ONE

I could have been at a lunch with my girls, sipping cocktails and eating steak that cost more than this sad hotel room. Instead, I was flat on my back beneath a man who was struggling harder than my Wi-Fi when I visited Fiji. Pedro squinted, brows high as if sheer focus might fix anything. His dick was clearly broken.

It wasn’t me!

Staring at the ceiling, I wondered if the water damage above us was shaped like Spain or if it was only my patience cracking in real time. Fed up, I rolled my eyes and shoved him off me.

I had better things to do.

“Listen, man, I don’t have all day. You’ve had more than enough time to impress me. Get your ass some Viagra or something.”

“Wait, just give me a few more minutes,” he begged.

“Minutes?” I asked, unsure I’d heard him right. “Time is money. Do you know how much a minute is worth?”

Pedro sat in bed with a confused expression. Of course, he didn’t.

As I put my arm through my shirt, I explained, “Do you know what the average person in my field makes? One thousand two hundred one dollars and ninety-two cents an hour. Instead of earning that, I’ve wasted my time with you, only to be sent away without what you promised.”

Money down the fucking drain.

“And now you want another damn minute? I could earn twenty dollars and three fucking cents in that time, but you expect me to stay here letting it pass with you? I don’t have another damn one to waste. Your limp dick isn’t worth my time,” I said, then reached for my pants.

Pedro’s cock must have loved a good scolding because suddenly that thick, once-useless bulge was hard and tempting. I bit my lip and grinned. It was clearly ready for action. Once I ran the numbers again, I had to admit I could afford it.

Shit, I was a damn heiress at the end of the day. Fuck it!

Now that he was finally hard enough to be of some use, I slid down on his cock, pressed my palms flat against his chest to keep Pedro exactly where I wanted, and began to fuck the living daylights out of him.

“Damn,” he said in a strangled voice, while I sought an orgasm without apology or theatrics. I wanted to come right now, and this thick dick owed me a good ride. Pedro tried to caress me as I drove up and down, but I grabbed his wrists, pinned them to the mattress, and took what I wanted. This shouldn’t have come as a surprise. I was always in charge in every aspect of my life. Why did I think I could lie here and depend on a man? With Pedro panting and praising me underneath, I set the rhythm and pace. If anyone was going to make the lunch worth remembering, it was never going to be a man.

As soon as we both came, I was back on my feet. “You made up for wasting part of my lunch break. I might let you have some more pussy another time.”

In record time, I scrambled to get dressed, snatching my underwear from the ground and yanking it and my pants on. While I tugged my blouse over my head, I scanned the room for my shoes and spotted them next to my purse and phone.

I figured a broke part-time server-slash-wannabe author hadn’t eaten, so out of pity I tossed him a few bucks. When I dropped it on the bed near him, Pedro’s face tightened with a painful expression that left me confused. “What?”

“You act like I’m a sex worker.”

“Trust me, with your little problem, you couldn’t make that a full-time occupation either.”

Clearly offended, he asked, “What does that mean?”

“Forget it. I’ve wasted enough time,” I said, then headed toward the hotel door. “Eat or don’t, makes no difference to me.”

I refused to give him another second.

With that, I slammed the door and hurried through the hall to the elevator. When I arrived at the lobby, I opened my phone, then the Amoré Nights dating app. I found Pedro’s profile and blocked him. Something about the way he spoke earlier didn’t sit right with me. There he was, broke and living with six roommates, with an unreliable dick, no matter how thick it was, and yet he acted wounded when I was charitable enough to help him get a meal. I didn’t fuck stupid men. In fact, even if it was just about sex, I wasn’t the Red Cross. I needed my developers to update the app so women could filter for men in their preferred price range. Mine had to be above six figures.

Yes, that was what I planned to do once I reached the office, and I needed to get there quickly.

Once I walked out a hotel revolving door, the wind slapped my face, bringing me back into focus. Pedro was done, blocked, forgotten. I had bigger things to do, like launch an empire.

My jaw tightened as snowflakes landed on my black hair. They dusted my designer suede coat, and I glared up at the sky. This wasn’t in the forecast. Not according to that damn weatherman, who I’d watched this morning before taking out my curling iron. This should have come as no surprise to me.

He was a man, after all.

Why the hell I expected him to be dependable or know anything about the topic that fell from his lips was beyond me. I took a few steps through the slush, and my six-inch heels wobbled in protest. Not willing to risk a fall, I lifted my hand and waved, jumping into the first taxi that stopped. I sat in the back of the car as it crawled through the chaos of New York traffic, and the city vibrated with noise and movement. Inside the warm car, I took a deep breath and marveled at how far Amoré Nights had come.

When I originally announced I planned to create a dating app, everyone asked why. The market was saturated, and nobody truly found love on them. That was mostly because the majority of men lied on the apps. However, instead of stating the obvious, I pretended love wasn’t a myth used to manipulate women and blamed low lifetime matches from dating apps on what my competitors lacked.

Amoré Nights offered two key things the other apps didn’t: background checks and reviews from others who had dated their potential soulmate. No longer did you have to take a man’s word before any woman placed her delicate heart in his care.

Just as the taxi stopped in traffic, my phone rang. Only my bored mom would think I was free to chat in the middle of the day. I took a deep breath and lifted the phone to my ear.

“What is it now, Madre?”

“Oh. Such manners. This is how you speak to your own mother? When I was a child, we had respect.”

Annoyed that my cab might not move anytime soon, I spoke firmly. “If you called for no reason, I’m hanging up.”

“No. Wait. Your father wants to know what you’re doing in America these days.”

Why she sounded uncertain, I wasn’t sure. I’d already told them about launching the dating app. Of course, my parents gave me their typical response: unimpressed.

“The app will officially launch next month.”

“Oh right. Your sex app,” she said, but then her voice softened. “I just…don’t understand.”

Frustrated, I took two deep breaths. “How adults choose to use it is their business, but I’m offering them a chance at real love.”

Even I heard myself repeating an Amoré Nights advertisement. Selling love like it wasn’t a scam.

“You? Love? Go ahead and tell me another lie.”

After the quickie during lunch, I was semi-relaxed, but now, thanks to Mother, all of that was gone. This was why I never called, as she often pointed out. Sure, no one saw me ending up selling love, not after the train wreck of a breakup I had in college.

“Alexandra, are you still there?”

Her earlier words replayed in my mind, and then it clicked. I had used the app for exactly what Madre said it was meant for—to get sex.

“What is it?” I asked, annoyed that she hit the nail on the head.

“Anything new happening in your life?”

In the back of a taxi wasn’t the place I wanted to have this conversation. “I’m at the office. I’ll call you back later when I’m free.”

“Wait.”

I didn’t bother listening. If something important had happened, she would’ve told me right away. By now, hanging up on my mother felt as routine as brushing my teeth. Still, it spoiled the decent mood I was in just minutes ago.

After exiting the car, I handed the driver some cash.

Around me, sirens wailed, joining the constant honking of cars and the murmur of voices. The noise did not bother me anymore; I was a real New Yorker now, so I walked into the high-rise where my company, Amoré Nights, rented office space. The day wasn’t turning out at all how I planned. From Pedro’s faulty equipment to my mother, if it wasn’t for the fact my app was ready to go live after months of testing, I might still be wearing a sour expression. Screw that. I refused to let anyone determine the sort of day I’d be having. I was the only one responsible for my mood.

Determined, I lifted my chin and clicked my heels against the polished floor, pretending the sound they made was a battle drum. I could handle anything that came my way. After going through security, I made my way to the elevator and stabbed the button. I had to wait a short while for the damn thing to arrive, so I used the time to return a few messages. Once inside, I tapped the twenty-third floor, and as soon as the elevator closed, a familiar cologne filled the space. I froze. No fucking way, it couldn’t be him. As the metal box began its climb, I tried to think rationally. The brand might’ve been used by him, but it wasn’t made only for lying, cheating bastards. With my head still straight ahead toward the buttons in front of me, I took a breath and returned my gaze to the phone screen.

