Book two of 'The Vengeance Duology'
Five years ago, the lads and I made the biggest mistake of our lives-a reckless decision that shattered everything.
We destroyed what mattered most, but my deepest regret is how much I hurt her.
Every moment of pa...
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It's been a week since the awards show, and I haven't heard from any of the boys, which is a bit of a surprise. I was half-expecting one of them to show up at my home or workplace, but there's been nothing.
I'm currently in a bar, waiting for Tom. He's my boyfriend, and we've been together for nearly a year now. Tom is deeply in love with me, but I can't say I feel the same. I care for him, and I really like him, but I'm not in love with him. It's a complicated situation, but I'm here, hoping to enjoy the evening while we figure things out.
I swirl the olive in my martini glass, the clear liquid catching the light. Pulling out my phone, I snap a few pictures of the drink and post them to my story. Just as I'm about to put my phone away, I hear someone clear their throat right in front of me.
I look up, and to my surprise, it's Alessio standing in front of me. I quickly put on my fake smile, masking the anger that bubbles beneath the surface. It's better to keep my true feelings hidden; I can't risk them figuring out who I really am. I'll play the part, befriend them slowly, and then, when the time is right, strike from behind.
"Mr. Bianchi, what are you doing here?" I ask, forcing a pleasant tone into my voice.
"Your assistant told me you were here," he replies.
"And is there a reason you've been looking for me? I'm quite busy," I say, trying to keep my irritation in check.
"I wanted to catch up with you. I mean, it's been five years," he says, offering a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.
"I don't think there's much to catch up on," I reply, my voice steady despite the sting of my own admission. "You broke my heart, I left, and now I'm running an empire." The directness of my words feels raw, but I push through, determined not to show any vulnerability.
"Where have you been these past five years?" he asks, almost sadly. "I mean, we looked for you, and you disappeared off the face of the earth."
I shrug, sipping on my martini. "You wrote in your letter that you never wanted to see me again, so I did just that."
His eyes scan my body, and I catch them lingering on the scar visible through the slit of my dress. I cross my legs, hoping he doesn't say anything. The scars from the Russian mafia don't bother me, but the ones from the Mexican mafia still haunt me, deeply.
He looks at me, a mix of curiosity and concern in his gaze, as if he wants to ask a million questions. Finally, he says, "Your father told us you were dead."
"I know," I reply, trying to keep my voice steady. "I told him to."
"Ale," he says, his tone softer now.
I correct him, "Valentina."
"Sorry, Valentina," he says, his expression earnest. "We need to talk about everything that happened. Your friends miss you. Your brothers miss you..." He pauses, looking at me with an intensity that makes my heart race. "I miss you."
