Page 6 of Broken Deal

I force yet another laugh as I take some very much-needed distance from him. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

I’m trying not to stare back and gawk at him, but it’s useless. I can’t help it. I forgot how handsome he is. He’sridiculously tall, about six-foot-three, if I had to guess. His dark navy suit fits in all the right places, hugging his broad shoulders and thick, muscled thighs. His white dress shirt has a few buttons undone, a small gold-plated cross pendant chain peeking through against his tattooed chest. His hair is slightly messy in anI’m-hot-and-I-can-rock-thistype of way. But those eyes are what hold me captive. They’re as beautiful as I remember—a light-brown color with a touch of gold.

“You don’t believe in destiny?” he asks, taking a seat.

“No,” I answer, taking the farthest seat from him.

He frowns, rearing back in surprise. “Talk about being pessimistic.”

“Talk about being delusional,” I retort.

Destiny my ass.I’m just unlucky, and the world wanted me to get a hefty reminder of the fact.

“You seriously don’t believe in destiny?” His eyes gleam with mischief as he licks his bottom lip. “Not even at this moment?”

“Not even a little bit,” I confirm, practically shooting daggers at him with my eyes.

If I believed in destiny, it would be ironic. With my upbringing, I’ve always felt everything has been working against me. I’m aware of how egocentric I sound right now, but with the shit I’ve been through, it’s extremely hard to believe otherwise.

Aria is silently taking in our strange exchange, moving her head back and forth. Damian is, well, being Damian, and remaining enigmatic.

Instead of answering, Lorenzo zeroes his thrilling eyes at me and raises an eyebrow, silently asking me,Ready to give up yet?And I simply stare at him back with a blank expression. I will never give up. Not because it’s not in my nature,but because, honestly,fuckthe patriarchy. Men have been on top for far too long.

“Do you guys know each other?” Aria asks.

“No,” we speak at the same time without breaking eye contact.

I can see Aria from the side of my eye trying to get my attention to drill me with silent questions. When you’ve been best friends long enough with a person, you can have a silent conversation by looking at each other. This woman knows me well. If I look at her, my cover will be blown. Aria is the one person I can’t lie to. She can always smell the bullshit coming from a mile away. I know I’m going to have to confess eventually. It’s not like this is going to be the last time I’m going to see Lorenzo.

This is so messed up.

A waitress appears at our end of the table and asks, “Anything I can get you guys to drink?”

As Aria and Damian request what they want, we’re both still staring at each other.

“What about you, handsome?” the waitress asks Lorenzo, her tone flirty and playful.

He breaks eye contact and looks at the waitress, a smile playing on his lips. “I’m good. But a gin martini with a twist for the pretty lady over here.” He nods my way.

One, did he seriously call me apretty lady? And two, he remembered my drink order?

“Pretty lady? Are we in 1929 or something?” I snap.

“Or something,” he muses.

“How do you know her drink order?” Aria scrunches her nose in confusion.

“Wild guess,” Lorenzo replies with a casual shrug.

Yeah. And the three gin martinis he bought me a year agobefore burying himself inside of me.That’s what I really want to say, but I stay quiet instead.

The waitress takes drink orders for the rest of the party, her eyes finding Lorenzo every chance she gets. Once she finishes and leaves, she starts to sway her hips, obviously trying to catch Lorenzo’s attention. Hell, it even catches mine. She has such a nice ass, I’m almost tempted to ask about her gym routine. I shift my gaze to Lorenzo, hoping to catch him staring at her, but instead, his eyes are settled on me. His gaze is so intense, it makes every nerve in my body feel alive for a moment. I straighten my back, flicking my hair away from my shoulder as I hold his gaze and raise an eyebrow. Any other normal person would be embarrassed, but him? He flashes me with a stupid, dangerous smile, the infuriating dimple on his left cheek making an appearance as he keeps holding eye contact without any ounce of shame.

This man sure is something else.

Memories of that night invade my mind. Like the way his hand grasped the nape of my neck, possessive yet gentle, before sealing his lips on mine. The way his body pressed against mine as he so easily lifted me and pinned me against the wall while our tongues continued to explore each other’s mouths. Warmth overtakes me, and I can almost taste the faint sweetness of smoky whiskey on my lips, just as I did that night.

Why is this happening to me?

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