“Hi, Alex.”

My skin crawled the second I heard that voice. It was too familiar, and I didn’t waste a second hoping it wasn’t him. That low and smooth, mostly smug tone belonged to no one else. Slowly, I turned, every muscle tight, not eager to see this man. Yet, there he was, exactly how I remembered.

Fuck it, I gave up. My day was officially down the toilet. Forget trying to shape it into anything decent. If this pig was here, the battle was already lost. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

My ex-boyfriend, a man whose name I vowed would never cross my lips again, didn’t flinch at my words. Why would he? I’d called him every name under the sun since he cheated on me with my college roommate.

“I’m here for business,” he said.

I hated him, but he still looked like a young Andy García with dark eyes, a sharp jaw, and that stupid effortless charm wrapped in a perfect business suit. Even I could not lie to myself about that face.

Hundreds of companies rented space here. Pure coincidence, I told myself. While I didn’t appreciate my luck at running into him, this unwelcome encounter would end soon. The elevator was nearly at my floor.

“You know what, forget I asked. It’s not my concern,” I snapped, then spun back around and stared at the door, eagerly awaiting my floor.

“Your blouse is inside out.”

Slowly, I lowered my eyes to find my shirt was indeed on incorrectly. Fuck. He was the sort of ex you wanted to run into, if it had to happen, looking your best—not with your buttons or tag in the wrong place. Shrugging, I took a deep breath and turned. “Well, your zipper’s down. I didn’t bother pointing it out.”

We looked at each other for a bit, and he said smugly, “No, it’s not.”

I didn’t crack a smile. Instead, I looked from his face to his crotch, and as expected, he lowered his gaze to double-check.

“Don’t worry about things that don’t concern you.”

A low amused chuckle bounced off the elevator walls. His laughter hit hard, and I tightened both fists at my sides. One more second of that smug sound was almost too much to bear. One year ago, he turned me into a joke, and now was enjoying another chuckle at my expense.

How damn long was this elevator going to take? The twenty-third floor never felt this far from the lobby before.

“Seems you had an enjoyable lunch.”

Seconds ago, I’d silently made a vow to go back to pretending this cheating piece of shit didn’t exist and never exchange another word with him. However, at that moment I couldn’t resist delivering one last blow. Spinning back around, I locked eyes with my ex, licked my lips slowly, then made a show of wiping the corners of my mouth.

“He was delicious.”

Bruno’s nose wrinkled, and his lip curled like he smelled something horrible.

I would have stayed there, mocking him with a smile he would never forget, if the elevator doors had not opened at my floor. I stepped out, my heels clicking as I enjoyed the satisfaction of getting the last word. Then I noticed something strange. The familiar scent trailed after me. Confused, I paused, turned, and found Bruno.

“What the hell is this? Why are you on my floor? Where are you going?”

“Amoré Nights.”

For a second I thought I’d misheard. Amoré Nights? My company? What the hell did he want with my company? As I stood there frozen, he walked around me casually, as if he didn’t owe me a single explanation. I watched him move ahead, my jaw dropping as he opened the door with my company logo on it. Anger surged through me when the door shut in my face, leaving me on the outside looking in.

Regaining composure, I rushed inside just in time to hear an explanation.

“Hello. I’m the operations specialist sent by Greenslate. I’ll be needing an office to oversee the launch of Amoré Nights.”

Shit! That wasn’t just a title, he would report to the people holding the purse strings.

There was a pit in my stomach. My receptionist leaned to her right to make eye contact with me. “Ms. Ortega?”

At a loss for words, I looked from her to him and back again. Greenslate gave me the largest amount of funding to start the business. Since only a foolish businesswoman would use her personal funds, I brought in investors. Now, they seemed to want to babysit me at my own company, and of all the damn employees, they sent that fucking man.

“Ms. Ortega?”

Remembering Tina was waiting, I gave a professional nod. “Please get the Greenslate employee settled.”

“Yes, Miss,” she said, then stood and extended a hand to my annoying ex. “What did you say your name was, sir?”

“Bruno Gasol.”

They kept talking while I marched down the hallway, heels loud as gunshots and fingers tight at my side. If I didn’t get into my office quickly, I’d explode in front of everyone.

Once inside, I looked for something to throw.

“Did you have a bad lunch?” Eliana, my secretary, asked as she entered.

Dragging off my coat, I glared at her and fired off my own questions. “Did Greenslate send any emails or calls asking for permission to plant an employee here?”

Her confused expression was my answer.

“What happened? What employee?”

Ignoring her, I paced the length of my office, each turn fueled by the kind of fury that begged for a target.

“This is exactly why my father doesn’t believe in investors. He likens them to partners, and too many of them meant you had less control.”

Eliana shook her head. “Alex, breathe. I’m getting dizzy just watching you.”

“Greenslate thinks I’m not capable of launching Amoré Nights, so they sent a babysitter.”

“Can they do that?”

“It’s a gray area. They have rights as investors, and sending someone to assist and oversee is definitely within their rights,” I explained, still pacing the room. “Why does it have to be him, though?”

“Who?” Eliana asked, twisting the cap off a bottle of water and holding it out to me. I grabbed it and drank some, but it burned going down my throat. All of this shit stung. “If they didn’t believe I could run the damn business properly, why the hell did Greenslate invest?”

Eliana frowned. “Wait, wait. Why jump to that conclusion? You gave me the impression seconds ago it was fairly normal.”

“Well. It is, but…”

“But what?”

Staring at her, I ran my hand through my hair. “They fucking sent my ex-boyfriend. The one man I never wanted to see again.”

My throat felt dry. Just seeing his face brought back a memory I thought I’d never be forced to remember.

“Shit,” Eliana blurted out.

Exactly. A man I’d vowed never to see again was now a few doors down the hall in my company, getting himself settled.

“Alex, calm down.”

This was calm. Pacing around the room, eyes wide, hands shaking. That was calm. If not, I’d be down the hall creating a scene that would embarrass me and the company, whose reputation I didn’t want to ruin. My heels scraped against the floor as I did another lap around the room, worked up and furious to the point that I could not sit or think straight.

“Operations specialist. He will dig into everything, not only operations. Give him time, soon he’ll be in finance and product readiness.”

Eliana placed her arms on my shoulders and steered me to my desk. When she gently lowered me into my seat, I leaned back.

“We launch next month. You’ve worked tirelessly on this company. Your ex-boyfriend can’t do anything to stop Amoré Nights.”

Hearing her call Bruno my anything made my jaw tighten. However, she was fucking right. No damn way would I let him take another thing away from me. Greenslate had no legal right to their money back.

“The meeting will start in ten minutes,” Eliana reminded me in a voice that sounded unsure I’d still attend.

I stood behind the desk, smoothing the wrinkles from my pants with shaky hands. My jaw was set, and the choice was already made. Nothing was going to stop me today.

“Are these the files? Is the room set up?”

Eliana carried a strange look. “Yes.”

“Fine. Alert the Greenslate spy and let’s go.”

I walked around the desk toward my office door, head held high, shoulders back, ready to face it all. Bruno Gasol wasn’t about to shake me. I’d already survived him. I was unbreakable now. As I reached for the doorknob, my secretary called out, “Alex.”

Ugh, I’d given myself such a good pep talk. I was in the zone and spun around, annoyed. “What? Let’s go.”

“Maybe you should fix your shirt first.”

A few minutes later, my Chanel blouse was properly buttoned and right-side out. I left the office, headed down the hall, and walked through the door Eliana held open. I ignored Bruno seated at the far end of the table.

“We don’t have much time left, and as you can expect, we cannot afford to drop the ball now,” I said while lowering myself into the chair.

Eliana gestured with her head in Bruno’s direction, and I took a deep breath, rolled my eyes, and with a face that looked like I smelled the foulest odor, explained his presence. “Greenslate has sent us some assistance. Mr. Gasol will be with us for a while.”

“How long?” one employee asked, and I’d wondered the same thing during my walk from the office.

