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.

Brianna

I’ve been to the Armani mansion not more than four times in my life and those were only because I had no choice whatsoever than to show up and pretend to be the ever so dutiful, ever so loving wife of Nico Armani.

Keeping up the appearance of a happy couple was not necessarily a requirement in mine and Nico’s marriage but sometimes he needed me to convince the public he had a heart.

My heels click as I make my way into the mansion, my hair billowing around me in the breezy summer wind even though I tamed it down with a hat.

I can't believe I let Nico kiss me back at the helicopter. And I hate myself for reacting to him the way I did.

But when those lips demanded more from me, the only thought that crossed my mind was giving into the desire that tugged at my whole body.

Never again.

It’s no use pretending that I haven’t always envisioned being kissed by Nico and I’m not gonna lie that it didn’t feel better than my imaginations conjured up but Nico Armani treated me like trash for the entirety of the year we were together. It was one year of me wanting him, hoping he’ll look at me a tiny bit of the way he looked at Arianna. Just a fraction of it.

But he never he did. He could’ve treated me right even if he didn’t love me, but he never once treated me like anything other than a whole messy baggage.

So now even if I have to remind myself every single hour of the day that the man is as cruel and cold as ice, I’ll do it to show them just exactly how much they hurt me.

The doors to the mansions swings open and Rosa Armani steps out, blocking my path.

Nico’s mother is a woman in her prime, beautiful, physically younger than her age with the same dark hair, and striking features as her son that makes her look almost as intimidating as the man.

She is of average height but she still somehow towers over me when she sends me a condescending scowl I’ve come to associate with her.

“I hate to be the voice of reason,” she starts regally, “But what the hell do you think you are doing back here?”

Rosa always gave me the vibes of some stuck up royalty always looking down at her subjects. Or at least that’s the way she was to me.

Refusing to be physically intimidated by her presence, I maintain my stance, giving the men behind me carrying my luggage a simple go-ahead command.

“Trust me,” I take off my sunglasses, “being here is the last thing I ever want.”

She sends me an all too familiar smirk, “Here to act like a fucking leech aren’t you? We’ve gotten rid of you already and I want you gone!”

“Funny,” I reply, “for the first time, Rosa, we both want the same things.”

I’ve never really understood Rosa Armani’s hatred for me. She hated me from the first day she saw me and until this day, she has never once sent a kind word to me – not even once – only always showing me the rotten part of her she kept hidden from the whole world.

Even though I had no choice but to assume her hatred for had nothing to do with me and everything to do with the fact that I was nothing like Arianna who she was supposed to have instead of me as a daughter-in-law, I’ll like to know the full and detailed reason, if any, behind Rosa’s disdain for me.

Now is not the time to wonder, however.

This is a war zone so I flick my hair and return her smirk with a smile of my own, adding an extra sweetness to my tone when I say “From one Mrs. Armani to another –”

“What?”

“You see, Rosa, the thing is –”

Before I can explain further, I feel Nico coming up behind me and saving me the stress of dealing with his mother

“Let it go, mother.”

Great, I was wondering when he would show up. He wanted this divorce as much as I want to and if his mother is going to be a problem to the judges finally separating us, then I know how far her is willing to go to solve that problem.

He is after all making plans to send his mistress away for that effect.

Yeah, he hates me that much.

Rosa’s eyes move to her son’s, “What do you mean – You divorced her! She doesn’t have to be here.”

I feel his eyes trained on me when he says, “Not quite. It’s complicated.”

I send her another sweet smile, “Yes Rosa, it is complicated. But for now, I am still an Armani.”

She blinks, confused, and I get the sudden feeling she is reconciling the old me with the new me. She takes in my looks for the first time and she looks visibly taken aback with what she sees.

No longer the chubby, timid girl with no spine whatsoever.

I’m too tensed to care but for the first time, I’ve managed to bring out another emotion from Rosa Armani that is not some kind of condescending hatred or plain cruelty.

I smirk and turn to send an infuriating wink at Nico, “See you, soon,” then I gesture around my lips, “You’ve got a little bit of lipstick, husband.”

With that I storm off, but not before I catch a stunned Carla by the doorway.

Yes, Carla, that’s my lipstick on the mouth of your lover. It wasn’t an intentional kiss but she doesn’t have to know that from me, and I don’t see Nico trying to explain himself to her either.

Nico never serves an explanation to anybody not even his mistress and for the first time, his arrogant behavior is going to work in my favor.

Let’s see how she feels about another woman in her territory.

Coming back to the Armanis is proving to be a piece of cake – easy, peasy. Or at least a whole lot easier than I envisioned it to be and that accounts for a whole lot of somethings.

In no time, Carla would be gone from the house, either off to be his mistress somewhere else or to be someone else’s mistress.

And in no time, Rosa Armani will find out that the hotel she manages in New York no longer belongs to her son.

It belongs to me now.

And I don’t see why I should keep her working there when I hate her guts.