“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 like you enjoyed the state you were in.” A faint smirk curled on his lips.
Her hands itched with the aching need to slap all that smugness off his face. “Do you realize what exactly it was that you’ve done? The reporters won’t leave my house. Women keep throwing daggers at me in public and I just lost my job. The hotel management fired me! All because of the scandal you dragged me into!” Her chest heaved with anger.
“Mm, how unfortunate,” he murmured, eyelids lowered in disinterest.
“Unfortunate?” she blinked, eyes widening in disbelief. “You ruined my life!”
“I didn’t ruin you, Amira,” he breathed in a low voice. “You did just that from the start when you decided to declare war on me with your little exposé.”
Her breath caught. “Y-you blacklisted me. You made sure I couldn’t work anywhere—”
“And yet here I am, presenting you with the offer of a lifetime.”
She threw her head back, letting out a sharp, humorless laugh void of even the slightest hint of amusement. “You must think of yourself as some sort of World King, don’t you?”
“Trust me, I wouldn’t be doing this if my reputation weren’t involved.” His brow knitted into a tight frown. Then he took a step closer. “We both have something to benefit from this, Miss Santis. Besides, the media loves this sort of shit. Billionaire bad boy? Scandalous kiss? A hidden lover comes to light?”
“I’m not your lover,” she bit back.
“Oh, but you will be,” he murmured, his rich voice reverberating down her spine. “For the next four months.”
“You murdered my brother, Luca!” she screamed out in rage. “What makes you think I’ll ever want anything to do with a bastard like you?”
“You seem not to yet understand that the situation with Luca Santis was a mistake and purely none of my intentions.”
“Could have fooled me.”
He let out a sigh, almost as if she were stressing him out. Well, if that was the case,Amira mused, good!
“I’ve already told you, Miss Santis,” he continued. “The pay will be handsome, not to mention a restoration to your reputation. Your ex is included in the package.” He turned around, walking off to the wine counter.
Her eyes narrowed. “Nathan.” The son of a bitch had no doubt been digging up her information.
“He’s my cousin, you know.”
“I know.”
Montez grabbed himself a bottle of wine, pouring into two glasses. “Then you’ll also know that he’s going to hate watching you on my arm.”
Her stomach churned, her head screamed no—but her ego, her pride… twisted in the worst, darkest ways—revenge.
“Zero intimacy,” she stated.
“Have it your way.”
“I’ll have my privacy,” she continued.
“In turn, you stay at my residence throughout the period,” he added.
Her eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Why?” He let out a scoff. “To keep a close eye on you of course.”
“You don’t trust me?”
“I’d like to believe the feeling is very mutual.”
“Deal,” she nodded.
He smirked, offering her the second glass of wine in his hand. “Good choice.”
In a few minutes, Amira was already rushing out of the building. She walked out a few blocks before waving down a cab, which drove her the rest of the way home.
Her head wouldn’t stop ringing with the offer Montez had made her. He thought he was smart? She let out a scoff. The son of a bitch had no idea that the only reason she had said yes to his offer was because this was her only opportunity to finally get close to him and gather more incriminating evidence to finally send him behind bars.
Getting close to him was a big chance at achieving her goal. Especially now that the scum had insisted she stay with him. There was no way he was escaping jail this time, and if he still somehow managed to escape, she’d take the law into her own hands and drive a knife through his black heart.
She went to bed that night with a smile spread across her face. He thought she was a fool? He would see about that. Montez De Vitalio wouldn’t know what hit him.
HONKKKKKKKK!!!!!!
Her eyelids flew open the next morning to the loud honking outside her apartment, snatching her abruptly from sleep. What the heck? She pulled the mattress away from her body and rushed to the window with tousled hair, still in her oversized blue Hello Kitty pajamas.
A gasp escaped her lips at the sight of a sleek black Bugatti Centodieci just outside her house. She rubbed her sleepy eyes just to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. Damn, that car was fine! But wait, who was in it?
Two gentlemen in black tuxedos and dark hair slicked back stepped out of the car, and her eyes followed them as they walked up to her front porch.
“Shit.” She cursed as she rushed to the front door. Pulling it open, she caught one man’s finger frozen just before he could reach for the doorbell.
“Miss Santis?” the one on the right asked, raising a brow.
“That’s me. How may I help you?”
“We’re here to pick you up,” he said, handing her his ID, which proved he was some licensed bodyguard.
“What?” Her eyes flickered in confusion. “Where to?”
“The airport. Do not bother getting ready. We wouldn’t want to waste any more time.”
“The airport? No!” She took a step back. “I didn’t consent to this.”
The second man let out a sigh. “We’ve been ordered to bring you along with us at all costs. So we can do this the easy way or…”
Frightened, she swiftly tried to slam the door shut, but these men were obviously trained. One had his leg wedged against the door, preventing her from fully shutting it. She ran inside, but they dashed in with her.
“Ma’am, you need to calm down.”
“Stay the hell away from me!” she screamed, grabbing flower vases and throwing them at them along with every other thing she could find.
“Get her from behind,” she heard one mumble to the other.
Her hair stood on end as fear raked down her spine. Oh goodness, what was happening? Who had sent these men? For all she knew, they could be kidnappers.
Before she could rush out the back door, one of the men appeared in front of her, and as she turned around, she bumped into the second man, who was now taking out a white handkerchief from his pocket. She needed no one to tell her it was loaded with chloroform, and one sniff would knock her unconscious.
“Please. Please,” she pleaded, hands clasped together in fear.
He grabbed her by the arm, pressing the handkerchief against her nose.
“Noooo!!!” she screamed, kicking back as she tried her best not to breathe. But after a few seconds, she couldn’t hold her breath anymore and exhaled, causing her to feel lightheaded instantly. Her legs gave way and he caught her.
As the room began to spin, she heard one of them say into the phone,
“Yes, boss. We’ve got her.”
And then she faded into unconsciousness.
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.