Instead of wasting time guessing, I looked at him. “Mr. Gasol, how long will you be a stain in our lives?”

My words weren’t missed. A few people looked shocked, but not Bruno.

He simply smiled. “I’m only here to help. Promise not to get in anyone’s way. Greenslate just wants to ensure the launch is profitable for all.”

“Promise?” Ha. I remembered when I was foolish enough to accept promises from this man. Once I realized the words had slipped out, I looked for a way to fix it, but there was no need.

“Well, help is never a bad thing,” said James, a lead data engineer who was on thin ice.

“Maybe Mr. Gasol can help you personally. God knows you burn enough of my time already,” I spat, and the room got quiet. This man was someone I’d planned to fire for weeks. Actually, if I wasn’t riding Pedro earlier, he would have been asked to leave the company already, but I was delayed.

Being a perfectionist meant James and his mistakes did not fit with my vision for the company, especially with the Greenslate spy watching.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have spoken,” he mumbled.

Eager to get the meeting back on track, I spoke to IT. “Change the app so that if a woman doesn’t wish to fall in love with a man who has nothing but two nickels to rub together, she has the option to avoid meeting him.”

“How can we be certain the men aren’t lying about their work or earnings?” one employee asked.

A second added, “Should we ask for W-2s or pay stubs as proof of employment?”

“If you make it harder for men to join, how’s the app supposed to succeed? I’m not trying to cause trouble, it’s just math,” Bruno said. His voice made my skin crawl.

“So, you’re saying a woman should take whatever comes along? The eight-figure executive has no right to have standards and ask for a top earner? Only if we let a man lie to her will he join Amoré Nights?”

The moment the last word left my mouth, I heard the sharp edge of bitterness laced through it. Around me, various faces looked on, some surprised, others tense, all far too silent.

“I agree with Alex,” Shelia in marketing said.

Bruno and I stared at each other across the table, but he spoke just the same. “Do you?”

“Yes. OK, we all want to date billionaires, but seriously, not many of us do. Women often date based on feelings and emotions despite their preferences. Forcing a broke man to be honest won’t ruin all his chances. If a man believes lying is the way to start a relationship, he’s not the kind we want on Amoré Nights,” she said with deliberate clarity.

Another female employee spoke up. “Shelia’s right. That’s what sets our dating app apart from the competition.”

I shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass before I opened my mouth to speak. “You see, Mr. Gasol, I went out of my way to create a space to exclude lying men who wished to waste a woman’s time. Amoré Nights is my baby, and if we lose a few deceitful men, sparing just one woman tears, I have no problem with it.”

He looked unmoved. “That’s a nice sentiment. Luckily for you, most dating apps have more men than women. You can afford to scare away a few and still be successful.”

His words prickled my skin. “Only Greenslate seems to have any doubt Amoré Nights will be successful.”

“Really? Other than you and maybe your girlfriends, what makes you so certain of its success?”

Taking his question as a personal insult, I tightened my stare but kept my emotions at bay. “The numbers haven’t been reported to Greenslate yet, but my team have already analyzed them from the launch in Spain months ago. The numbers are fine.”

“Spain?”

“Yes. Spain. Maybe you’ve heard of it. It’s a beautiful country. There are people there, and some of them want to find love,” I spat.

Bruno smirked. “As you know, my family is also from there, Alex.”

The use of my nickname made my whole body tighten now.

“So, Amoré Nights will be an international app. Users can even look for love abroad?” Bruno asked.

“Yes. Some might argue all the men in their home country are trash. I’ve at least given them an app to check if it’s just their location or if all the men in the world are horrible creatures.”

The conference room was full, but the only thing I saw was Bruno, who sat too comfortably in his seat for my liking. Eyes locked with mine, tossing back my words like they needed his approval. I shot back without flinching, our exchange sharp and fast. The tension was thick enough to cut, our voices low but loaded, and I could feel the eyes around the table shifting, the silence growing as everyone tuned in. They all knew. They had to know. This wasn’t a normal business meeting or discussion. Bruno and I clearly had history. We’d once been deeply in love, then the whole thing burned away until only the bare bones were left. And even though I should remember my professional reputation, I didn’t back down. Not with him. Not now.

After going back and forth with Bruno in the meeting, we all went to our neutral corners for rest and recovery. I felt like a fighter between rounds, waiting for the bell to return to the center of the ring.

Inside my office, Eliana stared at me, confused.

“What?” I yelled, tired of her eyes.

“Damn, you two must have a lot of history.”

That was an understatement. “It’s a long story.”

“What are the chances he’s the one Greenslate assigned to supervise your launch?”

She didn’t really need an answer, so I stood and began to pace. “It’s just my luck. What should be one of the happiest times of my life is soured by Bruno Gasol.”

Eliana glanced at the office phone. “If you can’t handle it…maybe we call and request a replacement.”

My eyes flew open. I was trying to build a reputation in the business world, a space that wasn’t fair to women to begin with, and now I was supposed to let word get out I couldn’t work with a man because we once fucked? Bruno strutted in like he could be professional, so damnit, I could too.

“Eliana, if he can do it, so can I. Shit, I’m not the one who should be uncomfortable.”

Her voice softened. “Mind if I ask what happened between you and Mr. Gasol?”

I patted her shoulder. “After Amoré Nights is launched and the blizzard named Bruno leaves our orbit, I’ll gladly share. But for now, I have to rush home. I’m having dinner with the girls.”

Eliana’s eyes widened. “Oh, it’s tonight.”

“Yes. The weekly Aston Lane College bitches meeting is tonight, and it’s my time to host.”

As I headed toward the door, my secretary chuckled. “Why you four would call yourselves bitches I will never understand.”

“We heard it so much, we just decided to embrace it.”

A short while later, I entered my luxury New York condo. As the door shut behind me, I removed my shoes and took a deep breath, happy to be home. Today was one for the record books. I walked farther into the condo. The windows and marble floor sparkled, which told me Linda, my cleaner, had been here today. It lifted my mood to walk into a clean space. I inhaled and recognized a delicious smell. Dominic, my personal chef, was clearly already at work. Following the rosemary and garlic, I approached the open-concept kitchen and spotted him moving with his usual grace. After a friendly chat, I walked toward the living room, passing my comfy gray sofa that faced the fireplace. One touch on the remote lit the flames and gave the room a bit of ambiance. Everything looked beautiful. From where I stood, the dining table was set with expensive silverware, white orchids, and glowing candles. When you paid good money, you got a great team.

After a quick glance at my watch, I rushed to rinse the day from my body and hair. The girls would be here soon, and this was the only part of the day I was certain would go well. Forty-five minutes later, I exited the bedroom. After the embarrassing mistake earlier, I stopped in the hallway in front of a mirror to make sure my clothes weren’t inside out.

All those years spent learning to dress myself, and today I forget the skill.

I tugged at the sleeve of a newly purchased cashmere sweater, wondering if the soft blue was the right color for my olive-toned skin. Since it was too late to second-guess the choice, I pushed the thought aside and pulled my thick damp curls into a bun. As usual, I kept my jewelry simple because I had no desire to be like my madre. Only my watch and diamond studs that caught the light when I moved.

Downstairs, I heard the door shut. Dominic must have finished and let himself out. At least one man in my life knew how to make himself useful.

Minutes later the doorbell rang, and I walked with my wine glass in hand. Using my free hand, I opened the door. “What’s up, bitches?”

Mei walked in first. This Chinese beauty, with her sharp cheekbones and almond eyes, snatched my glass and lifted it to her mouth. “Thanks.”

My mouth fell open. She had no idea what kind of day I’d had but went straight for the one thing holding me together. Mei patted my shoulder in a playful way and stepped past me. As always, my full-time medical student and part-time model friend walked with easy confidence while taking the wine glass farther from me.

“Really? You’re doing door service but didn’t bring me one?”

Turning my head from one to the other, I complained, “That bitch stole my drink.”

