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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Did I make a mistake two days ago? Yes. Do I regret said mistake? No, I don't think so. Did I cheat on Tom? Yes. Do I love Tom? No. Maybe. I don't know. It's complicated.
Look, if anyone were in my shoes, I think they'd do what I did. A hot French man, angry, storming into your office in a full suit, smelling amazing with tattoos peeking out—who could resist that? Just like I couldn't help myself right now.
That's why I'm jumping out of my Ferrari and walking up the path to Bianchi Elite HQ to visit him in his office. Partly because we need to talk about the designs, but also because... well, why not?
I was never planning on having sex again after I escaped the Mexicans. It just didn't appeal to me anymore. But over the past few weeks, I've been thinking about it—just not with Tom. Alessio's been creeping into my thoughts more and more. I even tried to initiate it with Tom after visiting Alessio, but I backed out at the last second. He didn't push it, but I could tell he was annoyed. Still, he left it alone.
Sitting there with Alessio's hands on me, though, brought back a spark I thought I'd lost a long time ago.
I make my way into the lift, pressing the button for the 65th floor, the top floor of Bianchi Elite HQ. I glance at my outfit—cute and strategic. A white sleeveless turtleneck with no bra, so everything is visible under the right light. A black skirt that hugs my curves, and knee-high boots. I feel good, sexy, and confident.
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The elevator pings, and I step out. I walk toward the receptionist, a redhead smacking her gum behind the desk.
"I have an appointment with Alessio," I say.
She raises an eyebrow at me, unimpressed. "And who are you?"
"Valentina," I respond, keeping my voice steady.
She gives me a once-over and then, with a dismissive tone, says, "No, sorry. You don't have an appointment." She snaps her gum again, leaning back in her chair, before adding, "And even if you did, Alessio wouldn't sleep with someone like you anyway."
"What did you just say to me?" I ask, leaning over the desk, my voice low but dangerous.
The redhead doesn't even flinch. "You're not his type," she says confidently, crossing her arms.
