CHANCE | ✔

18| Chance

Republishing because Chance's POV has been extended. Also, some parts have been changed (they contribute to the storyline), so if you've already read this when I published it previously, skim through so that you can read the changes and additions (additions start from: I play cards...).

Chapter 17 has been republished with an extended version of Callista's POV if you haven't checked yet (I've cut out Callista's POV from this chapter and included it in the previous one, skim through to see if you've read it or not). 

This chapter is dedicated to every reader who reads but doesn't vote 
:( 

A/N: I've drafted a prequel for CHANCE titled LORENZO, but I don't know whether to write both at once or complete CHANCE and then start on LORENZO or stop writing CHANCE altogether and complete LORENZO first because: 

If you read LORENZO (Book #0) first and then CHANCE (Book #1) you'll have more insight into other characters, you'll know who they are, what they're doing, and you'll be like wtf how did we end up here, but it'll spoil the second half of CHANCE (not that much but there's a lot of character crossover so yeah). 

If you read CHANCE first and then LORENZO, it's just going to be a lot of information dump in the second half of the book (don't worry I'll make it dramatic, [hopefully]), and it'll spoil the "is it over?" part of LORENZO. 

Tell me what to do. 

Have a wonderful read <3 

I want to k i _ _ you (answers may vary).  

Capernoited 
(adj.) peevish; tipsy or slightly intoxicated 

Tuesday — September 5, 2023 

I've never been so torn over a girl. 

One second I'm trying to strangle her and the next I'm flipping her skirt up and micrometers away from tongue fucking her cunt. 

I'd tasted pussy before, but I'd never physically salivated at the thought. It turned me on, but that was the extent of it. 

I'd only tasted the arousal seeping through her panties. Hadn't yet nipped at her clit, hadn't yet lapped up every last drop of a release only I could provide— 

And— 

I'm fucking brainless. Case in point. 

I haven't even asked her why she's back in town, how long she's staying. Maybe her mother divorced that Canadian dude and came running back into Marcel Huxley's conceited arms. 

I'll ask the West girl to do a bit of digging. She's got her claws deep in the not-so-legal side of the internet. I could look for some OSINT on my own but why bother when you have people do it for you. 

I slam the bottle of Vermouth on my mattress, and drops of wine from the sort-of-empty bottle spill onto my sheets. 

I hate this shit. No buzz at all. 

I (try to) read the label. Golden letters branding a black label. I catch only a few readable words. 

Aperitivo. 

Specialità. 

And inside a gold border VECCHIO. 

Which fucking language is this. I read Specialità again. French, probably. Mom loves France. Fucking cat crap.