Page 35 of Broken Deal

“Blue,” he warns.

“Stop calling me that. I hate it,” I hiss.

“I like that nickname, it suits you,” Aria chimes in, which wins her a glare from me.

“Sit down,” he says with a bored tone.

I start picking on my nails, already over the situation. “No.”

“Must you make everything so difficult?”

Ouch.I mean, he’s right, but still.

With an eyebrow raised and our eyes locked, I pull out the chair in front of me then slowly and deliberately take a seat.

He darts his tongue out to lick his lips then lets out a humorless laugh. Without saying a word, he sits in the chair he’d originally pulled out for me, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Aria wasn’t wrong when she said you two are the same person,” Damian comments.

We both cross our arms and say at the same time, “We are not.” The movement is so in sync it makes Damian laugh, and that man never—and I meannever—laughs.

Aria hits his arm. “I told you that inconfidence.”

“You owed me for the wholeDamiething,” Damian replies with a casual shrug.

I laugh at their bickering. They act like an old married couple already, in the best way possible. My heart tugs at that familiar longing sensation I get every time I’m around them, but I quickly drown it with the drink Aria ordered for me before I arrived at the table.

As we drink and talk, Aria somehow convinces Damian to teach her how to play poker, so they leave the table, leaving me alone with Lorenzo.

“He’s going to lose so much money.” He laughs.

“He’ll do anything to make Aria happy. I think money is the least of his concerns right now,” I say, looking at the happy couple. Aria is confused as Damian animatedly speaks and shows her what each card means and the costs of the chips.

Lorenzo notices me staring at the game. “I can teach you how to play, if you’d like.”

“No, thanks,” I reply, folding my arms.

“You have to let go of this vendetta against me. Otherwise, you’re going to have a terrible time this summer,” he quips.

He does have a point there. I shouldn’t be making things more difficult. If anything, I should try and be grateful he’s willing to work with me on this article. Lorenzo is a very private person. It’s a big deal that he’s letting me do this.

I let out a resigned sigh. “You’re right. But just to clarify, youreallyannoy me.”

He grins. “If you say so.”

“I do,” I insist, narrowing my eyes at him.

His grin widens. “That’s what I said.”

“You don’t believe me. Why?” I ask, frustration creeping into my voice.

“Never said I didn’t believe you.” There’s something about the tone of his voice that rubs me the wrong way.

“Your tone says otherwise,” I shoot back, crossing my arms tighter.

“Blue,” he says, exasperated, running a hand through his hair.

I follow the movement, watching how he brushes his hair with his fingertips, remembering how those same fingers traced my neck and my collarbone in a sensual, exploratory way not that long ago. Call me crazy, but I swear he was about to kiss me that night. And what’s even worse is I was going to let him.

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