Olivia greeted me with a wide, warm smile that turned into a soft chuckle as she stepped past me, her long legs and blonde hair bouncing behind her. She slipped out of heels I had never spotted in a store and wore a dress I fully intended to get the details on before the night ended. As she made her way further into my home, Mei offered her glass. That figured. Olivia was an heiress too, but unlike me, not many told her no.

“I’ll get my own,” she said as I joined them.

Next to me, Olivia filled a wine glass so high I wondered why she even bothered moving it from the bottle.

Mei seemed to read my mind. “You might as well have just lifted the bottle to your head.”

We laughed, like we were back in the college dorms, not professional women with corporate jobs and mortgages.

“Getting drunk is one thing. I’m still going to do it with class,” Olivia said.

“Says the woman who vomited in the taxi last week,” I said.

We shared another laugh, then the doorbell rang. I hurried to answer it. “Oh, good, Demetria is here. We can finally get this started. You guys wouldn’t believe the day I had.”

“Let me guess, fucked a man over breakfast, another for lunch, and one probably lined up for after we leave,” Mei mocked.

Damn, they really knew me well.

Opening the door, I smiled. “You’re late.”

“The law firm had a meeting. Sorry.”

We embraced, and in a matter of seconds, Demetria, who I was the closest to of all the girls, picked up on something. “Are you OK?”

After she’d removed her shoes and headed toward Mei, who held a glass of wine out to her, I shared, “Bruno is back.”

All three of them just stared at me, frozen. Olivia had her mouth slightly open like she forgot to close it, Mei blinked hard as if trying to process what she’d just heard, and Demetria tilted her head, eyebrows raised high, clearly questioning if I’d spoken correctly.

“Let’s eat,” I said, walking past them all toward the table.

“Fuck food. Where did you see that piece of shit?” Olivia asked.

Only when I reached the table and lowered my glass did I answer. “At Amoré Nights.”

“What? Why was he there?” Mei asked.

It made no sense to stand talking while the food got cold, so I pulled my seat out, sat, and everyone followed. Demetria sat beside me, her long curly black hair falling over one shoulder, and she swallowed her wine like a marathon runner on the finish line.

“Spill it.”

As ordered, I told my friends about the day I’d had.

“Here, take your wine back,” Mei said, even though I’d already poured another glass.

Olivia stabbed her fork into her salad as she spoke. “Of all the damn employees at Greenslate, it just had to be him.”

“That’s exactly what I said,” I answered and felt Demetria’s eyes on me.

Mei chewed, and soon after swallowing, she spoke. “Men suck, we know that, but none more than Bruno. Why didn’t he ask to be reassigned? Why come to your company and disturb your peace?”

“Maybe he still wants you back,” Demetria said, and we all stared at her. She might be my closest friend, but we hardly saw eye to eye on men.

“Are you fucking serious?” Olivia spat.

“What? I still believe in love, even if it’s trendy not to,” Demetria said.

I sighed.

Mei shook her head. “How? Why?”

“The rest of us have been burned too many times, and smarter now, survivors of lying sacks of shit,” I said.

Olivia, who had quit our men are only good for one thing club after getting engaged to Luke Forrester, the only man actually worth shit in this world, kept noticeably quiet.

However, Mei and I had active membership cards, but not Demetria, who was still in search of a special man.

“I just do,” Demetria said flatly.

She cried the same as us, maybe even worse, but naively thought there was another decent man out there—all she had to do was keep searching.

“He had her. Remember, the cheating bastard wasn’t satisfied.”

Thankfully, Olivia spoke. I didn’t have the energy. Demetria had encouraged me to forgive Bruno all along.

“Nope, we aren’t doing this. Let’s go back to the earlier rule,” Mei suggested.

“We don’t talk about Bruno,” Olivia sang.

I chuckled but looked at Demetria, who studied me intently. “Once Amoré Nights is launched, Bruno will be out of my life. Period.”

“Are you sure deep down that’s what you really want?” Demetria pushed.

Squinting, I just stared. She’d known me long enough not to need an answer.

“Wait, you really think Alex would take him back?” Olivia asked, with a concerned look.

Demetria spoke quickly. “I support her in whatever she chooses. I just don’t want her to feel she can’t take him back if that’s what…”

“If any of you see me back with Bruno, please take me to the nearest treatment facility and have me committed. I’d have to be out of my fucking mind.”

Laughter erupted between us the second I finished speaking, the kind that made Olivia clutch her sides and Mei wipe tears from her eyes. I leaned back with a smirk, proud of myself. I wouldn’t let an ex-boyfriend throw me off balance.

As always, a night with the ladies was perfect. When it ended, I was all smiles and in a great mood. An hour later, the doorbell rang again. I lowered my wine glass and walked barefoot over to the door.

I flung it open, my breath uneven. My huge breasts were displayed nicely by the hallway light, both nipples were already hard, my pussy was wet, and the pooling between my thighs grew as Dominic’s gaze roamed without shame, stopping on the curve of my hips. My personal chef looked hungry, and I wasn’t about to send him away starving.

“You made dinner. The least I can do is offer dessert.”

The wind cut through Madison Avenue like a knife, but I stood my ground. I wouldn’t get shoved around by it or anyone. I pushed through the revolving doors and walked to the elevator after saying a little mantra. “You can do it.”

No sooner had I said those words, I spotted Bruno ahead of me, and my internal body temperature grew. I needed no damn artificial heat; anger and annoyance had warmed me up. Seriously, I’d have to do this until we fucking launch? Endure a series of unpleasant days at my own company because of this man of all people. I didn’t want my rage to be noticeable, so I entered the elevator door he held open and pressed the button.

“Good morning.”

Unable to help it, I rolled my eyes. “I made myself perfectly clear long ago, a good morning for me is one where I wake up and learn you’re dead.”

Seconds passed as we stood in stiff silence while the elevator moved, the motor’s noise louder than either of us.

“Alex, you know I’m sorry. I’ve done everything possible to make it up to you.”

Just then the elevator doors opened, and a few people stepped inside. Thank goodness he stopped his sob story.

We continued to climb higher until finally we arrived at the Amoré Nights floor.

When we exited, I told him, “This is my place of business. I don’t want to hear anything from your mouth that is not about the company. You are not going to ruin something important to me.”

Bruno looked wounded; that man had really perfected the look. “Why would I do that? Greenslate wouldn’t have even invested if it wasn’t for me.”

His eyes widened when the words left his mouth, and Bruno glanced away. That half second told me everything, and a series of ideas formed in my mind.

“What?”

“Forget it.”

I grabbed his arm and pulled him into my office. The door slammed behind us. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Speak clearly.”

“Alex, calm down,” he said, holding up a hand.

“No. I didn’t even know you worked at Greenslate until recently. I haven’t said your name in a year, and that rule includes my friends. So you being the reason they invested in my business makes no fucking sense.”

Bruno spoke quickly. “Greenslate is the big league. They don’t normally invest in small start-ups, so I talked my boss into it.”

I clenched my jaw. “Fuck! I don’t want to owe you anything.”

“You don’t. I’m the one who owed you, so I wanted to help.”

Frustrated, I lowered myself into my chair. Bruno continued explaining, but I barely registered the sounds. Other than the one in my mind, which was now filled with many thoughts.

What the hell was this man up to? What was his angle?

Bruno lowered one of the coffee cups he’d been carrying since I spotted him downstairs onto my desk, and I blinked as I looked at him.

“Espresso and sweetened condensed milk.”

Annoyed that this man who’d wrecked my life thought remembering how I took my coffee, or getting my dream company funded, would make up for anything, I slapped the cup off my desk. The hot liquid splashed as it fell, and some droplets splattered onto Bruno’s pants.

“If I want coffee, I can get it myself. I also have a damn secretary. Greenslate didn’t send you over here to fucking sniff around me.”

“Alex.”

“Ms. Ortega. That’s what you should refer to me as, Mr. Gasol. We have no relationship whatsoever. You might have forced yourself into my space, but you need to remember your place.”

