Storm - The Sweet Poison of Revenge

THE SWEET POISON OF REVENGE

Victory Storm

Text copyright 2020 VictoryStorm

http://www.victorystorm.com

Translator (ita --> eng): Maria Burnett
Publisher: Tektime

Cover: Victory Storm's graphic design - Stock:https://stock.adobe.com

This is a work fiction. Names, characters, organizations,places, events and incidents are either products of the author'simagination or are used fictitiously.

All rights reserved. No part of the book may be reproduced ordisseminated by any means, photocopies, microfilm or otherwise,without the author's permission.

THE SWEET POISON OF REVENGE

Zane Thunder is wealthy, charming, single, desired by many, andat the head of the Thunder Company, one of the most famous andrespected advertising agencies in Chicago. In life, he always hadto struggle but, in the end, he managed to get everything hewanted. Everything except Audrey. The only woman he ever loved andwho betrayed him, destroying his happiness. Audrey Larson losteverything. Her happy life ended with the divorce from the only manshe ever loved, Zane.
When they separated, her descent into hell started, but justwhen it seems like she had lost everything, Zane reappears in herlife.
It has been four years since the last time they met.
Will these years make her forget and start a new page, orwill their meeting only rekindle old grudges and the need forrevenge that has been there all along?

1

Audrey

"Great job, Miss Larson," PeterAnderson mumbled quickly, seeing me run back to the kitchen to takeyet another order to take to the table.

Thanks, I whispered excited for the compliment, before leavingfor the elegant dining room of the prestigious restaurant, my handsloaded with dishes.

"I cannot believe it. Anderson just complimented you. You cannow consider yourself hired! Congratulations, Audrey! My colleagueSharon exclaimed in a low voice, as I was trying to avoid runninginto her, moving towards the tables assigned to me.

That day Prestige was full.

All the tables were taken, except one.

The bar counter was crowded and everywhere there were peoplecoming and going in every direction.

The risk of colliding with someone was extremely high.

A risk that I absolutely could not afford.

That was my third day at work as a waitress for Prestige and it would have been my last trial day beforedeciding whether to hire me permanently or let me go if I was notsuitable for the job at the restaurant.

Actually, I never wanted to be a waitress.

I was a Marketing graduate with a concentration in Administration and Public Relationship.

In addition, I had studied advertising.

That had always been my world.

I had worked for advertising agencies all my life, until mydivorce and my transfer to Gatesville to be near my father, whoended up in a wheelchair after a terrible stroke that had paralyzedhim from the neck down.

Now I was back in Chicago, that I considered my city, the placewhere all my dreams had always come true.

However, I had soon discovered that, due to the four years Ispent far away, many doors were now closed to me.

After years in Gatesville to take care of my only parent who wasstill alive, Chicago had changed.

Now requests, experiences, and competitiveness had reachedlevels that made my reintegration into what had always been my jobalmost impossible.

Seemingly, nobody cared if I had planned and organizedprestigious advertising campaigns. The only thing that everyonestopped to look at was that four-year-old interval during which Ihad been cut off from the working world.

And now, here I was, being a waitress in a luxury restaurant,surrounded by buildings that gathered the offices of some of thelargest advertising and IT companies in the city.

I had looked for work desperately after my father's death,overwhelmed by healthcare costs yet to be paid.

All my savings and money inherited from my father were gone.

The only thing left for me to do was to go back to work inChicago, the only city I knew and that could offer me jobopportunities that a small town like Gatesville could never giveme.

Because of my financial problems, I had not been able to wait tofind the perfect job, so I had to really search and in the end Ihad decided to find a job that would allow me to get in touch withthe upscale world, without showing it .

Being a waitress at Prestige meant this to me.

It was not only the beautiful uniforms that made me feel atease, but it was the possibility to meet the new owners of theadvertising world that had aroused my interest.

Now the only thing I had to do was pass the three-day trialperiod and get that job, in order to pay the house rent, I hadthree-months in arrears, and I needed to start probing the groundfor my future.

That day I knew that I had made the right choice.

While serving drinks as well as elaborate and tasty dishes, Ioverheard extremely interesting conversations: a certain Savannah,annoyed by the advertising work she had requested for her cosmeticsline, a creative director who had resigned leaving the Marshall Company in a difficult situation, since they did not know now how tosatisfy the requests of new customers, a certain Farlight who wasdiscussing with a woman his desire to revamp his liqueurs brandlogo ...

In short, in front of me, I had infinite possibilities ofgetting a hold of the right customer and getting a job in publicrelations of an advertising company in exchange for some of thetips I had learnt.

I knew very well there were those who would pay handsomely forthat information.

I felt in seventh heaven. Despite the effort of that large anddemanding clientele, always in a hurry, I had not slowed down orwished for a break.

"Bring this to table seven," Anderson suddenly ordered, handingme a tray full of appetizers.

That was the last of the free tables.

I looked at the clock.

A few more hours and my day at work would be done.

Zigzagging between a table and another, between a client and acolleague, I arrived at the tables assigned to me, but just as Iquickly turned to the right to avoid the dog of a client who hadlost control of it, I suddenly found myself facing a figure inblack.

Before I could turn or focus my gaze on what was happening, Ifelt the tray crash abruptly against that obstacle, knocking allthe glass goblets to the ground, which shattered in a thousandpieces.

Oh, my God! I whispered in desperation, in front of the carpetof broken glass, while my eyes went up on the silhouetted figure infront of me. I'm ... I am sorry ... I did not see you ... The dogdistracted me and ..., I continued to sputter in shock, looking atthe mans white shirt, now completely soaked and stained by severaldrinks.

I was continuing to babble apologies, when I finally had thecourage to look up and meet the mans furious look.

Suddenly I experienced a rapid heartbeat.

As soon as my eyes met his blue ones, I could not catch mybreath and was not able to compose myself for several seconds.

"Zane," I uttered, still unable to breathe, while every part ofmy body that had been touched and kissed by him in the past seemedto awaken.