The Revenge Of The Wallflower

"“I will come back for my revenge.” That was Tatiana Rostova’s promise to herself as she fought for her life one cold night out at sea after her fiancé and her stepsister, the two people she loved the most, betrayed her and watched as the raging waters swallowed her whole. She would even sell herself to the devil—even if the devil came in the form of the handsome, six-foot-two, silver- eyed Italian duke, Lucca Domenico Cavelli—just to take back everything that is rightfully hers. This is just the beginning of the wallflower’s revenge."

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2. Chapter One- The New Beginning

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The New Beginning

 

The world is round, and the place which may seem like the end may also be the beginning.

 

 -Ivy Baker Priest

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Tatiana Rostova~

 

"Hmm.”

 

I mumbled. Where was I? In heaven? I could smell the fresh flowers, and I could hear the sea. 

I wanted to open my eyes, but they just felt too heavy. I heard people murmuring softly nearby, but I was too dazed to understand what they were talking about. 

 

Lei andrà bene (She will be okay),” a male voiced whispered. 

“Hmm…” I mumbled again, shifting slightly on the bed. I was finally able to open my eyes. 

The first thing I noticed were the high ceiling, the cream-colored walls, and then the two men standing nearby. 

 

The first one, who had his hands in his pockets, stared out into the ocean. The second one stared at the first man, with his gray head bowed slightly. They both wore expensive suits.

 

Sua Eccellenza (Your Excellency) …” the second man said after noticing that I was already awake, looking confused. The first man shifted and then glared at me with silver eyes, knocking the wind out of me. 

 

Lasciano (Leave),” he said with undisguised authority. 

The other man bowed and walked out, closing the door behind him. 

The silver-eyed man moved closer to the bed. He stared at me and said, “Come stai— (How are you—)” 

I shook my head to say that I could not understand what he was saying. I was fluent in English, Russian, and even French, but not Italian. When he noticed my protest, he quickly switched codes. 

“How are you?”

 

“I’m fine,” I said. I tried to sit on the bed but I still felt a little woozy. I suddenly felt large hands supporting me. I smiled sheepishly.

 

 “And a little dizzy, I think. Where am—” 

“You are at my villa here in Amalfi,” the good-looking stranger said, staring deep into my eyes.

 

“You’re lucky that my yacht was passing by. You nearly drowned, signorina.” So the light I saw came from his yacht. 

I closed my eyes, remembering everything that happened that night, and felt immensely hurt. 

 

“…Signorina (Miss)?” he said. I stared at the man who saved me. He was frowning, and his brows were knitted. 

 

“Forgive me,” I said weakly. “My mind was somewhere else. I haven’t yet thanked you, Signore(Sir)…?” 

 

“Cavelli,” he supplied with smile, and then extended his hand. “Lucca Cavelli.” 

I took his hand and shook it. I felt an inexplicable electricity from his touch. 

 

“Tatiana Rostova,” I said.  

 

“Russian?”

 

“Yes. My father.”

 

“Pleased to meet you, Signorina Rostova.”  

 

I nodded coolly.

 

“Likewise.”

 

Lucca Caville~

 

The woman I saved from the brink of death was finally awake. I was checking constantly the entire night for news regarding her condition, and the doctor assured me that she was going to be fine. 

 

I kept wondering how she ended up in the middle of the dark sea. When I went to see her upon being told that she was finally awake, I was stunned momentarily when my gaze met a pair of violet eyes that reflected pain as they stared back at me. 

 

She wasn’t classically beautiful. Her skin was pale, and her jet-black hair was out of style. At first sight, one can describe her as plain, but her eyes set her apart from everyone else. Her eyes alone could transform her entirely.

 

 “Are you okay, signorina?” 

 

Her voice was soft and melodic when she answered— with an American accent. 

I was sure she was trying to remember what had happened to her.

 

 “I haven’t thanked you yet, Signore…?” 

 

I bit back my smile. Did she seriously not know me? She was probably still in shock. “Cavelli,” I said, extending my hand.

 

“Lucca Cavelli.” 

 

She shook it briefly. Her hands were as delicate as the rest of her. And then she told me her name. I was perplexed for a moment.

 

 “Russian?” 

 

“Yes. My father.”

 

“Pleased to meet you, Signorina Rostova.” 

 

“Likewise,” she said, her tone ice-cold.

 

There was a knock on the door.  

 

Entra (Come in),” I said. 

 

The maid entered with a tray of breakfast for me and my guest, which she quietly put down on the table set on the terrace that overlooked the sea, before quietly leaving the room. 

 

“Breakfast is ready, Signorina,” I said.

 

She shook her head and stood.

 

“Thanks, but I’m afraid I need to go. I have a flight to New York to catch.” She looked down at the silk pajamas she was wearing.

 

 “If you could please give me my clothes, I would be grateful.” I shook my head.

 

“But only after you’ve eaten. Maybe you should call your family. I’m sure they’re worried.” 

Her amethyst eyes turned cold.

 

“I don’t have a family to worry about me anymore.” I frowned.

 

“There’s got to be someone.”

 

“I assure you no one would be anxious if I went missing, Signore.” 

 

The woman was stubborn.

 

 “I’m sure—”

 

“Has anyone ever told you how annoying you are?” she snapped. 

 

“No,” I said. No one else had ever dared.

 

 “Well, you are!” 

 

I was amused. She was the first person to ever tell me that, and I admired her for it. 

 

“Then we can further discuss my being annoying over breakfast,” I answered.

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