Page 3 of Broken Deal

I snicker at her comment. I can’t believe I never thought about calling her Red. With her perfect, curly auburn hair and the red lipstick she always wears, the nickname is fairly obvious. I swear, whoever started this is a genius. I think it was Damian’s head of security, or maybe his cousin? I heard the story from Isabella in passing. I’m not really part of the group they have going on. My schedule is too hectic, and the rare times they get together, I’m always too busy.

Aria perks up, her hazel eyes gleaming with something I can’t quite place. “Are you able to make it to the birthday dinner tonight? I wouldlovefor you to meet the birthdayboy. Please tell me you’re not working, it’s Saturday. You can’t work on weekends!”

Ah. That gleaming is mischief.

Working at one of the top media websites in the country is anythingbutglamorous. That’s mostly because Max, my boss, sucks. The hours are ruthless, and I work more often than not and barely have a social life. It was supposed to be a temporary job, but four years later, I’m still there. I honestly thought I was going to be someplace else by now, but I have too many responsibilities to ever quit and pursue what I want.

I mull it over for a moment. If only they knew all I did today was work when I was supposed to be outlining my book. I have lots of ideas. What I don’t have is the time or the energy to pursue the author career I keep saying I want. And even though I worked all day, I still have so much left to do. But Ididtell myself I needed to start cutting back.

I can also smell her intentions from a hundred miles away, and I’m not sure if I like where this is going. She has been throwing comments here and there about how she thinks I’ll get along with Damian’s cousin—the birthday boy. In Aria’s world, that’s code for:I’m trying to set you up. Ever since she got her own person, she’s determined we all find ours, too. The sad reality is, even if I found someone I could get along with, I willneveropen my heart. I still have too many fresh wounds waiting to be mended, and it’s safe to say they won’t be closing anytime soon. That’s why casual sex is in, and relationships are out.

“Aria Petrov,” I scold, eyeing her suspiciously, “Are you trying to set me up?”

“No,” she replies innocently before taking a sip of her margarita.

“Aria, come on, you can’t possibly be trying to set them up,” Isabella chimes in with an incredulous tone.

I gawk at her, flicking my hair dramatically. “You don’t think I’m a catch?”

She sighs, rolling her eyes. “I never said that, but let’s just say if you were to look up the definition ofplayerin the dictionary, a picture of him would pop up.”

Aria’s shoulders deflate with a long sigh. “But maybe Sophia can keep him on his toes,” she says hopefully. “She’s pretty much the female version.”

I throw the fakest and loudest gasp, clutching my imaginary pearls. “Ugh, as if!”

MyCluelessreference earns me an eye roll from Aria.

Quoting ’90s movies and TV shows is a favorite hobby of mine, which no one—especially not Aria—appreciates.

Isabella thins her lips, holding back a laugh. Knowing her, that’s the best reaction I’ll get. We make quite the trio, if you ask me. I’m the loud, obnoxious one. Aria is feisty when she needs to be but mostly sweet. Isabella, though, she’s the grumpiest. Which was surprising at first. She was so shy and quiet when I met her. But now, I embrace it. An Isabella without her signature frown is a scary one.

“You’re both impossible,” Aria mutters, opening the fridge and grabbing a water, then closes it and leans her hip against it. “Come to the birthday dinner, please.”

Resting my palms on the edge of the kitchen counter, I shake my head. “No.”

“You can’t say no to a bride, it’s bad luck!” she exclaims.

I frown. “Pft. Says who?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “But I promise I have no tricky business.”

Aria is looking at me with those big puppy eyes, and she knows I can never say no to them. I know she’s trying to setme up, but what’s the worst that can happen? If he’s a player like Isabella claims, chances are we’ll have a one-night stand and move on. And if I’m being honest, I doubt anything will happen, because this past year has been a weird one. The men I’ve slept with have been mediocre at best. The excitement I used to feel doesn’t hit the same anymore. Sometimes I think,hey, maybe you’re ready to settle down. But I know better than that.

“Fine.” I sigh, letting my head drop between my shoulders.

“Good luck,” Isabella says, sarcasm lacing her tone.

I grab the kitchen towel from the stove handle and throw it at her. “Shut up before I make you go with me, because if I remember correctly, isn’t your dear Matteo best friends with him?” I arch an eyebrow.

Her eyes snap to mine, her body tensing at the mention of Matteo. “Over my dead body, am I going to be in the same room as that asshole.”

“Isabella, you do realize he’ll be at the wedding, right?” Aria chimes in, unsure.

“Yes, I’m aware,” Isabella drawls, sitting on the kitchen island stool.

“Why do you dislike him so much?” I ask.

Isabella pulls her phone from her jeans pocket, her gaze flicking away from us as she focuses on the screen. “I’m not going to talk about it.”

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