Page 1 of Break My Heart

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DIVEBOMB: LATE, AGGRESSIVE BRAKING MOVE TO PASS INTO A CORNER

Five Months Ago

“Look, she’s perfect for me, but this sport? It doesn’t make space for people who don’t command rooms.” Leo pauses before continuing, and his voice tightens with conflict. “I love Christin, but she’d disappear on the circuit.”

I had just been about to enter the lounge in the home I inherited from my mother’s family with a pot of tea, but my footsteps falter when I overhear an outraged voice spit, “What in the actual fuck is wrong with you?”

My brain can’t connect the words coming out of Leo’s mouth with the man who made love to me with so much tenderness this morning. Then I consider the words he used.

Disappear? On a Formula One circuit?

I scoff to myself, If he only knew.

Before devastation breaks me, fury takes over. What gives him the right to tell me he loves me just this morning before dismantling me when he thinks I can’t overhear him?

My time with Leo has been nothing short of a whirlwind. When we first met six months ago at a dive bar in New York City, I found out that night that he was a Formula One driver. Since I understand his “here today, across the world tomorrow” lifestyle, nothing between us started with the intention of becoming serious. We’d meet up when we were both in the city.

Months into our sexuationship, he revealed he was feeling more for me than just a casual hookup. When he did, I thought that meant he trusted and cared for me enough to tell me who he really was. I thought that night was a milestone—transitioning us into an actual relationship.

Well, you thought it was a relationship.

Leo’s lack of respect shows he obviously doesn’t.

The audacity of him saying these words in my home is almost impressive. Yet, here I am, holding a porcelain teapot because—according to Leo, “You Americans don’t know how to brew a proper cup.”

So, I took the time to learn because that’s what I do. I make adjustments, improvements. Despite knowing I could live on my varying inheritances, I’ve made one hell of a living doing that very thing.

Before I confront the man wasting space in my home and my life, I glance around the refined architectural details of my country home. Over the course of the last few months, every time Leo has walked through the door, he’s murmured, “This place is a slice of paradise.”

Paradise might have been found, but it was about to be lost again.

Just as I’m about to throw open the mahogany slider, I pause when I recognize the voice of the man he’s speaking with—his best friend, Dario Morretti. Dario’s voice drips with blatant acid. “Your upper-crust upbringing is really shining through.”

“Dario…”

“You can’t be serious!”

Nudging the door open quietly, I hear Leo exhale. I watch as he tips his head back and scrubs a hand over his face. “I love her, Dario.”

“How can you spew such bullshit then?”

Leo frowns. “This isn’t personal. I can’t imagine she’d take it that way. Christin is very analytical.”

How could I not? A gasp almost escapes, but I catch myself in time. Instead, I take a deep breath before schooling my features as I push the door open fully. Leo’s face lights up when he sees what I’m carrying. Deliberately, I place it as far as I can out of reach before addressing Dario. Leo frowns as I hold his gaze. “Thanks for being a decent guy, Dario. I wish we could have met.”

“Me too, Christin.”

“Also, let me assure you, I take what he said personally.”

The color drains from Leo’s face. His expression flickers—surprise, then alarm. In the void of his silence, Dario’s voice comes through clearly. “Christin, I apologize for even listening to this bullshit.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to endure it a lot more frequently than you anticipated since I’m not going to be around to hear his problems.”

Leo’s jaw clenches at my words. Then he snaps out to Dario, “I’ve got to go.” He reaches over and presses the red X without another word, leaving us in the room staring at one another silently.

The sharp click of my tongue cuts through the air, but Leo remains frozen. He’s not making any effort to either retract his words or apologize for them. I break the silence by ordering, “First, get out of my chair.”