There it is—the flicker in his eyes, the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth that tells me I’ve hit the mark.

His laughter is a rich, indulgent sound that grates against my nerves. “So what? You think Sebring would care? Hate to break it to you, Miss Steel, but he’s moved on.”

My stomach drops, but I do my best to not let it show. “Moved on?”

Tyson nods, his smirk widening, like he’s enjoying this far too much. “Heard through the grapevine he’s in a serious relationship. Lucky bastard found the one. He’ll be marrying her any day now.”

The one.

He’ll be marrying her any day now.

It takes every ounce of willpower not to react, not to let the sharp stab of pain show on my face. Instead, I force out a laugh that sounds hollow even to my own ears. “Good for him.”

Tyson watches me with something that almost looks like amusement. “Alex is all about marriage. Family. Stability. He’s getting exactly what he wants… again. He’s always been pretty good at that––getting what he wants.”

A lump rises in my throat, and I swallow hard, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much his words hurt.

“Look, Miss Steel. There’s no scenario where taking this job would hurt Alex. You aren’t a thought in his mind anymore.” He waves a hand in a dismissive manner. “This is business. That’s all.”

I nod, but deep down, my heart is splintering. “Right. Business is business.”

A sharp ache settles in my chest, heavy and unrelenting.

You aren’t a thought in his mind anymore.

It shouldn’t hurt this much. I should have been prepared for this—for the possibility that Alex wouldn’t cling to the wreckage of what we had the way I have. But hearing it spoken aloud, in such a blunt manner, makes it real in a way I wasn’t ready for.

“Good for him,” I say a second time, but the words taste bitter, like regret and humiliation.

Alex doesn’t care about me. Maybe he never did. Because how else could he move on this fast? How could he replace me with such ease, slipping into someone else’s life––and bed––like I was nothing more than a passing fling?

A fool. That’s what I am. A complete and utter fool.

Love is a foolish game. Play foolish games and win foolish prizes. And a broken heart is the fool’s ultimate prize.

And damn, did I win big.

My grip on my pen tightens until my knuckles ache.

I won’t let Tyson McRae see me crumble. I won’t allow him to see he’s struck a nerve.

Smoothing my features into a practiced mask of indifference, I sit up straighter and force a smile. “I wish him nothing but the best.”