Page 118 of Broken Deal

But the thought of another man doing everything I wanted to do for her? It makes me want to put my fist through a wall. Still, I can’t let myself think about it. I made my decision when I spoke to her the way I did. I’ve made my bed, and now I have to lie in it.

The elevator of my condo dings, but I barely register it, too lost in thought, staring at the untouched glass of whiskey in front of me. My finger traces the rim absentmindedly as I stew in my misery. Self-pity is all I seem capable of these days.

Matteo strides into the kitchen, taking in the scene—me slumped against the island, staring at nothing. “Oh, so you’re alive. Good.”

“I should’ve told the concierge not to let anyone up here,” I mutter, grabbing the glass and downing it in one go. I reach for the bottle to pour another but decide to skip the formality, drinking straight from it instead.

Matteo doesn’t waste a second. He crosses the room and snatches the bottle from my hand. “When was the last time you ate? Or showered? You smell like a fucking distillery.”

“None of your business. Leave me the hell alone.” I lunge for the bottle, but he dodges me and dumps the liquid down the drain.

“What the hell, Carter? That bottle costs two hundred grand!”

Matteo tosses the empty bottle into the trash with a bored expression. “That’s like a dollar in your world.”

I groan, dragging my hands through my hair, fisting it in frustration. “Why are you here?”

“I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for...” Matteo pretends to ponder, tapping his chin. “Like a week now.”

I shoot him a glare. “I didn’t want to be found.”

“I can see that.”

I slump back in a chair, refusing to meet his gaze. There’s a reason I’ve been staying away from everything—and everyone. I’m a complete pain in the ass right now, weighed down by every bad decision I’ve made. Not just this summer, but my whole damn life. That article put a lot of things into perspective for me, so I guess something good came out of it, after all.

He sighs, sitting next to me. “She didn’t write the article, you know.”

I shrug. “Doesn’t matter anymore.” It’s the truth. I don’t care. I just miss her so much it’s unbearable.

“So, you’re going to what? Feel sorry for yourself the rest of your life?”

“I really thought you’d become less of a pain in my ass now that you’re married to a woman who hates your guts,” I quip dryly, trying to deflect. It’s still hard to wrap my head around the fact he and Isabella got hitched.

He ignores my jab and presses on. “Max wrote the article. Sophia threatened him—said she’d go to the VP with all the proof that she’s been doing his job for the past few years.” He pauses, waiting for me to react. When I don’t, he keeps going. “I’m risking a lot by telling you this. If Isabellafinds out, I’ll never hear the end of it.” He shakes his head. “But...”

I raise an eyebrow, unimpressed. “But what?”

“Sophia’s moving back to Kentucky. She’s leaving tomorrow.”

My heart plummets like a stone dropping into cold water. Moving? No. She loves this city. She wouldn’t do that.

“After what Max pulled, she handed in her resignation, and now she’s packed and ready to leave.” Matteo leans closer, his voice firm. “You need to get your shit together and figure out how you’re going to get her back.”

“I’m not,” I rasp, the words barely leaving my mouth.

Matteo grips my shoulder, his expression hardening as he looks me dead in the eyes. “You’re a lot of things, Mancini, but a coward isn’t one of them. You need to get her back. Ivy was right, you know? You need to stop believing you’re not worthy of anything. That’s a lie. You know that, man.”

His words hit me harder than I’d like to admit. When you grow up without guidance, without knowing what true love looks like, it’s hard to feel like you’re deserving of it. It’s something my mind simply can’t wrap around.

Matteo stands, shooting me a pointed glare. “This is in your hands now,” he says, his voice firm and final before he walks away, leaving me alone in the quiet of my apartment.

I clench my jaw, fighting the war raging inside. My heart screams at me to go after her, to fix everything, but my head keeps reminding me I’m not enough. Not for her, not for anyone. I’ve always believed that. Maybe I’ve spent too long living in the shadow of who I think I should be, instead of letting myself be the man I want to be. I’ve spent all my life running without knowing where I’m going to end up.

But what if, after all the running, this is the destiny I never saw coming?

I’ve sat through board meetings that would break most men, made decisions that have altered people’s life, butnothingcompares to the anxiety gnawing at me as I stand outside Sophia’s door. My hand hovers over the wood, my chest tight as I wrestle with whether or not I should even be here. What if she slams the door in my face?

What if she doesn’t?

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