Page 103 of Broken Deal

“Of course,” he answers simply.

Before I can take them off his hands, he stops me and reaches for a flower, plucking it carefully. Just like last time, his hand tucks a piece of hair behind my ear and places the flower there.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he whispers gravelly.

I swallow hard, trying to drown the way my cheeks heat. “Thank you. I love them.”

He nods, giving me a sheepish smile before asking. “You ready?”

I nod, grabbing my purse and dropping the article inside. I almost grab the laptop out of habit, and I hesitate for a moment, but I keep true to my word and leave it. It’s sort of a surreal, proud moment. Knowing I’m putting myself first for once, forgetting about work and actually enjoying life. As we walk out to take the elevator, my shoulders tense as I see none other than Max waiting for the elevator, too.

“Oh, Lorenzo, long time no see, man,” Max says.

The elevator door opens, and we walk in.

“Max.” Lorenzo gives a curt nod, his voice sharp and to the point.

Max frowns at Lorenzo’s tone, his eyes finally landing on me, like he’s now noticed I’ve been standing here the whole time.

Shit.

Vogue Elitedoesn’t have any hard rules against fraternizing with the people we’re writing about. It’s all too vagueto enforce, considering the range of stories we cover. But Max isn’t the type to care about rules anyway. I can almost see the gears turning in his head, plotting how to use this situation against me. After all, I threatened his job, and if there’s one thing I know about working for a misogynistic asshole like him, it’s that he’s proud to his very core.

Stop overthinking. Nothing has happened.

“I hope Sophia has been nice to work with,” Max says with a smug, knowing grin.

“She has,” Lorenzo replies, his face enigmatic.

“I bet,” Max murmurs, shaking his head slightly. “Have a good night, Lorenzo.” His gaze shifts to me, his tone pointed. “Sophia, don’t forget to turn in the article on Monday.” As the elevator doors slide open, he steps out without another word, leaving a tight knot of tension twisting in the pit of my stomach.

“The article is ready?” Lorenzo asks.

I nod. “I was going to talk to you about it tonight.” I pat my purse. “I have a physical copy for you to read and get your approval. It doesn’t come out until the end of next month.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t need my approval. I trust you.”

My eyes find his in shock. “Are you sure?”

He nods, a soft smile playing on his lips as he drapes his arm over my shoulder, pulling me close. “Now, come on,” he says, guiding us toward the exit, “we’ve got aFriendsmarathon to start.”

I offer him a simple smile, though inside my thoughts are racing. Knowing I’ve earned Lorenzo’s trust makes my heart tighten. If this summer has taught me anything, it’s that he keeps his walls up for a reason. He doesn’t trusteasily. And the fact he’s let me in—deemed me worthy—fills me with a strange sense of pride.

You have to tell him how you feel. Before everything goes up in flames.

I have no other option but to tell him tonight, because tomorrow we’re supposed to go to Vegas, and I’m far from done.

We’ve managed to watch one whole season ofFriends. It doesn’t matter how many times I watch this show; the jokes will never get old. My belly hurts from all the laughter, and we’ve been competing to see who can quote more—and fortunately for me, I’m winning. I changed into one of Lorenzo’s dress shirts that practically fit me like a dress, and he changed into a white shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants that leave nothing to the imagination.

Damn gray sweatpants. They are every woman’s undoing.

It’s been a chill night. We ordered a ridiculous amount of food and snacks, and we’re currently washing it all down with some boba tea only because I was craving some. It’s one of the best nights I have had in a while, and for once, I feel some sort of normalcy. Something I could get used to,onlywith him.

“Try my boba,” I say, shoving the drink in his face.

He pushes both my hand and the cup away. “No.”

“Why not?” I pout.

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