“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?”
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