Brianna

* * * One year later

“How do you like your cocktail, ma’am?” the cute waiter dressed only in brief shorts and a tight-as-hell tank top inquires.

I try not to react as I feel his gaze wash over my body draped only in a red two-piece bikini outfit.

“Just a gin and tonic would be lovely, thank you,” I reply.

I feel his breath in my ear when he says, “Coming right up, miss.”

Smiling to myself, I relax back on the lounging chair, basking in the Hawaii sun as the world around me shimmers and shines.

I always thought divorcing Nico would be the end of everything. I always thought of him as someone that was supposed to give my life some kind of meaning. But more than one year after our divorce and I am living the best life I could ever live.

Divorce from Nico isn’t nearly like what I envisioned.

For starters, it didn’t turn me to a flimsy no-name peasant I thought it would. Instead it gave me a different kind of confidence I never knew I had. It set me free to fly, and now I am the sole owner of a quickly rising beverage company. It made me see the man for what he really is – a cold-hearted unlovable man who could only afford to show affection to his red-haired mistress and my sister – and it also made me see my marriage for what it really was – a contracted sham.

So for the past one year, I’ve been building up my business while still traveling and exploring as much as I want to, with my best friend Aliyah and with some of the money Nico’s lawyer declared in my name.

What really threw me aback about my divorce is the mere suspicious fact that for some reason the press kept quiet over the whole thing and so far, I haven’t heard a squeak about it from any publicist which is as weird and off-putting as I think because for a man as famously dangerous as my ex-husband is, the press was never out of our business for long.

If anything, all they ever talked about was the life of the billionaire tycoon and his plain wife for a year.

Now, I was no longer plain old, Brianna Page. I could do whatever I want, wherever I pleased, however I liked. It was as if marrying and divorcing Nico was the confidence boost I needed. I no longer cowered under heated stares, or hid my body under big ass clothes, or shy away from the attention when it was thrown my way.

No, I trimmed my body as much as I wanted with enough hours at the gym and body therapy so much that now my curves and dips are enough to make any man’s head turn.

Instead of cowering, I lived as I wanted, bathed in attention and reveled in pleasure whenever I felt attention on my luscious body.

Yes, divorcing Nico was the therapy affirmation I needed in my life.

I just didn’t notice it earlier.

“I’m still surprised that man hasn’t worked up the courage to speak to you, yet,” Aliyah piques, smearing more sunscreen on her tanned body.

“Who?” I ask.

She gestures with her elbow to the right, and my eyes are immediately drawn to the muscular man sipping cocktail on our right, seriously eye-fucking me.

I flinch. “Could he be any more obvious?”

Aliyah shrugs, “I mean, if I were a dude and I saw that kind of body in front of me, I’m definitely gonna wanna hit.”

I poke her with a finger, “Nice try, Ali.”

“I’m serious,” she relaxes back on her chair, “Nico has no idea how much he lost by letting you go.”

I don’t want to think about Nico anymore than I want to remember the past but to an extent she is right. Nico has never seen me this way before, never seen me in anything remotely sexy during the one year we stayed married. I was always dressed in baggy outfits whenever he showed up to discuss something with me and it didn’t help that we lived apart too. He lived in one part of town with his nasty ass mother, his petite sister, a cousin and his mistress.

And I lived all alone on another part of town.

With no one, not even my father because he too had washed his hands off me immediately he signed the contract with Nico.

I tuned in back to what Aliyah was saying, “ . . . and he had the guts to force you to sign it. It was better you did that, I’m totally loving this new you and – hold up, here he comes,” she squeals.

I tilt my head just in time to see the man from earlier walking up to us, a determined flirty expression splayed across his handsome face.

“Act like you don’t see him,” Aliyah whispers.

“Might be too late,” I tell her, as the man’s gaze holds mine unwaveringly.

“Care for a drink?” he drawls as he settles himself on the lounging chair beside me.

“Most men introduce themselves first,” I reply in a sultry voice.

His eyes trail over my body, his appreciation evident on his features, “Danny,” he mutters, “Daniel Stone. Here on a two-day holiday and then I’ll be back to Jersey.”

I smile, “Funny, that’s where I live.”

He returns my smile with an appraising one, “Great,” then he slips his hand into the pocket of his beach shorts and provides a business card, “call me?”

I take the card and read the inscriptions on it. Daniel Stone, business tycoon.

What is it with me and the men in the business area?

I turn it over in my hand, “Daniel Stone huh?”

“Of Stone Empire. You heard of that?”