Just then, a familiar ringtone sliced through the tension. I would have ignored it if he had not been right there, but I was more than ready for the conversation to end, so I grabbed the phone.

“Hello.” I smiled when I recognized the voice. “Oh hi, handsome.”

Bruno still stood in front of me. For fucking what? Couldn’t he take a hint? Fine!

“Dominic, last night was just what I needed. Your cock was amazing. Is there any area you aren’t capable in? Kitchen or bedroom, there seems to be no space where you do not shine.”

I leaned back in my chair, phone pressed to my ear, laughing softly at something Dominic said, and out of the corner of my eye, I caught the way Bruno’s expression darkened. His jaw tightened, eyes narrowing, carrying a flicker of jealousy he couldn’t hide.

“Why don’t you swing by around lunchtime. I have a desk here we can clear so we can have a sweet time.”

Shocked, I opened my eyes when the man I was trying to get rid of lowered himself into the chair in front of me.

He was staying. What the hell!

“OK. Sure. I’ll see you later.”

After I ended the call, I asked plainly, “Why are you still here? Our conversation is finished.”

He shook his head hard. “It’s not over. We aren’t over. I don’t care how many useless men you sleep with.”

I laughed. “Bruno, you tried this before, and it didn’t end well. Don’t push me, because I won’t back down or have a change of heart.”

Rubbing his elbow, Bruno nodded. “I still have the scars to remember.”

A year ago, after returning to the college dorm, I found Bruno and Monique Beckford, the roommate who pretended she was a friend, in the act. She was deep-throating Bruno’s disloyal cock while he screamed in bliss. In fact, I heard them before even opening the door, but like a fool I entered, thinking there had to be an explanation. Well, after they were found, Monique looked so proud of herself.

“Since you didn’t know how to take care of him, I just fucking stepped up.”

Bruno fumbled with his zipper and wasted time speaking. “Alex, I’m sorry.”

Between both of them, my emotions varied, but I wasn’t about to fight over a man.

“You two can have each other,” I said and meant it.

I left the room and never looked back at either. This shocked Bruno, who spent days, then weeks, trying to earn my forgiveness. When that didn’t happen, the manipulative ass thought I was still under his spell and cornered me one day.

“Alex, let me explain.”

Walking around him, I kept going down the path, the sky watching over us a silent witness to the end of our relationship.

Bruno ran after me. “Please let me explain. I can’t live without you.”

“Then go ahead and die,” I hurled and walked away.

He grabbed my arm to stop me, but I shoved him off without hesitation, fury blazing hotter than anything moving through my veins.

“I’ll jump into traffic,” he threatened.

Mid-step, I stopped and turned around. Both of us locked eyes as we stood on the sidewalk. Cars whipped past beside us on the busy street, and the noise seemed to give me a suggestion. Slowly, I walked toward Bruno.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

When I was close enough, I shoved him hard, rage blinding me as he stumbled backward toward oncoming traffic.

“You already killed me. No fucking reason you should get to live.”

I didn’t just lose a boyfriend that day. I lost my belief in love and loyalty.

“A broken arm and my life flashing before me as the cars all slammed on their brakes around me, desperately trying not to run over my body…” Bruno said, bringing me back to the present.

Glaring at him, I spoke firmly. “Always a lying sack of shit. You said you wanted to die. Why try so damn hard to live, then? I also remember you promised to leave me the hell alone. Why are you here? Does this look like leaving me alone?”

“I made them invest, and now my job is on the line.”

For the briefest of moments, the idea of sinking my whole company just to ruin Bruno’s career flashed through my head. But he was no longer important. I’d put everything into Amoré Nights, and unlike him, there was no reason to kill it.

The door to my office burst open and slammed against the wall with a force that startled me. Eliana carried a worried expression. “We have a problem.”

“What?” I asked, already on my feet.

She looked from me to Bruno as if wondering if we should speak privately.

“Our fates are tied to Amoré Nights. Go ahead.”

Eliana wasted no time. “We’re being sued.”

“Amoré Nights? By who? It’s still in beta. For what?”

Bruno spoke. “You should call the company lawyer.”

“I don’t need you to tell me what to do. Is that some sort of difficult decision? Who else did you think I’d call, the janitor?”

“Alex, focus,” Eliana said, as if she were the boss and not me.

Still, in that moment she was right. I jumped into action, calling the legal team, and soon everyone gathered in my office.

“Mr. Davis is suing on grounds of libel. The man has an embarrassing one-star rating average from women on the app, and now nobody will date him.”

I waited for the rest. When the lawyer said nothing, I looked around the office. “He’s wasting his time. Every platform has the same protections, and we’ll beat him if it even goes to court.”

“Ms. Ortega is correct. How quickly can you have his lawsuit dismissed?” Bruno asked.

The lawyer answered slowly. “Does Amoré Nights use any vetting policy for ratings?”

“Really? Reviews are everywhere online. What procedure would…” I began to rant but cut myself off. This would not help, and he clearly had more to say.

“At the moment, users are free to rate and leave reviews, and the problem is Mr. Davis insists everything written is false,” the lawyer finished.

“All of them?” Eliana blurted out.

I let out a short laugh. “Twenty-five members rated him, and he says not one of them told the truth.”

“That is Mr. Davis’ stance.”

Bruno came to my side, like we were partners on the issue. “We could easily beat him in court, but I don’t want it to delay or hurt the launch. Amoré Nights can’t afford bad press that makes men run from the app. That would ruin you.”

What had been a joke seconds ago now felt dangerously real. My hand curled into a fist. “Pay him off. Money talks.”

“Are you sure?” one of the lawyers asked.

Did I want another man to get away with screwing me? No, but I didn’t have a choice.

“Wait. Doesn’t the app agreement bind users to arbitration? I’m sure many of those women would love to go on record about how much Mr. Davis sucks. In my experience, an angry woman can go on at length about why she dislikes you,” Bruno said.

If that was a jab at me, I didn’t care.

“But what about the press?” I asked.

“The app just did what you intended, spared another woman from meeting that man. Now we should protect ourselves a bit further. Disable written comments and leave only the rating system. Then legal will add more verbiage about not being responsible for the ratings and that no one may request changes or sue because of dissatisfaction.”

“Mr. Gasol could have a point. Those lines about his smell, sweaty hands, and beady eyes probably set him off,” Eliana said.

Damn, leave it to my fellow women to go that deep into the details. I nodded, and after a bit more back and forth, it seemed the crisis was averted. Finally, with my office mostly cleared, I looked at Eliana. “Can you get me a cup of coffee?”

She started to leave but stopped. “I know you have history with Mr. Gasol, but in this case, he helped.”

I didn’t answer, and she went out to do as I’d asked.

“Hip-fucking-hooray. My ex, the man I swore off, is now hailed as a hero at my own company. The only thing left is for them to put Bruno on their shoulders and carry him around while I stand by and watch,” I muttered to myself.

Even in my somber mood, sunlight forced its way through the tall office windows and into my face. I sat there, tormented and silent. I was fairly certain soon many in my staff would liken Bruno to Amoré Nights’ savior, and I was left with nothing but bruised pride. I didn’t want that man to rescue me. Given a few short hours, I would’ve thought of the same solution. All he did was think quickly on his feet. Now, he’d be called on to make good decisions under pressure.

Give me a break.

Where was that skill when he decided to screw Monique?

The beat dropped, and my thighs burned, but I pressed the pedals harder, letting the music swallow the pain. In the low-lit studio, I kept pushing while the instructor shouted.

“You can do it, ladies. Don’t quit.”

For some, her voice might be annoying, but I found it motivational. I focused on the large window that framed Manhattan in the morning light, like a moving postcard, and kept going. When the song finally ended and a new one began, I looked around the room at my friends: Demetria gritted her teeth, Mei mouthed the lyrics, and Olivia rode like her soul depended on it. We looked put together, four women sweating in sync on thousand-dollar bikes, but in my case, looks could be deceiving. My foot slipped on the pedal, just a bit, and the city shook. Bruno’s resurgence had thrown my world off center. Still, in here, with the city watching, I spun like nothing could touch me.

