The moment Macy met Matteo Romanelli she knew he’d change her life. However, after a whirlwind romance, he betrays her in the worst way possible. Macy Moore dies. She is reborn as Gianna, with a desire for vengeance and a plan to bring down the house of Romanelli. With a new face and a new name, the love she once felt for Matteo has turned into hate.
Matteo knew he was going to marry Macy the first time he saw her working in a coffee shop. Beautiful, sweet, and caring, she was oblivious to who he was really is. When he discovers she’s been killed by a rival family, his broken heart vows revenge.
Can Gianna learn to trust Matteo again? What does it mean for her plan of vengeance when she learns they were victims from the same lie? Can hate turn back into love?
“May I help you?”
Matteo glanced at the barista and suddenly the whole world shifted into slow motion and came to a screeching halt. There was a tunnel and the only two people in it were her and him. He’d never believed in love at first sight—lust, sure, but not love—yet the tiny slip of the woman behind the counter had him rethinking. Or salivating. Eh, same thing.
Heart-shaped face. Light brown hair. Blue crystalline eyes stared wide-eyed at him. So incredibly beautiful they seemed to pierce into his soul, almost too ethereal to believe. She wore some type of jaunty red beret that matched her work shirt. The name Brasserie stitched on her t-shirt. French. Should’ve known.
She was so God-damn gorgeous it almost hurt to look at her.
“May I help you?” she asked again, tilting her head.
The tunnel collapsed around him, bringing him back to reality with a thud. He had to shake out of the daze she cast over him, and stop looking at her plump lips. Her very kissable, fuckable lips.
Matteo cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. Medium salted caramel latte and a large black coffee.”
She smiled and turned to work, and holy fuck. If her front side was heaven to look at, her backside just about killed him. Jeans molded to a nice little ass he wanted to bite. And maybe fuck … hell, who was he kidding? He definitely wanted to fuck that ass.
Luckily, no one was behind him waiting impatiently. It gave him time to watch her. Admire her. Shit, now his damn slacks were too tight across the front and having a hard-on during a business meeting was not on his agenda for the day.
She turned back around and set the two cups on the counter. Then she rang him up.
“Ten dollars, please,” she said, her voice soft and melodic.
He grabbed his wallet and slapped some money down. “Keep the change for your tip.”
Her eyes widened. “That’s a hundred-dollar bill.”
“Yeah. So?”
She bit that puffy bottom lip and he just about groaned. Fuck! He started doing math in his head in an effort to—how should he put it—deflate.
“It’s a ninety-dollar tip,” she whispered.
He leaned closer to whisper back. “I had excellent service.”
