Page 38 of Broken Brothers

I could only laugh and kiss her in appreciation of the gesture. She was far too kind of a person. At least in falling for someone, I had picked a true winner of a human being.

“You know the way to my heart is through my stomach,” I said.

“Well, it’s through someplace else, but that’s the second best path.”

And she’s got a sense of humor. Man, I really hit the jackpot.

Don’t fuck this one up, Chance.

Like you would be fucking her over on the deal…

“Chance?”

I lurched out of my thoughts, realizing that I had spent the last several seconds in them instead of answering them. Such was the extent of my own conscience questioning what I had done with the deal for her father’s company that I couldn’t even focus on answering her. The question of my feelings coming up was now not a matter of if but when.

“Sorry, just thinking about stuff, meaning work,” I said, not sure that that was any better. “It’s hard to focus, sorry.”

“It’s OK, we’ve had a lot going on and we’re nearing the end of the dealing period,” she said. “Although I am surprised, usually you’re so good at keeping your focus.”

“Yeah, well, the closer we get, the more I think about it.”

Think about how you’re too Edwin Hunt and not enough Chance Hunt right now, and you know it.

We sat down and I turned on some Chris Rock special on Netflix, but I barely ate and I barely laughed while Layla got a kick out of both the food and the comedy. She laughed her ass off, and while I enjoyed that she found it funny, it just left me thinking that she wouldn’t be laughing her ass off when she discovered how badly her family got screwed in the deal. She’d be laughing even less when she made the obvious connection to the fact that I was the one who had negotiated that deal, even if our lawyers had created the fine line details.

“Chance,” she finally said at one point, going so far as to pause the program. “What’s going on? I know something is bugging you. Just tell me instead of being so distant and coy.”

It was time. It felt right. It felt… ethical.

“The deal you guys have with us, it’s not… it’s not fair to you.”

I spoke as quickly as I could, as if trying to spit poison out of my mouth. Which, in a way, I was—the poison of greed and lust for money that Mr. Hunt had burrowed deep into my skull.

“I was taught by my adoptive father, Mr. Hunt, to take, take, and take. Mr. Burnson more or less did the same. But you guys undervalued your company. Specifically, you failed to forecast future earnings at the rate you could have gotten away with, and the percentage of market share you could acquire you also undersold. You can do so much better than the deal we—I—gave you. Layla, I just… I…”

It didn’t feel right to say “I love you” right there, so I went silent. Layla deserved the chance to respond to what I had just said, the kind of admission that would get me fired at most investment firms but the kind that I felt ethically bound to make if I would say those three words just a short while later.

Layla just sat and stared at me for the longest time. I would have killed for even just a couple of seconds in glancing inside her mind to know what she was thinking. Anyone with any modicum of business sense would have danced their way back to their office, informed their superior, and used the knowledge to their advantage. The person might get fired, but that was a small price to pay—and one that the winner wouldn’t pay—for the gained knowledge.

Hell, even a high schooler would take advantage of it.

But I trusted—perhaps foolishly, but I nevertheless did—Layla that she understood why I was doing this. Or at the very least, if she didn’t, she would not fuck me over.

“Why did you tell me that,” she said.

Her voice sounded weak, as if she knew the truth but hated it. I hated it too, in a way. I knew that the likelihood of heartbreak had increased tenfold by this, but now…

“Because it’s right.”

“Bullshit.”

“Because I love you, damnit.”

Layla gasped and leaned back. I gulped.No turning back now. It’s too late.

“I can’t stand to see you screwed over. I’m not going to screw myself or Burnson, but I don’t want you to lose as you will this deal. Maybe that’s career suicide, I don’t know. But I know that I love you, Layla, and I choose love over business. Edwin Hunt might stab me and hang me on public display if he heard that, but…”

More silence. The genie was out of the bottle. The horse was out of the barn. I was never bringing what I had said back. Frankly, the best case scenario, oddly enough, was for Layla to just quietly change the deal and force Burnson to negotiate down closer to her. But how would that ever happen without him realizing it?