Page 28 of Broken Deal

Shut up, brain.

1 Beautiful.

2 Cousin.

Iarrived at the coffee shop Sophia and I agreed on about thirty minutes before the actual meeting time. And it’s safe to say, for the first time in my life, I’m actually nervous. I walked into this feeling rather confident, but now the realization that someone will have some insight into my life makes my skin itch. I don’t think she’s a vulture or anything. I’m aware this is her job. But her boss gives me the worst feeling I can’t quite place.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee and baked pastries fills the air, mingling with the quiet hum of conversation around me. I glance at the clock, noting the time before looking up as the doorbell jingles, signaling someone’s arrival. My heart quickens with anticipation.

The temperature inside the coffee shop rises a few degrees as I take her in. She’s wearing an olive-green maxi dress paired with a white, knitted, cropped cardigan and black boots. Her long, beautiful brown hair cascades in its usual waves. While I’ve never been a hair type of guy, I guess there’s a first time for everything. The only thing I hateabout her outfit is that she’s wearing sunglasses. She shouldn’t be allowed to wear them. How dare she hide those beautiful blue eyes of hers?

Jesus. Are you even listening to yourself right now? You sound like a pathetic idiot.

I walk up to her as she’s ordering, and before she can pay, I hand the barista a fifty-dollar bill and order a decaf, since I already had some caffeine today. With how nervous I’m feeling about this, the last thing I need is more caffeine.

“I can pay for my coffee.”

“Blue, my chivalry will never allow something like that,” I reply, grabbing her wallet and dropping it back in her purse. “You look beautiful today.”

“Will you ever call me by my name?” she asks, exasperation creeping into her voice. “And stop complimenting me. Our?—”

“Our deal.” I interrupt her. “Yeah, yeah. I know. I haven’t even technically accepted,” I point out, raising an eyebrow. “And no. I will never call you by your name.”

“Good to know, I guess,” she retorts with a resigned sigh. “And I don’t care if you haven’t accepted our unspoken deal or not.” She looks at me, but her sunglasses are still on, not allowing me to admire those perfect irises of hers. “Stop it.”

I do my best to hold back a laugh, because really, there’s nothing sexier than when she stands her ground. She thinks she looks so tough, when in reality, it makes her look more beautiful. Dare I say even cute?

We head to the pick-up counter to grab our drinks, and I tilt my head toward where I was sitting. When we arrive at the table, she sits and finally takes off her sunglasses. Relief washes over me at the sight of her eyes. There’s a sort of tranquility they give me, even when they are nothing butintense. I’m making no fucking sense, but that’s the best way to describe what I feel every time I can get a glimpse of them.

She opens her tote bag and takes out what seems to be a planning calendar and a journal. “Okay, so this is how it’s going to work, I will have the tape recorder going as I ask questions. If at any moment you want something to be off-record, all you have to do is let me know so I can stop the tape recorder. Got it?” She points at me with her pen, raising an eyebrow.

I nod firmly, jokingly saluting. “Got it,boss.”

She shoots me a glare before hitting the on button on the tape recorder. “This is junior journalist Sophia Evans, day one of interviewing Lorenzo Mancini.” She sighs, opening her journal, her eyes hovering over the page. “I see here you’re technically Lorenzo Mancini III.”

I nod. “My father named me after him and his father.”

“Any particular reason why?” she asks.

I shrug. “Maybe he wasn’t inspired that day, who knows?”

The truth is, he was obsessed with continuing the legacy. It was always about that. Nothing else mattered to him, not really. And what better way than to give me the same name as him and my grandfather? Talk about being original.

She bites her lip as she jots down her notes, and I find myself captivated by her every movement. Like the way her hand is wrapped around her pen as she delicately writes her notes. This woman is so effortlessly perfect, I wonder if she knows the pull she has on people.

“You were born and raised in Italy, correct?”

“This is public information already, Blue. Why are you asking this?” I ask with a bored tone before taking a sip of my coffee.

She stops the recorder and rolls her eyes. “If I ask for your deepest darkest secrets, are you going to confess?”

I thin my lips, trying to contain my laugh as I say, “For the right price, I might.”

Her cheeks turn that cute pink color, and I can’t hold my laugh anymore. It’s too easy to rile up this woman.

“Okay.” She snaps her journal closed with a little force. “I think it’s time we talk about our deal.”

“What deal was that again?” I knit my brows together, feigning ignorance.

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