When the spin class finally ended, I was drenched. We all were. We headed to the sauna when Demetria spoke. “How’s the launch coming?”

She meant Bruno but knew I might lose my shit if she mentioned him.

“Yes, isn’t the Amoré Nights team still all in one piece?” Mei asked.

Olivia shook her head. “Don’t worry, I’ve got bail money ready, girl.”

“Why don’t you guys understand how unbothered I am by him now? Bruno is not someone I feel anything for anymore. I’m not blushing at the office. He is like a stapler. Sometimes useful, mostly clutter.”

Mei winked at me, and I knew what was coming before she said a word. “Use him to fill any holes lately?”

“Fuck no. I have a whole app at my disposal. Why would I let Bruno get near me again?”

It was only a matter of time before Demetria gave her two cents, and she never varied. “You two were perfect together. It was sad how it ended.”

“That was all him,” Olivia added as we settled into the steam room.

“Can we discuss someone other than me? Who are you people fucking?”

Mei smiled. “My latest is an actor. He saw me walking on a runway and already paid for a semester of medical school.”

The three of us dropped our jaws in unison.

“Damn, Mei, you have gold down there.”

She shook her head. “He hasn’t even gotten any yet. Just a rich man showing off, so I gave him a bill to impress me with.”

Laughter echoed off the cedar walls as we lounged in the sauna, sweat glistening and spirits high, like it often was when we were together.

“Olivia, how is wedding planning going?” I asked.

“If I knew it would be so annoying, I’d have just dragged Luke to elope in Vegas,” she said, causing us to switch attention to her.

“Elope? Both of your families are old money, upper society. They would kill you,” I pointed out.

My friend sighed. “Exactly. It’s not happening.”

“Just remember, you stole the groom from his lesbian fiancée. Annoying or not, you’d better plan your victory party,” Mei teased.

To anyone outside our circle, that phrase would raise more than a few questions. Why would a lesbian be engaged to Olivia’s current fiancé?

Demetria’s eyes flashed with mischief as she said, “Or you could always give Luke back to the woman you stole him from. Then you wouldn’t have to plan a wedding.”

Olivia twisted her face, displeased. “Very funny.”

It was. The three of us laughed. After we spent more time in the sauna talking about Olivia’s fashion company and the rest of our sex lives, I hurried to the office.

Once I walked off the elevator, I saw my receptionist in a low-cut shirt, fanning her chest as she spoke to Bruno.

That was fast.

When did these two become so friendly? Tina pointed to something on a piece of paper, leaving him no choice but to lean over to see what it was. She smiled, aware that from where Bruno stood he had a full view of her chest, which that blouse struggled to cover properly. Even from behind them I could see her hardened nipples poking through the fabric.

“Oops, I got something on my shirt,” she said when Bruno stared at the paper longer than she liked.

Like a well-trained dog, he lifted his eyes to where Tina pointed, right by her erect nipple.

She leaned forward. “This is my favorite shirt.”

Bruno straightened himself but never took his eyes off the show she gave.

Really? At the front desk for all to see, while representing my company, Tina was brazen. She didn’t even notice me. Obviously, this job wasn’t this woman’s first priority. My receptionist traced a slow line over her breast, watching Bruno the entire time, every motion unmistakable.

“Like what you see?”

“I don’t,” I said. “This is my place of business, not a bar. Tina, get your things. You’re done here.”

Bruno turned and Tina stood abruptly.

My ex wore the same expression he had given me a year ago in my dorm room. Guilty. Tina’s cheeks turned red, and shame filled her eyes. Bitch, please!

“Ms. Ortega. I-I-I didn’t mean…” she managed, stumbling over the words.

I pointed at her neckline. “Your nipple is showing. Fix yourself and go.”

As she tucked her breasts back into the extra-small shirt, I spoke firmly. “Hurry and leave before I have security escort you out. You were the face of my company, and this is what you’re doing at the welcome desk.”

Heading to my office, I was pissed. Not jealous, obviously. Definitely not. I didn’t want Bruno. She was free to have him, but me paying her an hourly wage to sift through my garbage was not an option.

I wasn’t surprised when Bruno walked in behind me.

“Just then, out there? I didn’t encourage Tina.”

“You didn’t stop her either.” I let out a small laugh. “Right? You drooling didn’t help Tina’s nipples harden in any way.”

“Alex, be reasonable. I can’t help it if that woman—shit, any woman—finds me attractive. I never came on to them.”

Somehow, this conversation seemed to be about two different instances.

“Poor Bruno. Your only fault was being so irresistible to the ladies.”

He looked ready to lose his temper, and I wished he fucking would. Because then I could really hurl this paperweight I’d been eyeing at his head.

“You’re being unreasonable…give me a break. You are fucking half of New York.”

“Half? You’re undercounting. I’m more than halfway through all of them by now.”

Four minutes passed and we hadn’t stopped snapping at each other. Our words grew sharper and louder, until suddenly neither of us had anything left to hurl.

Silence.

Bruno stood in front of me, jaw clenched.

The anger on my tongue shifted into something different. I ignored it.

“Makes no sense what you’re doing. Fucking people to hurt or forget me.”

My laughter was uncontrollable. “Bruno, when a good cock is in me—your ego might not believe this—but I don’t remember you.”

Silence.

“I’m fucking done,” he said.

“You make it sound like that hasn’t been the case for a while. Fuck Tina, anybody you want. Shit, I have a whole dating app you can choose from.”

Obviously, I’d be the first to give him a one-star rating.

“Let’s just get through the media events, then deal with the rest later,” he said.

Briefly, I watched him, puzzled, before it hit me that Bruno planned to come with me to California. We still had the Greenslate dinner and the PR tour. I didn’t love the idea, but one thing you could count on was my poker face. This man, more than anyone, would not get the satisfaction of seeing me shaken. “Be ready to leave tonight so we can catch the red-eye.”

He shrugged. “Fine.”

“FINE!” I yelled, not proudly, but why did he suddenly act as if I’d invited him and he was begrudgingly coming?

We boarded the flight like strangers, though just hours ago we were bickering like two people who knew exactly where to hit and cause the most damage to each other. For more than five hours, we sat side by side, Bruno with his arms crossed, while I stared out the window, pretending the clouds were more fascinating than they really were. Not a word was spoken the whole flight, but his presence was louder than anything he could’ve said. And maybe, just maybe, I hated how much I still felt it.

When the plane landed at LAX Airport, I stood.

Bruno broke the silence as I removed my bag from the overhead compartment. “Alex, let’s put our differences aside and work hard to give Amoré Nights the best launch possible.”

I glared. This was my baby. Why wouldn’t I work to give it the best way forward? “Fine. Let’s go.”

Our itinerary for California was packed. We had interviews with all the television stations and every social media influencer Greenslate had connections with, and unfortunately for me, all of them had the same annoying questions. After the ninth interview, the smile plastered on my face slipped. As the face of Amoré Nights, there was an expectation, not just that I was a believer in love, but also that I was actively searching for it to make my existence whole. Across from this annoying Bay Point News Now reporter, I desperately tried to keep the mask in place. “Why did you create Amoré Nights?”

Why? I knew many women were fools for love and figured I’d multiply my trust fund in a short amount of time. “For the women who are searching for love in all the wrong places. I want to help them,” I answered as my cheeks hurt slightly from holding the fake smile in place, but I had too much depending on this, so I held it in, steady like armor.

“Let’s be honest, do we need a new dating app?”

Hell no, each app had the same rejects, just with a different profile.

“I think one more doesn’t hurt if it has something new to offer. Amoré Nights is like a village, women rating and helping each other.”

When she nodded at my answer, I tried to stretch my smile a bit wider. It still didn’t reach my eyes, but it seemed to be enough.

The reporter looked at my finger, and already I knew the next question.

“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.

