Love That Leads to Revenge

Name: Love That Leads to Revenge
Rating: 5.0 (1 reviews)

Josue

Adventure | Ongoing

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She was barely twenty years old when her heart was shattered by the man she thought she could love, a man who, out of spite and a thirst for revenge, left her in pain. He hated her for a crime she didn't commit, a crime she didn't even know about. The pain was unbearable, the betrayal devastating. Five years later, Ana was no longer the fragile, vulnerable young woman she once was. She had grown, matured, and built a strength she never knew she had back then. Life had changed her; she no longer believed in love or the goodness of men. She had learned not to let her emotions control her. Yet, when Devin reappeared, her balance faltered. He had returned, determined to finish what he hadn't been able to do before: his revenge. His dark, cold eyes exuded an icy hostility, but Ana knew he was no longer the man he once was. The Devin of today was more cynical, more ruthless. Still, she couldn't ignore the lingering attraction she had always felt for him. Devin, for his part, bore the scars of a life marked by betrayal and pain. Since the age of fourteen, revenge had become his only obsession. Fate had driven him to hate the daughter of the man who had destroyed his family. But when he crossed Ana's gaze again, he realized that the war he had waged against her could destroy both of them. Could their love be possible, or would the past be too heavy to bear?

Humor Revenge Love triangle Badboy Sweet Arrogant/Dominant

Chapter 5 05

04-29 02:16

Chapter 1 01

PROLOGUE

« Can I buy you a drink ? » someone asked behind Anastasia Hazel Forrester, and she schooled her features into an impassible mask before turning to face her interlocutor.

A pair of stunning blue eyes stared back at her, coupled with a dazzling smile meant to charm and impress.

Ana resisted the urge to sigh. She knew that look – confidence laced with an arrogant presumption that no woman could resist him. But she was no ordinary woman tonight. Tonight, she just wanted to be invisible, to blend into the background and forget about the world.

« I'm all good, » she drawled lazily, indicating her glass and dismissing the handsome stranger who had accosted her without second thoughts. She loathed the fact that the opposite sex seemed to think that every lonely woman at a bar was fair game.

She had perfected the art of saying no without a flicker of hesitation, but sometimes, it wasn't enough.

« Are you sure ? » he insisted, his words thick with an obvious slurred Italian accent, unfazed by the fact that she was clearly not interested.

Ana refrained from replying, instead flashing a small, polite smile that she hoped conveyed finality. She prayed silently that he would pick the hint. Thankfully, after a few seconds of awkward lingering, he finally relented and stumbled back to his table, muttering something under his breath.

She breathed a sigh of relief – that was her fifth overture for the night, and she was not impressed.

Her expectations about the Italian nightlife had been modest at best, but reality was proving more exhausting than exhilarating. She had heard that Italians were pretty flirtatious and straightforward, but she had never been a hands-on witness to the fact until today.

And now she was in the very heart of Milan, feeling more out of place than ever.

She'd just landed the previous afternoon, eager to escape from her suffocating life back home and spend some quality time with herself. However, it was proving impossible to have that much-needed solitude when she was constantly being approached by men with charming smiles and persistent offers.

Maybe she should go back to her room?

Sighing wearily, her eyes travelled across the dimly lit hotel lobby bar, taking in the polished marble floors, the glint of expensive crystal, and the low hum of conversation. The world seemed to move in slow motion around her, and yet she felt isolated, almost cocooned inside her own little bubble.

Then, inexorably, her gaze landed on a lonely figure seated a few feet away from the bar, and Ana did a double take.

He was, without a doubt, the most handsome man she had ever seen.

Her breath caught in her throat as she gorged on the perfection of the specimen before her. He was perched casually at the bar, one hand wrapped around a tumbler of what looked like whiskey, completely oblivious to the attention he was drawing.

Was he Italian? His features did not give a clear clue about his heritage, but he looked nothing like the other males she had encountered tonight. His skin was fairer than the traditional dark olive complexion that seemed to dominate the region. His hair was a dark, messy mop that curled slightly at the ends, giving him a careless, almost rebellious air.

What differentiated him, however, was not just his looks – it was the brooding, enigmatic sex appeal that he seemed to emanate without much effort.

It wrapped around him like an invisible shield, keeping the world at bay.

He didn't seem to have a care in the world, blatantly ignoring the come-hither looks the women surrounding him kept sending in his direction.

He was uninterested – just like herself.

A strange sense of affinity and relatability struck Ana, a deep recognition that she couldn't explain. He gave the depiction of being lonely even among the crowd. Exactly how she was feeling right now.

Judging from the way he was dressed – a tailored black suit that screamed wealth and an open-collared shirt that hinted at nonchalance – he conveyed the message of being rich.

Not that Ana cared – it was only a subconscious observation. She had grown up surrounded by men like him, thanks to her father's status and endless business associates.

Money didn't impress her. She had seen too many soulless people hiding behind expensive suits and fancy cars.

Italian men were renowned to be exceptionally gorgeous, but Ana wasn't sure that the stranger was one of the locals. There was something about his fierce aura that beckoned to her in a peculiar fashion, something that whispered of secrets and promises left unspoken.

It was as if she was drawn to him, her entire being tingling with awareness and insane restlessness.

Like a moth to a flame.

She was still staring, lost in thought, when he moved.

Effortless and deliberate, he lifted his glass, took a sip, and then, as if sensing her gaze, he turned.

Their eyes locked.

Ana forgot her next breath.

It was insane, absurd even, that she was so attracted to a stranger's physical beauty. But there was something about the intensity of his gaze that rooted her to the spot, making it impossible to look away.

A pair of exceptionally gorgeous green eyes stared back at her, piercing through her very soul.

He didn't smile. He didn't look away. Instead, he lifted his glass in silent acknowledgement of her stare, as if to say I see you too.

Ana flushed, feeling the heat creep up her neck to her cheeks.

Was she being too obvious?

She instinctively turned her gaze back to her drink, suddenly self-conscious.

What the hell was she doing?

She wasn't the type to gawk at men, no matter how ridiculously attractive they were. And yet, something about him had short-circuited her usual defenses.

The awareness lingered, thick and electric between them, even as she forced herself to focus on the condensation trailing down her glass.

Her heart pounded against her ribs in a frantic rhythm, and for a second, she entertained the foolish thought of walking over to him.

But that wasn't her. That wasn't Anastasia Hazel Forrester.

She was the good girl. The perfect daughter. The one who didn't chase strangers in hotel bars.

And yet... there was a sliver of reckless longing simmering just beneath her carefully maintained facade.

A longing that whispered maybe – just maybe – she should do something she had never dared to do before.

As if sensing her inner turmoil, the stranger smiled faintly, a ghost of amusement flickering across his features. It wasn't cocky or mocking – it was understanding.

As if he could read her mind.

The air around her seemed to thicken, pulling tighter and tighter until Ana felt like she was drowning in it.

She gripped the stem of her glass harder, fighting the insane urge to walk toward him, to find out what secrets lay behind those mesmerizing green eyes.

Instead, she remained rooted to her seat, her body humming with suppressed energy.

Tonight was supposed to be about finding herself, not losing herself in a pair of hypnotic eyes.

But as the stranger turned back to his drink, Ana knew, deep in her bones, that this was only the beginning.

Whatever this connection was – however fleeting – it had already altered something fundamental inside her.

And nothing would ever be quite the same again.