Deal

Chapter 5 - Deal

Gia opened the door.

The moment she saw him, her expression changed. Whatever small smile had been there vanished, replaced by naked disgust. Her eyes moved over his bandaged cheek, the stiff way he stood, then settled on his face as if she had found something rotten outside her apartment.

She started to shut the door.

Torin’s hand shot out and caught it before it could close. His palm stopped against the edge with a solid thud.

Gia’s eyes narrowed.

“Listen first.”

“What is it?” she snapped, keeping one hand on the door as though she might still slam it in his face.

Torin put on the smile.

It was the clean, harmless smile he had learned years ago—the one salesmen wore when they already knew the customer was halfway sold. Warm enough to lower a guard. Small enough not to look desperate.

“I watched your channel,” he said. “I’ve got a real good deal for you. You can get famous fast.”

Her lip curled. The look in her eyes said insect. “You?” She gave a short, humorless laugh. “Have a deal for me?”

Torin didn't react. He kept his voice soft, almost respectful, as though he were asking for a favor instead of standing in her doorway after everything that had happened.

“At least hear it.”

Gia rolled her eyes and shifted her weight against the door. “What. Tell me.”

Torin let out a quiet breath and pointed toward his injured leg. “My leg’s killing me. Let me sit for a minute.”

He scratched the back of his head, making himself look almost embarrassed by the request. For a moment she just stared at him.

Then her gaze dropped to the bandage around his knee. She sighed deeply, the kind of sigh meant to make it clear she was doing him a favor.

“Huh. Fine, Come in.” She pulled the door wider. Torin lowered his hand from the frame and stepped inside.

The place hit him like a different world. The living room was wide and open, with floor-to-ceiling glass looking out over the dark sea. White furniture filled the space, spotless and expensive, still carrying the faint smell of new fabric and polish. In one corner, several cameras, tripods, ring lights, and equipment cases were stacked neatly together. Everything about the apartment looked soft, clean, and rich. His own apartment was barely holding itself together, and yet this was the only unit in it that actually looked like money.

Torin didn't stare. He walked to the nearest sofa, lowered himself carefully onto it, and let his injured leg stretch out slightly. The movement still hurt, but at least he didn't have to keep his weight on it. Gia dropped onto the sofa across from him and immediately crossed her arms, watching him with open impatience.

“Speak. If you waste my time…” Her eyes flicked toward his bad leg, and a small mocking smile appeared. “You've already watched the trailer.”

Torin leaned forward a little, resting his forearms on his knees. “Make a series around me.”

Gia shot up so quickly that the sofa creaked beneath her. “Get out, fucker.” She pointed hard toward the door, her eyebrows drawn together in disbelief. Torin didn't move. “You could hit a million subscribers easy.”

She froze for half a second. The anger on her face didn't disappear, but something else slipped through it, a brief flash of interest. She walked closer and stopped in front of him, folding her hands beneath her chest as she studied him. Her weight shifted onto one leg while she looked down at him.

“How? Explain or leave. If you're wasting my time.”

Torin kept his voice even. “I've been the hot topic for three years. Six months ago, my parents lynched themselves in front of the whole country. I was everywhere. People haven't forgotten that.”

He watched her face carefully before continuing. “If you start a series about the victim now, about how he's still broken and trying to put himself back together, and you're the one spending time with him, helping him climb out of the trauma, people will eat that shit up. You can do podcasts, Interviews, Updates basically the whole journey. Broken guy coming back because of you. They won't just watch it; rather, they'll want to see what happens next.”

Gia didn't answer.

The room suddenly felt much quieter, the low music from somewhere in the apartment barely audible beneath the silence.

Torin waited, watching the calculation slowly replace the disgust in her eyes.

Gia sat back down slowly. Her eyes drifted past him, no longer focused on his face. Torin watched the change happen almost in real time. He could practically see the numbers moving behind her eyes—the views, the subscribers, the sponsorships, the brand deals. For a brief second, the expression on her face said exactly what she was thinking: why the fuck didn't I think of this myself? She caught herself and quickly smoothed it away.

“Deal,” she said.

Torin shook his head once. “I want something too.”

“What?”

“My leg fixed. I want you to pay for a proper rehab in the best clinic of the city. And I can't stay in my place anymore, so I live here.”

Her expression hardened immediately. “Clinic is fine but, living with me? Hell No.”

Torin let his shoulders sink. He lowered his gaze and made his hands tremble slightly against his knees, just enough to make the weakness believable. When he spoke again, he made his voice smaller.

“I need protection. Those guys… I don't know what they'll do next so, I'm scared.” He swallowed and glanced toward the door. “Your apartment is the safest place in the whole building. Please.”

Gia stared at him for several seconds. Her eyes moved over the trembling hands, the stitched cheek, the stiff leg stretched awkwardly in front of him. The man sitting on her sofa looked less like the dangerous landlord everyone had been talking about and more like someone who had been beaten down so badly he no longer knew how to protect himself.

Harmless.

A walking content machine who needed her.

She stood and walked over until she was right in front of him. Torin looked up at her, keeping his face carefully uncertain.

“Don't worry,” she said. “I'll protect you.”

She held his gaze for a moment, then gave a small nod as if she had already made the decision.

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