The pain in my head was intense. So much that I vowed never to drink alcohol again. With my eyes closed tight, I drew in a few deep breaths and then went still when I caught a familiar scent. Sandalwood and vetiver, faint but unmistakable.

Bruno.

My eyes flew open, and my heart raced. I turned to the side and found him peacefully asleep next to me. Panic rushed through me, and I shot upright and pushed his shoulder firmly.

“Get up.”

Startled, Bruno blinked and rubbed his head. “Why did you do that?”

That’s what he was worried about? The last thing I recalled was him paying the bill and me chatting up the bartender. The rest was really a blur.

“Tell me we didn’t sleep…” he muttered, eyes darting to the sheets.

I looked at him in disbelief; I was naked, and so was he. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together.

“All I remember is coming back to the table to try speaking with you again. We might have had a few more drinks.”

“Get out.”

Bruno’s eyes widened as he lifted his palms. “Wait⁠—”

“Out,” I repeated, dragging the sheet tighter around me as I rushed from the bed.

I shoved him toward the door with one hand, clutching the sheet with the other. My cheeks burned hotter than the sun pushing through the curtains.

“Alex, let’s just talk about this like adults.”

“Just go,” I hissed, heart pounding with a mix of panic and shame I couldn’t begin to untangle.

He scrambled for his pants and shoes as I shoved a half-naked Bruno out of the room, slammed the door, and tried to steady myself. I had been in all kinds of situations, but this one was new, even for me. Sleeping with a man and not remembering it. And of all the men in California, I had to go and fall into bed with BRUNO?

I feel sick to my stomach.

Bruno, the same man I’d promised never to touch again. I once swore if he needed a drop of spit from me, I’d let him die. Now I had slept with him.

Before my head exploded with thoughts, I hurried to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, splashed water on my face, and decided to go for a jog. I had to get out. Just looking at the messy sheets that smelled of sweat and Bruno’s cologne made me uneasy.

Minutes later, I was outside, running hard despite the hangover, hoping the pounding of my feet and the Los Angeles sun would burn away the disappointment and confusion. Two miles in, my mind was still stuck on last night. My lungs burned, sweat drenched my back, and sneakers struck the pavement like they wanted punishment. If I ran hard enough, maybe I could erase it.

After a while, I made a U-turn and dragged my tired legs back to the hotel.

The sun seemed to mock me, shining straight into my eyes. I raised a hand to block it just as my phone rang. I wasn’t in the mood to talk but checked because, after all, I had a company that would launch any day now. When I saw Demetria’s name, I shook my head. She’d have a field day with this one.

“Hey.”

“I saw you on a few news shows out here. You looked fabulous,” she said.

Rather than wait until I saw her again and stumble through this awful confession in person, I decided to just get it over with. I could use the scolding I deserved. “I slept with Bruno.”

Silence.

“Did you hear me?”

The sun beat down, heating the concrete while I walked with the phone against my ear.

Cars whipped past in blurs of chrome and noise.

Finally, Demetria spoke. “So, what does this mean? Are you two back together?”

“Hell no!” I yelled, too loud.

“So, what? You broke up with Bruno to be friends with benefits? I don’t get it.”

I spent the next mile explaining how I kicked him from my room, parts of last night that I remembered, the number of drinks, and even the car ride when Bruno told me goodbye, and I felt uneasy.

“Whoa. Alex, please talk to him. You guys need to have an adult conversation,” Demetria said, then paused for a second. “If you ask me, you two have unresolved feelings. Sounds like you were miserable at the thought he’d disappear and got drunk to mourn the pending loss.”

Leave it to Demetria to act like my therapist. “I’ve had casual sex plenty of times.” I shrugged.

“Nothing between you and Bruno is casual. Plus, why do you sound so distraught if it’s no big deal?”

I let out a groan. She knew me too well, and I hated it.

By the end, we’d shifted to safer topics. I wasn’t calm exactly, but I at least could breathe normally again.

Thanks to the talk, my walk back went quickly. As I left the elevator, all I wanted was a hot shower and to get into bed. Housekeeping should’ve changed the sheets by now. Yes, the man was gone, and soon after my shower, all traces of Bruno would disappear.

That was my thought until I approached my room. What I saw made me rush to hide behind the ice machine. I watched a fully clothed Bruno knock on my hotel door, loud and sharp. Frightened he’d see me, I held my breath as he glanced around, and pressed back against the wall, willing myself invisible.

“Alex, I know you’re in there,” he said after the next three knocks. When that got no reply, Bruno hit the door harder.

“Alex. Stop this childish crap. We have to talk⁠—”

He paused when two doors near my room opened. Each occupant stared at him.

Bruno wisely backed away from my door, and when he started walking toward me, I slipped away from the machine and hid in the staircase. Coward, I told myself.

A whole minute passed before I figured the coast was clear and I could get inside my room. The elevator had already sounded, so I assumed Bruno was gone by now. Still, I sprinted down the hall, heart thudding, and fumbled with the key before shoving the door open and slipping inside, breathless. My heart was racing so hard it echoed in my ears. I poured myself a glass of water to calm down. Then something hit me. Bruno’s scent was still in my room. Confused, I looked around at the freshly made bed. Then the carpet line that told me it was vacuumed. The room was turned over, but still he was going nowhere.

He was like a damn STD I couldn’t fucking be rid of. Yes, initially there was enjoyment, but the aftereffects left me regretting my actions.

In that moment, I made the decision to leave. All the scheduled PR stuff was done the day prior. Today was all about influencers, and my staff could handle it. After booking myself a ticket on the next flight, I took a quick shower. With my hair still damp, I dressed in record time. Then grabbed all the clothes I brought and shoved them into my carry-on bag with shaking hands. “I’m fucking out of here.”

I slipped out of the hotel in a baseball cap and oversized sunglasses, looking like a budget celebrity dodging paparazzi, pretending that leaving Los Angeles would somehow erase my mistakes.

Demetria called it running when I told her of my actions once I was safely in the airport terminal.

“I’m not running. I just don’t need to spend any more time with him.”

“You can’t dodge Bruno forever, Alex.”

As I waited in the TSA line, I rolled my eyes. “Call it whatever you fucking want. I don’t need this complicated crap in my life right now.”

She backed off, so I ended the call, but Demetria’s words stayed with me the entire flight back to the East Coast.

When I landed and spotted a call from my father, I closed my eyes and braced myself. Typically, all calls came from my madre, so the fact he was calling meant it was important.

“Yes, Padre.”

“Oh, I hear you have been ignoring your mother’s calls. Wanted to see if you had balls that I wasn’t aware of, and would dare to not pick up if I phoned.”

So, he’d called to argue. Figures.

“I just got off a flight from California⁠—”

“Why do I care?”

Silence.

“Your mother and I are coming to America. It’s about time I see the reason you wasted that expensive business degree I paid for, and what nonsense phone app your mother is talking about.”

Silence.

“Alexandra. I’m speaking to you,” he said in a tone I remembered from my childhood. No warmth, only authority.

“I didn’t know you were finished speaking. Thought there were more insults coming, and I know how you hate being interrupted.”

I braced myself for him to start yelling, but when seconds passed and he didn’t, I lowered my phone briefly to see the screen. He was still there.

“Next Tuesday we will arrive in New York. Your mother wants to stay with you to see how you’re living. Any questions?”

Hell yes. The app celebration party was Tuesday. I did not need this. And who knew how long this unbearable visit would last. Why was it really happening? My father didn’t normally waste any time on me. I was a daughter, another man’s future namesake; he only cared for his boys, my loser brothers. So, I didn’t bother saying much.

“No.”

“Good.”

Even after seconds passed, his words still stung. Me. I’m the child he wanted to check up on. Me? At least I finished school. Just the thought of my family annoyed me. If it wasn’t for the trust fund I got after graduating college, and whatever I’d inherit when he finally died, I would’ve gone no contact long ago.

