Page 51 of Broken Brothers

I said yes to all of the vegetables and dressings that they had, in part because as much as I hated to admit it, I was curious to see what Layla had said. I hadn’t spoken to her since that Thursday night humiliation, and I had not had any intentions on reaching to her for anything.

As soon as I got the sandwich, which I paid for using some of the cash Morgan had given me, I checked my phone. To my surprise, it was not a particularly short message.

“Chance, I need to start by saying how sorry I am. If you read nothing else, know that what I did was inexcusable. I am sorry.”

Well, it’s a start. I don’t know why she’s so sorry if she felt she had no choice to it.

“There is so much more to me than I ever told you, and I couldn’t tell it to you at the time. There’s so much more to my uncle and me than what I let on. I should have never let you get close. To do so was a disservice to you, but now it’s an even greater disservice because I can’t tell you what’s going on.”

I rolled my eyes. It was a petty reaction, even though Layla wasn’t there. I knew I had to give her a chance to speak and discuss whatever she wanted to, but boy was it hard not to feel toyed with.

“I put myself in this spot and as a result, I fucked you over. If you’re still reading, you should know that I really did care for you. I still care for you. I did what I did because I literally had no choice. The only choice was to do what I did or have everything in my life end. I’m sorry you got caught in the crossfire. I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me.”

I found myself staring at that text for a far longer time than even I had anticipated if I had been overly sappy and sentimental. Perhaps she was being serious. Perhaps there was something to it.

Or maybe this was another trick, another lie, another game she was playing to try and fuck with me some more.

But then again, if she wanted to fuck with me, what would she gain? Her uncle had gotten the best investment deal possible. If she wanted money, she knew I was a Hunt. She just had to go after Morgan. She knew I was adopted. She knew I didn’t have access to a pipeline of money, especially now that I was unemployed and getting supporting income from the Hunts would require more deception and appearances.

Maybe she was genuine… maybe…

But even if she was, for the kind of situation that she was hinting at, did I really want to get involved? Did I really want to stay connected to something that fraught with apparent peril and drama?

I hovered my fingers over the keyboard on my phone, deciding whether or not to respond. More than once, my fingers hit some letters, and I could only hope Layla didn’t see me writing and assume I was going to respond.

By the same token, I multiple times considered just deleting the message entirely and using this as an excuse to end my fraught and unnecessarily dramatic relationship with her. It would suck; it would mean the girl I thought I would fall in love with would be no more.

Instead, in the end, once I had finally finished my sandwich, I did nothing.

If I responded, I didn’t trust myself to stay out of her hair for good and to not say anything hurtful.

If I deleted it, that was closing the door on something that I truly did not want to shut out forever.

So I just said nothing, even though I thought of everything.

23

The next day, it being a Monday, I decided to treat it like a workday. Without a proper office to go to, I found the nearest coffeehouse and set up my laptop to do work.

First, I went through the contract Morgan had sent me much more carefully. I trusted my brother, but you could never be too sure with these contracts. Trust today could just as easily turn into disdain and disgust tomorrow; even if I loved him now, emotions and feelings could change—as Layla had proved. A contract, however, was largely immutable and not subject to human emotions.

Fortunately, everything looked good. I thought of every worst-case scenario, from lawsuits to deaths to hostile takeovers and everything in between, and I could not find a way that Morgan might screw me over. For once in my life, it seemed as if I had not gotten taken advantage of or set up by someone else.

As soon as everything looked good, I signed it electronically and sent it back to Morgan.

Next, I looked in my next email, a potential lead from Morgan.

“Friend of mine looking to receive $250k for 10 percent of the company. Will help her hire a developer team. Number is 212-555-5555. Reach out to her as soon as you can—she’s a star, will have multiple competitors, but we have an in being her friend.”

Right off the bat and we’re going at it, huh?I didn’t even think Morgan had registered Morgan and Chance Holdings yet; we sure as hell didn’t even have a logo or emails yet. This was truly building a space shuttle while the rocket fuel began to ignite beneath us.

I liked it, though. I didn’t even have any time off from quitting Burnson Investments and I already had much higher-level work just the following Monday. No time to waste, I thought as I picked up my phone. I dialed the number and waited for an answer.

“Hello?”

Oh, she’s got a nice voice.

Chance! This is business. Need I remind you what happened the last time you mixed business and pleasure?