Frankly, who hasn’t?

“Okay Daniel Stone of Stone Empire,” I mock, “I’ll call you.”

“Good,” his eyes trail my body once more, “there’s a lot I’m willing to offer.”

Before I can think of any response, a voice beats me to it. A deep, mysterious baritone I could recognize anywhere.

“How about your head on a platter? Are you willing to offer that? Because that’s the only thing you’ll have to offer in the next five seconds.”

My head whips upwards, shock reverberating through my body and displaying on my features as I take in the sight of the person before me.

Nico Armani stands in front of me, all six foot seven, with a hard scowl on his face, glaring down at us like we are the reason for all the global warming.

“Who the fuck are you?” David retorts.

“No one of importance,” Nico shoots back, his eyes landing on mine and staying there, “Just her fucking husband.”

Brianna

“What?!?”

Daniel looks visibly stunned when he looks back at me, “You didn’t tell me you were married.”

“I’m not!”

Aliyah gives a low whistle from behind me.

Nico leans in, his voice taking a low drawl when he says, “Your five seconds is up, champ.”

Danny rises to his feet indignantly, his eyes trained on mine regardless of Nico’s scowl beside him. “Call me.”

Nico’s scowl deepens as he makes his exit, then his eyes rounds up on mine. “Call me? What the hell was that?! You out flirting with every dude now?”

I’m sure my features display my confusion when I repeat his words. “What the hell was that?” I ask him, “your wife?”

“Did I stutter?”

“Did you forget something called a divorce? You know the thing that happened one year ago when you decided you wanted me gone from your life?”

He leans down and his hand closes tight around my arm, “Did you forget your fucking manners when speaking to—”

He cuts short, his eyes zeroing in on my body as he regards me like it is the first time he is seeing me.

“Why are you dressed like that?” he mutters.

“In a bikini?”

“I’ve never . . .” he trails off.

Suddenly aware of his acute gaze, I grab a beach robe and wrap it around my body, shooting to my feet in the process.

Nico straightens, clearing his throat and looking away from me with an expression I can't decipher on his face.

When he looks back at me it is not to complete the sentence he started. He takes in my wet, dirty blonde hair pooling at my waist, the tan on my usually pale skin, the waterproof makeup on my usually plain face.

“You’re different,” he deadpans, “I can't place my finger on it but . . .” he trails off, shaking his head, “you’re different.”

“And you’re here,” I snap, “crashing my vacation.”

Just like that the heated expression is back on his face. “Crashing your vacation? Well I wouldn’t have, if you didn’t just disappear off the face of the earth.”

I didn’t disappear off the face of the earth. No, it was more practical than that. I blocked him. That was probably why he couldn’t reach out to me even if he tried. Blocked him and deleted the memories of that one year of my life as much as I could.

“I had to hire some of my best private investigators, if I didn’t know better, I’d have thought you were running away from me.”

“You knew better,” I tell him, “I was running away from you. Why are you here Nico?”

He regards me like he can't believe I finally got some tongue. “We need to talk.”

“We are talking.”

“Alone,” his gaze shifts to Aliyah’s then back at me, “this is pretty important.”

“A girl knows when she isn’t wanted,” Aliyah singsongs, “I’m an earshot away,” she says, before leaving us to take a stroll on the beach.

“Well?” I shoot at my ex-husband.

He shoots daggers at me with his eyes because no one ever rushes Nico Armani.

“The divorce didn’t go through,” he deadpans.

My knees give way under me and I collapse on the lounging chair behind me. “What the hell do you mean the divorce didn’t go through?”

He occupies the chair Daniel just vacated minutes ago. “The judges didn’t grant it.”

“What on earth? It’s been a whole year!”

“I know,” Nico continues, “There were no grounds for it. Apparently a fulfillment of the duration of a contract wasn’t enough to grant a divorce.”

“But—” I search for the right words, “but you’re Nico Armani,” I mean this was the man that singlehandedly decided to go against one of the most powerful judges in the States and came out of that untouched, “Surely, you’ve got the power to outlaw whatever that law is.”

He sends me a pointed glare. “Trust me, I’ve tried. I don’t want to stay married to you any more than I want to get tied by fucking ropes. But the elections are at hand and I’m not going to jeopardize that by publicly fighting off a judge.”

Nico was vying for the position of a senate in New Jersey, as if being one of the most powerful business man wasn’t enough for the dude.

I flick wet hair off my face, “That’s not my problem anymore.”

“It is,” Nico declares, “especially since we are still a married couple and you are still my wife.”

