Page 150 of Bad Boy Breakaway


Font Size:

Just silence.

It’s done.

I pick up my phone, set it back down on the coffee table. I can’t text her again.

No matter how badly I want to talk to her.

Too pathetic.

I shot my shot.

Should have aimed better.

Body heavy, I sit still and alone in the dark room, unable to move. I close my eyes and wish I could go back.

Before the Carrington Club. Before New York.

Before I lost control.

Knock, knock.

The sound jolts me from my misery.

Who the fuck’s at my door at this time of night?

I check my phone. It’s almost midnight.

Rising slowly, I crack the door open.

“I have five minutes right now. If you’re not busy…” Tori’s voice is quiet as she fiddles with that gold chain, gazing up at me with her dark eyes. I freeze with my hand on the doorjamb.

She came back.

Heart rate tripling and chest tight, I stare down at her.

Can’t move, can’t think.

She’s in leggings and an oversized sweatshirt, her hair pulled up in a ponytail. No professional armor.

Just Tori.

Pushing through my shock, I step aside and let her in. Every nerve in my body lights up as she brushes past me, her perfume trailing behind her. I can barely catch my breath as the familiar scent winds around me. Mind reeling with all the things I need to say, I close the door behind her.

She stands at the kitchen counter and glances around, sizing up the state of my apartment. Takes a tentative step forward, then stops. I shove my shaking hand in my pocket, frozen in place.

We stare at each other for a long minute, a heavy silence hanging between us.

Finally, she clears her throat. “I had to stay behind to take care of the fund. Emails from investors came in, after the Carrington Club event. They’re pulling out…”

Her fund’s in jeopardy. Because of me.

“How bad is it?”

“I think I stopped the bleeding…” She chews her bottom lip and the same horrible feelings from that night at the Carrington Club come crashing back.

Tell her the truth.

“I’m sorry I shut you out that night.” My voice is low and I swallow hard over the lump in my throat. “I should have talked to you. Told you how I felt.”