“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 remember the haze in his cold blue eyes, the sharp scent of scotch. She remembered trying to leave but the bastard had her pinned against the desk and kissed her.
“Aaarghhh…!!!” she groaned, smacking her forehead with the heel of her palm in frustration and anger.
A video appeared of him speaking at the press conference and that was when he made the announcement that shook the world.
“She’s my woman.”
Her eyes widened in shock. He said it like a declaration, like he owned her. When really, the slimy bastard used her to save face.
She rushed to the window, pulling the curtains aside to take a peep. The reporters were still there sure enough. Cameras up, microphones raised, and eyes waiting for her to confirm his lie.
“He’s out of his damn mind!” she hissed, pacing in fury. “How could he tell the whole world I’m his girlfriend?”
Yet there it was as the trending headline:
RUTHLESS BILLIONAIRE VITALIO’S SECRET LOVER: Journalist Amira Santis caught with him in a late-night tryst.
Of course the public would go feral. The powerful and untouchable Montez De Vitalio of Vitalio Industries had a girlfriend, and she just so happened to be the woman who exposed his corruption—now sleeping in his bed.
Shit. She was trapped. She had to get out, but not with the press surrounding every inch of her apartment. And so it was, she stayed indoors for five days as the reporters would only leave by dusk only to return again by dawn.
That morning was a Saturday. Grabbing her coat, she rushed down the back stairs of her apartment complex before they could arrive. It was 6 a.m. by the time she arrived at the hotel where she worked. The receptionist wasted no time informing her that the manager had sent for her.
She made her way down the hall and knocked once on her door, waiting for permission before walking in. Bianca sat behind her desk, fingers crossed like the proud snake she was. Just how long would Amira have to put up with her?
“You sent for me?” she asked.
“You’ve been absent for days now. Care to explain yourself?” Bianca cocked a brow.
“My apartment—”
“I called you here because this hotel can’t tolerate negativity,” she cut her off. “And we certainly can’t keep someone who’s in a public scandal that makes us look highly unprofessional in relating with our guests.”
Amira let out a scoff. “It was one kiss and I didn’t even want it.”
Bianca rolled her eyes. “I bet this was your big plan to get back at Nathan with his older cousin. Shameless slut.”
“The only shameless slut here is the one who slept with her best friend’s boyfriend right under my nose,” Amira snapped, and her smile vanished.
Bianca’s face fumed red, but she didn’t say a word. Instead, she pulled out a white envelope from under her desk and handed it to her.
“That’s your final paycheck. You’re fired.”
Leaving the office, Amira dragged her feet back home with the weight of the word pressing against her chest. She could see people starting to throw side glances her way.
The country’s most eligible bachelor was taken. Every young woman was throwing her daggers with their eyes.
She managed to sneak back into her apartment through the back door without the press noticing. She sank into her mattress, arms wrapped around her knees as a tear slipped down her face.
It was at that moment her phone dinged with an I*******m notification—
Montez De Vitalio arrives in Belmare: Business meetings or love reunion?
“That bastard,” she gritted, her hands curling into fists. “It’s time I gave him a piece of my mind.”
She shot to her feet, pulled her jacket over her shoulders, and stormed out of her apartment with one destination in mind—his office. She didn’t care if the security threw her out. One thing was certain: she wasn’t leaving until she saw that bastard.
The moment she arrived at the industry—which was just one of the numerous branches all around the world, she was intercepted by the guards who were all armed to the teeth.
“You can’t go, miss. Not without an appointment,” one of them stood in her way.
“Screw an appointment! I need to see that asshole you work for,” she yelled at the top of her voice, struggling and kicking her feet as they held her back.
“Don’t cause a scene, miss, and leave or we’ll have to use force.”
“Shit! Vitalio! You son of a bitch! Get your ass down here this instant! You animal. VITALIO!!!”
She wouldn’t stop yelling, and a few minutes later, the gate came open and a tall, well-built man walked out in an obsidian luxury suit. His PA—Enzo Ricci.
“What’s going on here?” he turned to both guards with knitted brows.
“We’re sorry, sir. The woman wouldn’t leave.”
“Amira Santis?” he offered her a smile. “You’re right on time. Cuts out all the work for me.”
“What?” Her eyelids fluttered in confusion.
“The Boss would like to see you.”
The Boss. It clicked instantly. Montez De Vitalio was equally anticipating to speak with her. She doubted the scum had anything decent to say.
“Come with me.” Enzo turned his back on the bodyguards who had let go of her arms. She followed him inside the building, through endless floors on the elevator until they finally reached the top floor where his office was.
Enzo poked his head through the door. “Boss? She’s here.”
“Let her in.”
She heard Montez’s voice from inside, and Enzo held the door wide open for her. As she walked in, the door shut behind her immediately with a click. A loud gasp erupted from her lungs as she realized what a dangerous position she had placed herself in. Did he lock her in? She reached out for the knob in a fit of panic. A low chuckle from behind pulled her to a halt.
Montez was leaning against his massive window like a damn painting. Both hands in his pockets, with sleeves rolled up and one leg in front of the other. His height was model eligible anytime, any day.
“If you were so scared that I’d murder you, why come in here in the first place?” he murmured, with a rich, deep voice that sent reverberating chills down her spine.
She turned around, realizing her foolishness. Of course he wouldn’t kill her. Not with the mess he was already in. It would only pull him deeper in the mud.
“Well,” his voice was as smooth as aged red wine, “did you enjoy your five days of fame? Or was it six?”