“I told you, I’m not married to—”

“Six more months,” he cuts in, “the judges think that if we stay under the same roof for six months and we still feel the same way . . .” he shrugs.

“What do you mean under the same roof?” I pique.

“We’ve got to live in the same house.”

“What?!”

“Do you want the divorce or not? You refuse the offer, you’re stuck with my surname for the rest of your life.”

“I want neither of those things,” I shoot back, “but I’m not going to reduce myself to living under the same roof as your mistress.”

“Carla is not my mistress,” he warns.

“Then who is she?”

“None of your fucking business.”

“It is my business if you think I’ll be willing to co-exist with her.”

He runs a hand through his hair, “Fine,” he grits out, “something will be done about Carla.”

Carla or no Carla, I don’t want to go back to being the wife of a cold, domineering man much less living under the same roof with him and the woman who hated my guts just for the reason of being the wrong Page sister. Nico’s mother never liked me. It was evident in her absence at the small, arid court wedding, the way her eyes crossed whenever I walked into a room, the time she ‘mistakenly’ pushed me down the stairs that one time she visited my assigned mansion and claimed she was aiming for something else . . .

His sister didn’t like me either but unlike her mom, she was way better at hiding it, only ever showing it by leaving the room whenever I walked in and body shaming me behind my back. I can't say the same about the cousin that lived with them because I’ve never seen him and the rest of the occupants of that household just straight out ignored me.

Domestic staff included.

These are just the tips of the iceberg. The Armani family hurt me in more way than I imagine – physically, mentally and emotionally and going back to that family would mean the death of me. Literally and physically, and I can't risk that especially after how much time and energy I put in rebranding the new me.

All the gym and therapy sessions, the nights of being awake and weeping as the truth looked me straight in the eye.

Nobody wanted me. Not my father who gave me off to a man who hated my guts, or said man who didn’t even want to look at my face, or any member of his household who either maltreated me or ignored me.

That was the truth and I had to accept it before allowing myself to properly heal as much as I had to.

And I worked every hour of every day so I never had to feel that way again.

“I can’t risk it,” I tell him, “your family is filled with the most horrib—”

“Brianna.”

“You have no idea how much they –”

“You don’t get it, Brianna,” he snarls, “I’m not leaving here without you. I don’t care if I have to hurl you over my shoulders at this point but I’m getting that divorce.”

“You can't.”

“Try me.”

“What is in it for me?” I ask, because knowing Nico has taught me that he always gets what he wants and a plan is already forming in my head.

“What do you want?”

“The hotel in New York.”

“What?”

“You heard me, Nico. I want the hotel. Sign its ownership to my name.”

“Done.”

I blink. He was not supposed to agree to that. “What?”

“You want the hotel you get the hotel.”

Fine.

Nico Armani wants me back and he is going to get me back. But it will be different this time. Going back to the Armanis will be different this time.

The Armanis showed me what they are capable of, they showed me their worst parts and hid the best from me. They humiliated me and shone me and they watched me scurry off in the other direction like a squirrel with no place to turn to.

Not anymore. Not this time.

This time, the Armani’s will have no idea what hit them in the head when I strike. Oh, and I will strike, harder than they could ever reach.

This time, it will be on my own terms, on my own rules. The Armanis will not be allowed to hurt me anymore.

They don’t know it yet but the next six months will be the worst months of their lives.

The Armanis will wish they never met me.

Revenge, they say, is a cold dish.

Nico

“We checked in Istanbul sir, the lead was wrong.”

“Never mind,” I speak to the phone, “I found her. Abort the mission.”

“You mean to call off the squad in Italy too?” the PI I hired asks through the phone.

“Call it all off,” I order, before hanging up.

Looking for Brianna for a whole year proved more difficult than I care to admit. It was as if she disappeared off the face of the earth and only resurfaced when I hired one of the best private investigators to dig her up and it turned out she was making a name for herself in the business industry.

I can’t say I wasn’t surprised when I found out about her recent success because the Brianna I know was as timid as a rabbit in a predator’s gaze. I was always the predator, she the prey.

But seeing her in person explained everything. She isn’t the Brianna I knew from a year ago. This version of her . . .

Phew.

My eyes involuntarily trail to where she sits cross-legged by the window, staring as the world floats around the helicopter.

Brianna Page has changed so much in the past one year. For one thing, she let her hair grow farther than she usually lets it and now it hangs at a loose wave down her waist. Her eyes are clearer because she dumped the round glasses and it’s easy to see the blue flecks in her grey eyes. Her body is toned, curved at the right places and dipping where it should.

