.

“Yes, I very much would,” he retorts.

“I can go with you,” I offer, hoping to ease the tension between them.

“No,” Matteo says immediately, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I’ll go with her.”

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