“You ruined me!” she hissed. “You made me lose everything and now you’ve dragged me into your mess.“
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet with you again, Miss Santis,” he said, unfazed. “Now you can focus on moving in with me.”
“What?!” Her eyes widened at his level of audacity. “You must be out of your damn mind for someone who ruined my career and murdered my brother.”
“You must not understand the gravity of the situation we’re both in.” He moved away from the window, striding up to her. “Both our reputations are at stake here. Believe me when I say, I don’t like this anymore than you won’t.” He let out a low sigh. “But it’s the only way.”
“What do you mean?” She could hear her heart racing inside her chest.
He lifted her chin, pinning his burning gaze on her. “Be my woman.”
“What?!”
“Four months. Keep quiet, play the damn role and in return, I fix your reputation and pay you off for your services.” He leaned down and whispered in a voice that sent shivers down her spine. “And of course, get back at your ex as a bonus.”
Her eyes flickered wide. “How do you know about—?”
Standing to his full height, Montez’s eyelids hooded in a bored frown as he locked dead serious eyes with her.
“Do we have a deal, Miss Santis?”
The courtroom was suffocatingly silent, the kind of silence that seemed to tighten around the chest and steal every breath. Today was the final hearing where judgment would finally be made. The air smelled of wood polish and ink, heavy with the anticipation of what was to come. Amira sat tall in the second row, her black suit crisp, and her hair pinned neatly at the nape of her neck as two of her guards stood by the door. She forced her face to remain calm even though her pulse hammered in her throat. Beside her, Enzo leaned forward, his dark eyes tracking every flicker of movement at the front. In the absence of Montez, his presence had become a constant in the weeks of hearings. Loyal, protective, and never once letting her walk into the courtroom without his support. On the other side of the aisle sat the defendants. Alessandro, expressionless in his navy suit, as though he still bel
The week after the bloody confrontation outside the first gala passed in a blur of headlines, hospital visits, and whispered speculation. Amira and Montez refused to let the chaos tear them apart. Instead, they clung tighter. The world saw them together again, arriving hand in hand, shielding each other from every storm. Tonight, Montez was hosting a second high-profile gala at the glass-domed Solara Grand, a dazzling spectacle designed to calm the board and reassure shareholders that his empire remained unshaken. Glittering chandeliers bathed the hall in golden light. Cameramen and journalists crowded the red carpet, their flashes like a constant barrage. Amira stepped out of the sleek black car in a gown of midnight silk, her hand laced with Montez’s. She had chosen simplicity over extravagance, her hair swept back, and her eyes lined with purpose. Montez followed, commanding i
The chaos of the gala bled into the night air. Guests stumbled out in clusters, their voices pitched in alarm as rumors twisted with every breath. Camera flashes flickered like lightning, reporters kept screaming out questions, while security scrambled to contain the uproar inside. Yet outside, in the shadows beyond the grand marble steps, a darker story unfolded. Amira had slipped away, desperate for a moment of air. The crowd, the lights, and the confrontation were already weighing on her. She pulled her coat tighter against the cold night and hurried down the steps, her heels clicking sharply. Her mission here was done so she had no reason to stay or even— That was when a hand snatched her arm, yanking her out of her path and thoughts. She gasped in fright. “Going somewhere, Amira?” Nathan’s voice was a hiss in her ear. She jerked, eyes wide. “Let m
The gala glittered beneath chandeliers dripping with crystals, their light refracting into shards across the marble floor. The Vitalio Mansion’s ballroom had been transformed into a spectacle of wealth and control. Waiters floated past with trays of champagne, photographers clicked relentlessly at every corner, and the air buzzed with money, ambition, and something else: expectation. For Montez, this night was supposed to restore his empire’s dignity. Suits whispered of stability, of contracts renewed and investors reassured. Yet beneath his immaculate tuxedo and cool demeanor, his gut was taut as a wire. He knew his enemies would not waste such an opportunity. On the far side of the room, Nathan leaned against the bar in a tailored black suit, a glass of scotch swirling in his hand. His smile was predatory as he watched Montez exchange pleasantries with shareholders. A
Amira hadn’t disappeared into her small apartment to lick her wounds. At least, not entirely. She had chosen silence for the cameras and the world, but inside those walls she worked, her mind sharp, and her instincts firing again. She might have been dragged through disgrace in the boardroom, but her training as a journalist wasn’t dead. If Nathan and Alessandro thought she would fold and vanish, they were wrong. Her first step was reaching out to the only colleague she still trusted, someone who had always valued truth over convenience. Late one evening, she sat in a café tucked into a quiet street, the glow of the streetlamps casting long shadows across the pavement. She looked up as the door opened and a woman in a navy trench coat stepped inside. “Elena,” Amira greeted softly, standing to hug her. Elena pulled back with a worried look. “You shouldn’t have asked me
After that day, Amira left the city like a ghost fleeing the ruins of a burned house. No goodbyes. No lingering looks. Just silence. The apartment she rented was small, tucked away in a quiet neighborhood where no one asked questions. It was the opposite of everything Montez represented: modest furniture, soft light, a faint smell of lavender. She filled her days with the basics of walking to the grocery shop, buying fresh fruit, and cooking small meals she rarely finished. Sometimes she lingered at the bookstore, running her hands over the covers of baby books she wasn’t sure she had the courage to buy. Her evenings ended curled up on the worn sofa, staring at her phone, willing it to light up with a message from him. It never did. What she didn’t know was that she was never alone. Montez’s man followed her every step, a shadow wrapped in ordinary clothes.