I’ll be the last to admit it but she looks nothing like Brianna Page and everything like her sister – Arianna.

The only woman I wanted but couldn’t get.

She turns sharply and catches my eyes trained on her.

“Got something you want to say?”

Not only her physical appearance changed apparently. Her whole demeanor. The Brianna I knew had no single bone of sass in her. She was a scaredy cat who had no idea when she was being picked on.

Nevertheless, she still reminded me of the woman I could never have.

“I wasn’t staring.”

“Yeah right,” she is in white shorts and a white tank top, coupled with a wide hat and a tanned skin, she looks a fashion model.

I force myself to look away. Six more months with this woman and I can say goodbye to her for good.

She flicks imaginary dirt from her nails, “I remind you of her don’t I?” she says, “Arianna.”

Red flashes before my eyes. “You don’t get to say that name,” I warn.

What happened to Arianna was my fault. My fault and mine alone. Yes I detest Brianna for being here instead of her but she is the greatest reminder of what I lost and how I brought it all upon my own self.

She gets up from her spot on the chair and strolls to mine, her eyes teasing. “It must be hell for you, seeing me and knowing you can't ever be with –”

I yank her arm so that she is pressed flushed on the seat beside me, “I said you don’t get to mention that name.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do anymore, Nico,” she deadpans, “you lost that right when you decided to – huh.”

She cuts herself off, her eyes roaming my face, “It’s not going to be the same anymore, dear husband.”

I feel her hand trail down the buttons of my shirt slowly, teasing as she whispers. “Not going to be the same.”

“What are you doing, Brianna,” I snarl.

“Just curious,” her eyes meet mine, their shape taking on a doe-like fashion. “I never actually touched you before.”

I never actually knew her to be flirty. But then, I don’t know anything about this woman before me.

However, I can see where she is going.

She is intentionally pulling at my patience, pulling the threads, hoping to ignite an emotion from me as she carries on with her hand, tugging at my simmering anger.

I’m not going to give her the satisfaction.

“What do you say I make do of our time here?” she purrs, her fingers inching lower.

I smirk.

She might be a rebranded version of herself but those eyes staring back at me still carry the innocence of the Brianna I knew a year ago. That same innocence and inexperience that is all too familiar with Brianna Page.

Her fingers pop the button at the base of my neck, ruffling my shirt, “What do you say dear husband? What do you say we —”

My hand tugs at her waist, pulling and lifting her whole so that she is no longer pressed against the seat but instead she is forced on top my laps, squashed between my chest and my hand on her waist while her slender fingers grip my shirt.

Her eyes go wide confirming my suspicions of her innocence. “Nic-o.”

“What were you saying about making do of our time here?”

Her cheeks flush a crimson red. “I was obviously –”

“Bluffing?”

My hand tightens on her waist and she squirms under my touch. I’ve never cared enough to touch Brianna Page in the past and I’ll be the last to admit that her body fits perfectly against my palm.

“Let me go, Nico.”

“Where’s all that bravery now, huh?” my hand wrap around her silky hair and I tug at it so that her face is tilted upwards, “You know better than to mess with me Bri.”

“Yeah,” here comes the sass, she can't help it even when she is totally at my mercy, “what are you gonna do abou—”

I grunt under my breath, “Oh, I’ll show you,” before coursing her forward and crashing my lips against hers.

I’ve never kissed Brianna before. I don’t know why it is happening now.

But once that ship starts sailing, there’s no way of stopping it.

On its own accord my hands tightens on her body, pulling her closer to me in the process. Her body squirms on mine while her mouth responds to the kiss as though in conflict with each other. My lips moves expertly over hers, kissing, sucking, biting.

I feel rather than hear a moan escape from her throat and onto my mouth as she opens up her lips further, welcoming the heat of my tongue. Her fingers circle around my neck as her body leans into mine and –

I don’t know how long we stayed there, kissing but after a few seconds, she springs to her feet suddenly and we are both out of breath and panting like we just ran the marathon and won.

She glares at me although she is very visibly shaken, “Never—”

“What?” I tease.

“Never. Do. That. Again.”

With that she storms off, leaving me smirking and satisfied on my seat.

She should never have brought it on. She asked for it and I delivered.

Brianna is nothing like the timid woman I remember. But then, I hope that timidity still remains somewhere within her because Brianna Page can never find out the real reason why I went through hell to find her.

She must never know how I plan to destroy her and her family till I get exactly what I want.

And deserve.