Chapter 6 Drowning In Disappointment #2
"I don't see a ring. Are you on Amoré Nights?"
I didn't miss a beat. "Of course, I'm looking for Mr. Right, just like so many women. We're all romantics at heart. I'm not going to pretend I'm not the biggest among them."
I was mid-lie, my voice smooth and composed, when a loud crash tore through the room without warning.
My head snapped up, and there Bruno was, standing by the mess he'd caused, eyes locked on mine like he was shocked I possessed the skill to lie as well as he could.
For a second, everything else vanished. The noise, the cameras, even the interviewer's voice faded into nothing.
It was just him and me, locked in a stare.
I sat there, ears ringing, bits of porcelain scattering across the floor. A producer rushed over, headset bobbing, waving a phone.
"Alexandra, quick reel for TikTok. Sixty seconds."
I smiled, the kind that really hurt my cheeks. "Love should feel like a risk worth taking."
The biggest lie I told today.
Bruno heard every syllable. His jaw flexed once, then he looked away.
"Great, we got it," the producer called. Someone yanked off my mic. Fluorescent lights, burnt coffee smell, my pulse drumming in my temples.
Bruno came forward and handed me an open bottle of water. I snatched it and took a large sip.
"You were very convincing. Anyone would think you were love's biggest champion," he said.
"Occupational hazard," I said, then turned toward the exit. His footsteps followed, echoing a beat behind mine. We couldn't even manage to walk in sync.
Finally, all the interviews were done, but instead of a meal and drink at the bar, and me checking out what California had to offer, Greenslate demanded my appearance.
"If you need my help at dinner, don't be afraid to ask," Bruno suggested, hand hovering near my back, not quite touching.
While looking him in the eye, I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "I can handle my business."
The city lights flickered against the windows while our driver moved quickly to open the door.
I slid into the cool leather interior. Bruno followed, shutting the door behind him.
The car moved away from the studio without hesitation.
Silence took over, heavy and awkward. We were headed for the hotel, early enough that I might grab a drink before things started.
The driver merged onto Sunset. Reflections from various shop windows slid across Bruno's face, softening the line of his jaw.
"I'm really impressed with how you handled the interviews, especially the last one," he said in a low, careful voice.
"It was a fluff piece," I answered. "Not exactly Pulitzer work."
"Still," he tried again, "I know how much is riding on this launch. You made it look effortless."
I watched sunlight slide over the tinted glass and pretended to adjust my blazer. "I don't need a pat on the back from you. I just did what anyone else would."
Silence.
He let out a small exhale. "I don't want us keeping score tonight. Can we get through dinner as a team?"
"Teams trust each other," I said, then glared at him. "I will never be foolish enough to trust you again."
Bruno nodded once, fingers tapping his thigh in a slow, restless rhythm. The car filled with traffic noise and every topic we knew better than to discuss.
Outside, the marquee appeared, shining like a verdict.
He opened the door, stepped out, and sighed. "I never lied, Alex. It was a one-time mistake. She was on my dick before I had a chance…"
Stepping out of the car as Bruno held the door, I answered. "Poor Bruno. Did five-four Monique hold you at gunpoint, unzip your pants, force you to sit, manage to keep your legs open while deep-throating your cock? Did you file a police report about your traumatic experience?"
Bruno shook his head and would not meet my eyes as we walked into the venue. "Forget it. Let us just finish the dinner."
But I was heated. If he wanted to talk, then let's do it. "Men. You're all the same."
We stayed quiet as the hostess walked us to our table. No need for everyone to overhear my ex-boyfriend and me arguing. After we sat, we ordered a round of drinks. The higher-ups would take their time getting there.
"Alex, you have daddy issues," Bruno said from across the table. A second later, he lowered his head and shut his eyes, already regretting the words.
One mention of my padre cracked my armor. I hated him even more for knowing exactly where to aim.
"Oh really?"
Defiantly, Bruno locked eyes with me and nodded. "Yes, and for the record, just because I made one mistake doesn't mean I'm anything like your father."
My jaw tightened. "You are exactly like him."
I grabbed my drink and drained the remaining contents.
"Forget I said anything," Bruno said before finishing his drink.
"You're the damn one who keeps opening your mouth."
"Well, I won't make that mistake going forward. You can finally get your wish. I'm leaving you alone. I've been sorry. I'm done. You won't forgive me. It seems you can't let it go."
Without much effort, a witty comeback was at the tip of my tongue, but I didn't use it. Instead, the finality of how he spoke hit me.
Around us, people talked and laughed, their joy spilling into every corner. We sat across from each other, avoiding one another's gaze, two strangers sharing a table.
"You can have your wish, Alex. I'm done."
His voice struck like a bad chorus. My throat tightened.
Probably allergies. Not feelings. Never feelings.
Still, the thought of showing up at the office without Bruno landed heavier than it should have.
I'd told him to get lost more times than I could remember. I yelled it, I typed it, and I would have carved it on my forehead if that were considered normal.
So why did the idea of him being gone feel impossible to bear?
Girl, get a grip on yourself.
I had survived twelve Bruno-free months, yet the idea of days without him now felt wrong in my bones.
Maybe I'd gone too far. I always swung hard when anger took control, and any mention of Padre sent me straight to overdrive. But the prospect of Bruno missing from the office hit like a train I never saw coming.
Ask him to stay. The idea wavered, fragile and bright. I doubted I could say it aloud, but the ache in my chest begged me to try.
Laughter rose and fell around us. The smell of wine and garlic hung in the air. Decision time edged closer, as unavoidable as my next breath.
Once my investors arrived, it did not take long before I was pushing food across my plate and taking slow sips of Negronis. The bitter drink seemed fitting. People called me a bitter woman who hated men, especially the one leaving as I'd asked. But a strange uncertainty stirred inside me.
Dinner needed no smile. Only numbers. I ran the deck.
That sort of discussion I could do in my sleep, and I had to admit that what the alcohol left me too foggy to discuss, Bruno handled.
By the time the Greenslate investors left us, he and I sat silently, ordering more rounds.
This would likely be the last night we ever shared a drink.
As the night went on, everything blurred.
The bartender with the perfect white smile got overly friendly.
His fingers brushed mine when he poured my drink.
I let them.
I remember Bruno leaving, and I invited someone to join me for fun.
I did recall stumbling through the hotel lobby, laughing too loudly, my footsteps uneven, the buzz from the alcohol cushioning me.
I leaned against the door to steady myself and catch my breath but never got to finish.
His mouth crushed mine, tasting like whiskey and every bad idea I'd ever had.
My fingers tangled in his hair as his hands tightened on my waist, the hall tipping slightly, blurring into something that felt unreal.
"Get a room," some annoyed man called after us.
I did have a room, and until the stranger interrupted us, I thought my new California friend and I were already inside.
I searched my bag for the key card as his hand kneaded my breast. The door might have been opened quicker if I didn't take a break to lean my head back for a few seconds so I could enjoy his magic fingers.
Finally, I got the door open and stumbled into the room. Behind us, the door slammed shut. He pulled my shirt off and groaned as his mouth closed around my nipple, tongue hot and wet, sucking until I cried out.
"God," I gasped, fisting the back of his shirt. "Don't stop."
He didn't. His hands were everywhere, mouth devouring me like he'd been starved.
We fell onto the bed, and I was ready to enjoy every inch of him. He'd lit a fire under my skin, one more powerful than I'd felt in a long while.