Page 115 of Broken Deal

A fuck-up. A good-for-nothing no one has ever loved, and who can’t love, even when he thought he could.

“Honestly, fuck you, Lorenzo,” she says, her voice quiet but full of venom.

I flinch, but the anger surges, burning hotter, pushing me past the point of reason. I snort, cruel and bitter. “You already did. Multiple times.” The words leave my mouth before I can stop them, sharp as a knife, and I know they’ll hurt. Iwantthem to hurt. Because I’m sadistic in a self-destructing kind of way.

A sharp, angry laugh comes out of her as tears start to stream down her face. “God, I’m so fucking stupid. I thought you were different,” she says, her voice gaining strength. “But you’re just like everyone else, aren’t you? So quick to believe the worst, so quick to throw me away. Another man with empty fucking promises.” She lets out a sharp breath. “After all, you wanted to look after me. Take care of me for once, right?” She shakes her head in disbelief. “That’s a whole lot of an elaborate lie for aquick fuck,” she spits.

I flinch at her words, each one of them slicing whatever’s left of me, slamming into me like a punch to the gut, leaving me breathless. Instead of fighting back or swallowing my pride and trying to find a solution, I stay silent, letting the weight of my insecurities crush whatever’s left of us.

The silence between us is deafening. I still refuse to look at her, because if I do, I will crumble. I will beg for her to stay, and she doesn’t deserve this. She deserves a better man. A man who can properly love her. A man who can protect her from the worst. I want to be that man. God, do I want to.

But how can I protect her from myself?

I can’t believe I let myself believe I was capable of loving someone. I will always think the worst of people. It’s in my nature. It’s how I was raised. And this… This is how it’s supposed to be.

My eyes find hers, and her gaze is like arrows shootingstraight into my heart. Not missing a single shot. She nods knowingly, and without a word, she starts frantically gathering her things. Every movement, every item she throws into her suitcase, chips away at the fragile pieces of my resolve.

But I stand still. I don’t dare move. I don’t even breathe.

This is it. This is what you wanted.

So why do I feel like I’m slowly dying? Like I’m watching the whole summer we spent together unfold before my eyes? Every laugh. Every touch. Every kiss. All of it flashing in front of me like some kind of cruel reminder of what’s slipping through my fingers, like fine, cold sand.

She turns away, her back stiff as she walks toward the door. I can feel it—the finality in her steps, the way her shoulders shake slightly, as if she’s barely holding it together.

“Sophia, wait…” The words are out before I can stop them, but she doesn’t turn around.

Her hand is on the doorknob when she speaks. “No.” Her voice is sharp, unrelenting. “We’re done.”

She steps out of the room, leaving me in the suffocating silence, the weight of reality crashing down on me—I just let the best thing that’s ever happened to me slip away.

These past seventy-two hours have been pure hell.

I spent a ridiculous amount of money on a last-minute ticket to get back to Chicago. It was unsurprisingly expensive and it’s definitely going to set me back for the foreseeable future. Not like it matters anyway, because I’ve had a lot of time to think due to the lack of sleep.

I’ve always been a fighter, you know? I have always had a fight-or-flight response for everything. It’s how I stay productive, it’s how I’ve managed to survive, but this… This was the last blow that obliterated me. If I had any fight left in me, I would be trying to deliver justice. I would be trying to explain and make amends.

Fuck that and everyone else, too.

I walk intoVogue Elite’sbuilding with one thing in mind. I don’t knock on Max’s door when I storm into his office. He looks up, surprise lacing his face for a moment before he shoots me a knowing, smug grin. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Without a word, I slam my letter of resignation on his desk.

He looks at it, tilting his head, amusement creeping into his voice. “Oh, leaving us so soon?”

“Why’d you do it?” I ask, not giving him any context.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” he says.

I roll my eyes. He knows damn well what he did.

“Good to see you haven’t lost your writing talents, at least.”

After the slight mental breakdown I had over it, I had time to mull it over. He must have gotten into my laptop, grabbed all my notes, and twisted them to the point of no return. Max is a lot of things, but he’s not stupid. He was looking for an opportunity to fuck with me and took it.

He rubs his chin, giving me an enigmatic look. “You really thought I was going to let that little empty threat you gave me the other day fly?”

“It really doesn’t matter now, does it?”

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