Eyes wide in shock, Amira stared at the grotesque scene unfolding before her. Bianca whimpered and buried her face in the pillow like her shame mattered now, but Nathan? That son of a bitch didn’t stop. He looked at Amira while still fucking her best friend, annoyed rather than shocked.
“NATHAN!” Amira choked out, her voice cracking as she clutched painfully at her purse.
That was when he finally pulled out of Bianca and stood like she was the one interrupting his evening, leaving his shaft dangling like the pendulum on Big Ben.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Amira?” he snapped, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist.
“I—what? You told me to come home,” she whispered, mascara already mixing with her tears.
He scoffed. “Too bad you got the message early. Now leave.”
She blinked, taking a shaky step back as Bianca smirked in triumph. “Leave?” Her heart cracked open. How blind had she been? These two had been having an affair right under her nose. “What did I ever do to you two to betray me like this?!”
“You’re a mess, Amira. Always have been,” Nathan answered without blinking. “You pushed me away with your goddamn walls of celibacy.” His tone sharpened. “You never let me touch you. You wanted a lover but gave me nothing in return. I’m a man, goddamn it!”
Her jaw dropped. “So you slept with my best friend? And on my birthday too? You animal!” she yelled, her chest squeezing from the pain.
He snorted, unfazed. “At least Bianca knows how to have fun. She doesn’t treat intimacy like a business transaction. That’s what a man needs. That’s… how you keep your man. And apparently, you’re too much of a prude to ever be reliable.”
Before she realized what she was doing, she landed a swift slap across his cheek, but it did nothing to soothe the inferno of rage consuming her. “Fuck you!” she breathed.
He stepped forward, towering furiously over her. “No. Fuck you, Amira. You think you’re some noble warrior exposing evil? You’re a ticking bomb and everyone around you pays the price. Your parents, your brother and now me.”
His words pierced her heart like a serrated knife twisting deeper and deeper. The next thing she knew, he had grabbed her wrist and was dragging her toward the front door.
“You don’t live here anymore,” he growled, yanking her across the threshold. “Go cry in the rain like the tragic little movie star you think you are.”
“Nathan—!”
He shoved her out so hard her elbow cracked against the stair rail. Her knee slammed into concrete, and the door slammed behind her.
Amira sat there in the storm, soaked and shaking, raging her heart out in animalistic sobs. The memories came crashing in—her brother’s death at the hands of a murderer, her career ended by injustice, and now, the last person she thought she could count on had thrown her out like she was nothing.
Nathan hadn’t just been a boyfriend. He had been family. The one person who knew the hell she’d clawed her way out of. The clubs, the pole—dancing under the lecherous gaze of perverted men just to keep the lights on.
She couldn’t go back to that life. No. Not again. Gritting her teeth, Amira stood up, gathering the shattered pieces of her dignity and making a silent vow to start over.
That night, back in her apartment, she curled into the sheets, doing her best to cling to the last thread of her sanity.
The next morning, she woke up a mess. Out of habit, her eyes flicked toward her phone again and again. Only to realize what she was doing and scold herself.
It had been Nathan’s routine to bombard her with morning texts. Now, the silence was louder than anything.
Just days ago, the court had ruled Montez De Vitalio innocent of the crimes she accused him of. Including her brother’s murder. Even though she’d brought concrete evidence. But what did truth matter to a man that powerful?
He had destroyed her career overnight to teach her a lesson. And now, thanks to him, she was back on the streets, hunting for a job. Days passed and rejections stacked up until one day, someone finally said yes.
She’d been accepted at The Gilded Swan, Belmare’s most famous hotel as a room attendant. What a fall from grace. But at least it wasn’t the club.
“Good morning, ma’am,” Amira greeted politely as she stepped into the manager’s office.
“Please have a seat,” said a slender woman, her red lipstick smeared across her filler-plumped lips as she gestured to the chair opposite her desk.
Amira froze. “B—Bianca?”
“Oh, how the mighty have fallen.” Bianca smirked, her glee obvious.
“To think you were my friend…” Amira’s hands curled into fists at her sides, fury burning through her veins.
“Do you want this job or not?” Bianca raised an eyebrow, arms crossed.
Swallowing her pride like acid, Amira to her seat. “That’s what I thought. Miss Amira Santis?” Bianca’s voice shifted into professional mode, like she had never known her.
“Yes, ma’am. That’s me.” Amira forced a tight smile, praying for the meeting to end. Why so much protocol for a job that didn’t even earn a quarter of her old salary as a journalist?
“Your job is simple. Even a six-year-old could do it,” Bianca said in a sour tone. “Ensure the rooms are cleaned and arranged after every checkout. Or sometimes, if the guest leaves for a walk or dines at the in-house restaurant.”
She continued coldly, “You’re expected to have their bed made and sheets changed before they return.”
Outwardly, Amira gave her brightest, fakest smile. “I understand, ma’am.”