In every way I’d surpassed my brothers, time and time again. Santiago was in jail for murder. That bully killed his girlfriend, taking the if I can’t have you nobody will statement too far. Danny was divorced and selfishly avoided paying child support for the children he’d refused to see in years. The fact Padre needed convincing to be proud of me, after their complete failures, was infuriating. OK, only Edwardo was of any use to Padre, as he’d taken over the family shipping company, and he ran it so well Ortega Shipping had outgrown anything our father dreamed of.

I was lost in my thoughts when the sudden ring of my phone startled me, snapping me back to the present as the taxi weaved through traffic.

It was Bruno. No sense avoiding him. We’d have to have a conversation sooner than later, so I accepted the call.

“Where are you? I heard you checked out.” He barely let me put the phone to my ear before asking.

“Home. My team can handle the rest of the PR.”

I heard him sigh. “We need to talk.”

“Go ahead. Isn’t that what we’re doing right now?”

“Not like this. I want to speak face to face about serious matters.”

I knew what he’d ask, and the answer was no. Sleeping together didn’t change anything. “It was a drunken mistake.”

“Alex!”

Ignoring his interruption, I continued, “You said it best a year ago. Let’s do what you asked then, forget it ever happened.”

“Letting Monique touch me was a mistake. We weren’t a mistake. I love you.”

I hung up before he could say anything else, before his voice cracked my resolve.

Love lingered in the air like smoke, stinging more than it should.

Outside the taxi window, New York blurred past, the city too busy to care about my wavering feelings. I pressed my phone face-down on my thigh, my fingers trembling just enough to make me clench them. This was a mess, a big one.

The weatherman gave every New Yorker the same warning: cold, snow, stay home. However, he was always wrong. How bad could it really be? Either way, the office wouldn’t be packed today, only those living close enough would make the commute. Instead of my usual blazer and heels, I pulled on a cashmere sweater and jeans. Then my heavy coat. For my trek, I reached for my waterproof snow boots, sat near the door, and laced them up. When I was done, I hesitated, my pulse quickening as though something might bite the moment I stepped out. The hard part wasn’t leaving; it was finding the courage to do it.

Even though my personal life was a mess, I wasn’t about to let Amoré Nights suffer. I reached for the knob. You can do this.

On adrenaline and false confidence, I strutted to the elevator, steps away from my front door.

By the time I hit the lobby, the doorman’s mouth dropped open.

“Morning, Jarvis. I’ll see you later.”

He blinked. “Ms. Ortega, you’re headed to the office? I thought you were the boss.”

“The snow will probably stop falling soon,” I said, then walked through the door he held open.

Plus, that was exactly the point. If anyone needed to set the example, it should be me. Some of my employees could not work from home, which made showing up important. It was nearly the end of January; the whole reason we wanted to launch Amoré Nights now was so women would credit my little app for getting them the best Valentine’s Day ever. February was days away.

As I slowly made my way toward the office, the few blocks from my condo now felt like a trek up Mount Everest. The wind whipped snow against my face, stinging and blinding me as I stumbled forward, barely able to see more than a few feet ahead.

Damn, for once the weatherman was right. I hated men!

Eventually, I made it. Stomped the snow from my boots and went to the elevator. I needed coffee, something warm. Minutes later, I walked into Amoré Nights and was shocked to find the place full.

A smile tugged at my lips, then spread wider. The majority of my staff were here, in sweaters and jeans, clicking away.

“So, none of you trusted the weatherman, or are you just the best employees I could ever ask for?”

“Both,” someone said.

Another voice yelled, “Who would’ve thought he’d get one right.”

Laughter rippled through the office, and Eliana pressed a hot cup of coffee into my hands.

“Bless you,” I said, taking a sip immediately. “OK. If you’re all going to work, I’ll get started. Can’t have it said I’m slacking.”

After offering my staff one last warm look, I hurried to my office and went in.

“We have to talk.”

The corners of my mouth fell when I spotted Bruno at my desk. I looked back at the door to make sure it was shut.

Then, in a low pleading voice, I spoke. “Why are you in here?”

Silence.

Carrying a dejected expression, Bruno didn’t answer. I removed my coat and hung it on the hook. “I have work to do.”

“So, that’s it? You’ll pretend we never happened,” he said, voice tight.

Out of reflex, I was ready to defend myself. “I don’t need to explain myself to you.”

Bruno stood. “Running from California and hiding in your condo all weekend. What’s that going to achieve? The old Alex would face challenges head-on.”

“The old Alex is gone. Isn’t that clear by now?”

He gave no sign that he’d heard me. “Let’s talk now like adults.”

I stared at him in disbelief. “This is my place of business. Amoré Nights launches soon. I don’t have time.”

“Make some,” he ordered, and that tone wasn’t one to use with me. “Let’s meet after work at the coffee shop next to the building.”

Was he not listening?

“Bruno. The other night, I was drunk. I’m not changing course in my life because I couldn’t hold my liquor.”

He flinched. “It was more than that, don’t pretend…”

“Leave my office. Do not pretend to know how I feel better than I do. If I say nothing comes from it, then that’s it.”

Before he could get another word out, I yanked my office door open. “Mr. Gasol. Please excuse me. I need to get back to work.”

Bruno closed the distance in fast, long steps, his jaw tight and his eyes burning with anger. When he reached the door, he glared at me.

“You’re so fucking stubborn,” he snapped before storming out.

Naturally, the whole office heard his words and now stared at me. Frustrated, I slammed the door shut with a sharp echo.

Eventually, the snow stopped, streets were plowed, and many of the sidewalks were already shoveled. The possibility of legal consequences keeps every New Yorker with property careful about clearing the sidewalks, afraid of fines or lawsuits. So, I offered my hardworking employees lunch at the ramen restaurant nearby. I gave Eliana my credit card and told them to go ahead. I wanted to finish up a call with Olivia, who for the last six minutes had scolded me about screwing Bruno.

“Didn’t we say he was trash?” she reminded me.

It brought a smile to my face. “Yes.”

“So, why are you eating from the trash when you own a dating app, with endless options?”

Leave it to my friend to make things sound so simple. “I was drunk, I wouldn’t willingly dumpster-dive.”

“Well. Protect your heart.” Olivia said exactly what I’d been thinking since that night.

Even through the anger, I could no longer pretend I lacked a heart. Once, it had been full of love for Bruno. A year of steady effort had drained those feelings, and going back now felt impossible.

“I’m on it.”

After that assurance, she hung up, and I left my office to meet the team for lunch. I was paying, so I might as well eat. I pressed the elevator button and smiled when it opened instantly. However, when the door completely opened, among the riders I spotted Bruno.

I took a deep breath before entering.

“Alex.”

Oh God, please tell me he didn’t plan on having this conversation for all to hear.

“Now isn’t the time,” I said flatly and pushed the lobby button.

Ignoring the desperation in my voice, Bruno spoke. “Earlier wasn’t a good time, and we were alone in your office.”

I spun around, glancing from him to the people. Through gritted teeth I spoke. “Not now.”

“When!”

Everyone gathered in the elevator only needed a tub of popcorn, and they’d be ready for a show. Only one guy pretended to have hearing loss and kept his eyes glued to his phone screen.

Lowering my head and voice, I whispered, “Later.”

“Let’s do it after work at the diner nearby,” Bruno said, then waited for me to lift my head. Before I could speak, he warned, “Either then, or I camp out in the lobby of your condo building.”

God no, my neighbors were all stuck-up rich society folks, so that would be a nightmare.

“Fine, let’s talk then.” One look at Bruno told me he didn’t believe me. As the elevator door opened and everyone filed out, I followed, then turned around to face him. “We need to get this over with. I’ll be there.”

“Six-fifteen?” Bruno asked with one brow raised.

Sighing, I rolled my eyes and turned to walk away. “I’m going to eat lunch. See you later.”

Behind me I heard him clearly. “Alex, don’t chicken out this time. Let’s put everything on the table, and if you still want to never see me again, I’m gone forever.”

Forever. Such a long time. So permanent.

Weirdly, it felt like a threat.