Revenge

25 | BabyGirl

Then Theo and Lucas approach, both wearing sad puppy eyes like it's their secret weapon.

"Really?" I raise my eyebrows, crossing my arms.

"Just forget you hate us for five minutes? Please?" Theo says, his voice exaggeratedly pleading.

I sigh, considering it for a moment. "Fine," I finally say, opening my arms and waving them in. "But only for five minutes."

They both grin as if the sun shines out of my arse, immediately pulling me into an overly aggressive hug.

"You guys are ridiculous," I mutter, though I can't help but laugh a little as they squeeze me.

Finally, after having the life squeezed out of me, they pull away, leaving me to catch my breath—only to see Alessio standing there. Has everyone formed fucking queue?

"No. Absolutely no fucking way you're getting a hug from me," I say, crossing my arms defiantly.

"Come on, Valentina, just a friendly hug," he replies, opening his arms as if it's the most casual request in the world.

I glare, weighing up the pros and cons. There are no pros. With a dramatic huff, I take a few reluctant steps forward and step into his arms.

"I'm proud of you, amour," he says softly, the word rolling off his tongue too easily.

"Don't call me that," I mutter, but the scent of his cologne hits me—a familiar mix of sandalwood, leather, and a hint of amber. It's the same intoxicating smell from all those years ago.

"I can hear you sniffing me," he chuckles into my ear, his breath warm against my skin, sending a shiver down my spine despite my best efforts to ignore it.

"You're insufferable," I say, quickly pulling away, refusing to let myself linger in his embrace any longer than necessary. I glance over at Tom, who's watching the scene unfold with an unreadable expression on his face. Understandably so, considering he's just witnessed me hugging my ex-boyfriend.

Tom walks over with a confident stride, his hand slipping around my waist as he pulls me into him. Before I can say anything, his lips are on mine, kissing me with an intensity that I know isn't just for me—it's for the audience. Specifically for the one person standing a few feet away.

Alessio.

After a few moments, Tom does something unexpected, trailing kisses down my neck, lingering. He pulls back slightly, groaning—loudly—"God, baby, you smell so good."

I freeze. He did that on purpose. I hear Nicco snort behind me, clearly finding the whole thing amusing.

I glance at Alessio, who's standing there with a blank expression, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. Tom's grip tightens around my waist, pulling me closer, making a very clear statement: She's mine.

I gently push Tom back with a soft smile, trying to ease the tension. "Tom..." I say quietly, but the damage is done. Everyone, including Alessio, saw exactly what just happened. And Tom's little display didn't go unnoticed by anyone.

Suddenly, Jacques appears beside me, two martinis in hand, casually offering me one with a knowing smirk. Without hesitation, I take the glass and down it like a shot, the liquid burning its way down my throat but doing nothing to ease the tension swirling around me. Jacques, ever the enabler, passes me the second martini without a word, and once again, I down it just as quickly.

I catch a glimpse of Alessio out of the corner of my eye, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he stares daggers at Tom. That's not good.

Tom, still blissfully unaware—or maybe just pretending to be—leans in, planting another kiss on my cheek, while Alessio's grip tightens around the empty glass in his hand.