Page 7 of Broken Deal

I would have been happy to never have crossed paths with him ever again. Yes, the sex was hot, and yes, the man is practically sculpted like a Greek god, but that’s the extent of it. I don’t do repeats. It’s my one non-negotiable rule. Even if I’ve come to regret it from time to time since that night. Butnow, knowing full well who he is? Yeah, that door is shut. I already threw away the key and everything.

Lorenzo drops his elbows on the table. “So, how long have you guys beenbest friends?” He directs his words at me. “And how come we’ve never met?”

I start picking at my nails with a bored expression, refusing to answer him.

“Sophia has a really busy schedule. She works forVogue Elite. She rarely gets the chance to hang out with us,” Aria chimes in, ever the sweet girl who wants to keep the peace.

He nods, visibly impressed. “What do you do there?”

“Junior journalist,” I answer.

He scrubs his face for a moment, pondering. “Someone recently reached out to do an article about me atVogue Elite. Max Steiner.”

Oh no. No, no, no.

Oh, you unlucky bitch.

Aria goes to say something again, but I stomp on her leg with ashut the fuck uplook.

“Oh, that’s Sophia’s boss,” Damian chimes in instead. “Did you accept?”

Man, my best friend sure has a blabbermouth of a fiancé.

He gives Damian a pointed look. “You know I didn’t.” Lorenzo’s eyebrows lift, his eyes filling with curious interest. “Though?—”

Before he can continue, a beautiful woman with curly, black hair strides to our table, interrupting us. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. We’re supposed to be singing ‘Happy Birthday’ and cutting the cake now,” she exclaims, griping Lorenzo’s forearm.

He rolls his eyes, standing. “You’re lucky I like you, Ivy.”

“Please. You’re the lucky one to have such a wonderfulbest friend like me.” She crosses her arms, and I decide at this moment, whoever she is, I like her.

We all stand and walk to the table where the cake is. And while everyone is singing, his eyes, accompanied by a knowing, playful smirk, never leave mine. Not even when he leans over and blows the candles. Not even when everyone around him is congratulating him.

I have a feeling this is not going to be my last encounter with Lorenzo Mancini, nor the last time he’s going to push my buttons. One player can recognize another, after all. He’s having entirely too much fun with this, and it’s only fair I have my own share of fun.

Bring it on, player.

I’m ready.

Running in four-inch heels isnotfor the weak. The only reason I’m wearing these fancy shoes is because my boss emailed me at midnight to inform me about a crucial last-minute meeting. He said, and I quote, “You must bring your A-game.” He speaks like an overgrown teenager who peaked in high school most of the time, and I honestly don’t understand how he’s able to keep his job. Especially because I know for afacthe doesn’t do anything.

It was hard to not get pissed off when I received that email. I’m a lot of things. Very high-energy and somewhat intense, some people would go as far as to call me obnoxious, but I will never play when it comes to my job. I take so much shit from that place, any other normal person would have walked away by now. If I was the only one depending on the income, I would probably have left by now. But that’s not the case. So I keep working—and keep getting taken advantage of.

As if on cue, my phone rings with a call from the person who depends on this much more than I do.

“Hey, Mom,” I answer breathlessly, trying to speed walk to get to work on time.

“Hi, honey. You sound out of breath. Everything okay?” she asks with a sweet, soft tone.

“Yeah. I’m running a little late for work. Have an important meeting to get to.”

“Train issues again?” she asks.

“Yup.” I sigh.

Living and working in downtown Chicago has its downsides—too many transit delays and owning a car is out of the question. I’d rather spend the money on something useful, like Mom’s appointments or groceries. Traffic’s a nightmare, and rent nearVogue Elite, right in the heart of downtown, is sky-high. So, I’m stuck with public transit.

“You okay? Did you take your medication today?” A hint of worry laces my tone.

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