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“Zoey,” I say, clutching my bag, wishing Magnus were here, “is my name. Not babe.”
“It’s been a quick minute.” He takes a step towards me like I’m going to melt on him now. And quick minute? More like a quick number of years, but I keep that to myself.
“I’m actually busy, and I’m going to assume this isn’t a social call.”
“It can be both.” He gestures to the store. “I’m here with a proposition. I know Sinclair’s buying up everything and has a big project for this block, and I also know you’re the one in the way. For a price, I can make you so much money, and—”
“I’m going to stop you there. I’m not interested.”
Bronn’s gaze slides past me and his eyes narrow. “And I see why.”
“What are you talking about?” I turn and see Magnus standing there. He breathes in and starts coming towards us slowly.
Bronn nods with his chin. “You already sold. To Magnus Sinclair.”
The entire bottom drops out of my world.
My lips are numb as I try to form words, but I can’t.
“Of course you did. Magnus Sinclair gets everything.”
I stare at Magnus. It’s Simpson. But then I lock eyes with him.
EMS.
Edward Sinclair.
Edward Magnus Sinclair.
That’s what I’m betting.
I can’t breathe. I can’t think.
“Zoey.”
It’s the way Magnus says my name that does it.
“Oh, God. You’re him. Edward Sinclair.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Magnus
Fuck.
My entire world rocks and not in the good way. The expression on Zoey’s face rips a hole inside me, one so large I don’t know how the hell I can heal it.
“Zoey? Are you seeing this guy? It’s gotta be a scam. He’s out of your league.”
My gaze snaps to Bronn and deadly fury stalks through my veins. “Get the fuck out of here, Lichtenfeld. You know exactly zero.”
“Yeah, right, I’m not going anywhere.”
My hand balls into a fist. I’m ready to punch the asshole’s lights out. Not because he gave me away, although that’s a good reason—Zoey would have found out eventually, even if my plan tonight had worked out—but because he actually dared say she wasn’t good enough.
Zoey Smith is better than me and Bronn put together. She’s better than most people I’ve met and I already feel like dirt for what I have to do. This dickwad doesn’t need to make things worse by making her feel worse.
A voice in the back of my head says I’ve done that myself, but I ignore it.