“You’re hired. You can begin working immediately—”
The door creaked open and Bianca’s eyes lit up. “Oh baby you’re here!” She exclaimed in glee.
Amira turned and immediately, her heart dropped into her stomach.
Oh, shit. It was him. Nathan.
Amira couldn’t tell for how long she had been unconscious, but the next time her eyelids flew open, she realized, much to her surprise, that instead of waking up in a cold, dark, stinking cell where most kidnappers kept their victims, she was lying back in the soft leather seat of an… airplane? As she tried to grasp her head around the situation, the door opened and in walked the devilish tycoon holding a bottle of water. He had his black sleeves rolled to his elbows, giving a good glance of his tattoos inked into both arms and all the way up his neck. Her eyes narrowed in rage. She should have known it was him. Montez De Vitalio. All six foot seven of him. Only he would pull such a stunt as this. “What’s the heck is going on?” she growled, pushing the soft mattress away from her. An action she instantly regretted. That fabric was pretty comfortable. “Why have you kidnapped me?” “Kidnap you? Now, don’t be delusional.” A
“Do we have a deal, Miss Santis?” The offer caused an awful ringing in Amira’s ears. This man must be so full of himself he’d lost his damn mind! “Wh-what are you saying?” she squeaked loudly, taking an unconscious step back in horror. “Let’s not act like kids here. It’s really simple.” He crossed both arms, pinning his gaze on her distraught-looking face. “You call that simple?” “It is, unless you choose to make a fuss. Just four months.” He shrugged. “All the time we need to convince the world that I didn’t take advantage of you and you weren’t some cheap slut that very night. You move in with me, pretend to be my girlfriend and after four months we pretend a break up.” “I’m not a slut!” Her fists clenched, fuming. How dare he use such a term with her? “You did kiss me after all,” he said, ever so smoothly. “You trapped me, you scum!” “Seemed to me l
“Miss Santis! Miss Santis! Just a statement please!” The sound of Amira’s name being screamed nonstop from her front porch had become a sick alarm clock. “What the hell is going on?” she muttered under her breath. She took out her phone, scrolling through the media for any latest information. Her stomach twisted as a picture of them surfaced. His hand grasped onto her hair as his lips crushed hungrily against hers in that dimly lit VIP suite at the hotel. That damned night. She had been doing her rounds as usual. Changing the suites’ linens. She had no idea the occupant of the VIP suite had returned but it was already too late. The bathroom door came open and there he was. The one man she hated to death. Montez De Vitalio. Half-naked, dripping, and barefooted. Along with that goddamned arrogance that still clung to him like an expensive cologne even though he was drunk. She could still r
By the next morning, the events of the previous night were already forgotten. He didn’t even spare the moment a second’s thought. To him, it was a mistake that never happened. Enzo had arrived to inform him that the car was waiting to take them to the airport so they could return in time for the press conference the next day. “Is something wrong, Montez?” Enzo addressed him informally as they both got settled into the backseat of the car. Aside from being his PA, Enzo was a friend Montez could trust. But Montez’s mind kept slipping back to last night. The way he had claimed her lips with such reckless abandon. Screw it! He felt like beating himself to a pulp. Might just hire someone to do the damn job for him. Why couldn’t it be someone else? Anyone but her! “Nothing,” he responded, uncurling his fisted hands as he tried to relax, but his furrowed brows gave him away all the same. “You don’t look o
“Those fucking bastards!” Montez De Vitalio spat through gritted teeth, slamming the door behind him with a force that echoed like a slap. Enzo Ricci, his PA and long-time friend, hastened his steps to keep up with him. Montez’s jaw flexed, hand curling into fists. The sharp click of his custom Italian shoes reverberated across the marble floor as he sprinted toward the valet. Fury rolled off his shoulders in waves. Three deals rejected! In the space of one goddamn week and all because of her. Every investor he spoke with had opted out of their business dealings, citing his recent involvement in court with that pesky little journalist. It was infuriating. Outside, his bodyguard held the door to the backseat open, and Montez slid into the black Lamborghini Aventador, the leather interior welcoming him like a lover who demanded no explanations. Enzo joined him a moment later, clicking his seatbelt ever cautiously, as alw
Eyes wide in shock, Amira stared at the grotesque scene unfolding before her. Bianca whimpered and buried her face in the pillow like her shame mattered now, but Nathan? That son of a bitch didn’t stop. He looked at Amira while still fucking her best friend, annoyed rather than shocked. “NATHAN!” Amira choked out, her voice cracking as she clutched painfully at her purse. That was when he finally pulled out of Bianca and stood like she was the one interrupting his evening, leaving his shaft dangling like the pendulum on Big Ben. “What the fuck are you doing here, Amira?” he snapped, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist. “I—what? You told me to come home,” she whispered, mascara already mixing with her tears. He scoffed. “Too bad you got the message early. Now leave.” She blinked, taking a shaky step back as Bianca smirked in triumph. “Leave?” Her heart cracked open. How