Desired as his Vampire Duchess

1: Ruined

Valentina

"Chrissy, I got it!" I cried triumphantly into the phone from the back seat of the cab I'd just gotten into. "I got the artifact restorer job!"

"That's great!" my best friend of twelve years squealed through the line. "I knew you would!"

"This is just the beginning," I gushed. "After a few years on the restoration team, I might get to travel, even end up as head of the department for the entire museum!"

"I know Val, you only told me like one hundred times," Chrissy said with a laugh. "But I'm so happy for you! Let's go out tonight to celebrate!"

"I totally would, but I got out an hour early, so I'm going to surprise Barrett," I said excitedly. "I'm going to make him dinner and everything. He'll be so thrilled! We just moved in together, after all. This is great for us."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it, you're happy and in love," Chrissy said, gagging comically through the phone. "We'll go out tomorrow, then. Call me later, okay?"

"Sounds good!" I said, still smiling ear to ear. "Adore you, girl."

"Right back at you."

I hung up after our usual goodbye. I felt positively giddy. After being orphaned when I was age two and growing up in the foster system, working my ass off to finish high school with no support, and completing my degree and apprenticeship simultaneously, all my hard work paid off. My return to the museum on Monday would be as an official artifact restorer. It was rare for them to offer an official paid position to someone without a Master's degree, but under the head restorer Frank's tutelage, I had proven my worth through my delicate attention to detail. Not to mention my near-obsession with the history surrounding each piece I worked on.

The cab dropped me off at the grocery store just down the block from the apartment I now lived in with Barrett, my boyfriend of two years. We met in an art history class in college, me the student and him as the teacher's assistant. I fell in love instantly, with his dimpled smile and passion for art, both historical and contemporary. After circling each other all semester, he finally asked me out after final exams, and we've been together ever since. His big dream was to become a gallery owner and make his own mark separate from his rich family, which I fully supported just as much as he did my own career. Together we had scrimped and saved, and he was about to sign the paperwork and put a down payment on a gallery space with money we had both saved up, along with the small inheritance my parents left to me when they died. Everything was finally happening for us.

After buying ingredients for dinner, I walked down the street to the apartment we'd moved into only three weeks ago. "Hmm," I murmured as I passed the tiny parking lot our building possessed, which was a major draw when we were apartment hunting. Barrett's car was parked in our reserved space, a sight I didn't expect to see. He was supposed to be meeting with a vendor at the gallery for at least thirty more minutes. I sighed in disappointment. I had hoped to surprise him with dinner. But still, at least the job offer would be a great surprise. And I'd bought ingredients for his favorite meal.

I let myself into the apartment and toed off my shoes...only to realize with a start that, instead of being next to Barrett's trendy sneakers, my shoes were next to a pair of shiny black stilettos that I'd never seen before in my life. I almost called out, but the sinking feeling in my gut stopped me. I was jumping to the worst-case scenario. Barrett could have decided to invite that vendor over to our place. But if it was...something else, I needed to know for sure.

I crept into the kitchen and dining area. It was empty, with nothing out of place. In the living room, a single glass of scotch sat sweating on the glass coffee table, next to Barrett's phone. Maybe I was reading too much into it.

Then I heard a moan.

I squeezed my eyes shut and bit my lip, hard. The sound came from the direction of the bedroom. I snuck down the hallway and peeked through the c***k in the door.

The place where Barrett and I had made love, made plans for a future together, was being desecrated by his betrayal with another woman. She was riding him hard, moaning loudly, and he was running his hands—his lying, cheating hands—all over her body. Both of them were completely naked, clothes strewn all over the floor.

Something in my brain snapped, pulling me back from breaking down and shoving me into logical survival mode. Evidence. I would need evidence to protect myself. With trembling hands, I took my phone out of my pocket and lifted it up to the doorjamb. Make sure his face is in full view. The woman had a tramp stamp on her lower back, so no concerns about him passing her off as me. Email the pictures to two different emails in case something happened to my phone. I walked quietly back down the hall to his phone, so conveniently left on the table. Opening it—something I had never done before, since he had never given me a reason not to trust him—until now.

At first, it looked innocuous enough, with different names in his messages that I recognized as vendors and artists from the gallery. But once I started opening them, it became clear. Barrett hadn't been faithful or truthful to me, not for a long time. I scrolled through comments about how he was using me for my inheritance money, had lied about cost to make it look like he was putting up more money for the gallery, how he would dump me the moment the check cleared. There were multiple women, going back nearly two years.

Our entire time together was a lie.

I took screenshots of the infidelity and fraud and sent them to my phone and email addresses, then deleted the sent message from his phone. I was done. And based on the excalation of the sounds of passion in the bedroom, so were they.

Overhearing the sounds of my boyfriend's mistress telling him how wonderful his big d**k was, I debated leaving. I had the evidence, and I could quietly get a lawyer to help me break free. I could afford to, since no way was my inheritance going to help that slimy creep get his gallery now.

But I had to face him.

By the time they came out of the bedroom, I had settled myself at the dining table, facing the hall. They stumbled almost drunkenly, with Barrett's arm around her waist and trying to kiss her cheek while she giggled, pencil skirt askew and blouse only half buttoned.

When Barrett finally noticed me, his demeanor instantly changed. He shoved the woman away. "H-hello, Val," he stammered. "Stasia here had a little too much to drink at her vendor meeting, so I was just helping her—"

"Find her c****x?" I said, leveling him with a cold stare. "Sounds like you did a great job helping her."

The woman scoffed, but shut up when Barrett shot her a glare. "Sweetie, it's not what it looks like. You're making this out to be a bigger deal than it is."

I held up a hand to silence him. "Of all the things you could say to me right now, and you pick a bunch of crappy clichés?" I stood up. "It's over, Barrett. The gallery, this apartment, this relationship. It's all over." I stood up tall and pulled my bag over my shoulder. "Goodbye, Barrett," I said coldly, hating the feel of his name in my mouth.

"Val, wait!" Barrett said, his face growing red as he moved to intercept me on my way out the door. "You can't leave like this! What about the down payment for the gallery? I'll be ruined!"

"Move," I hissed. He blinked, taken aback.

"Valentina, let's just all calm down and—"

"If you don't get out of my way now, I will also release proof of your cheating and swindling to everyone we know," I snarled.

Barrett's eyes went wide. "You wouldn't," he said with blustering confidence.

I held up my phone and waved it in his face. "I would. And before you even think about destroying my phone, just know that I've already sent the evidence elsewhere, so you can't erase it. I also have my phone rigged to call the authorities, which I will do if you lay a single finger on me."

My now-ex-boyfriend's mouth gaped open and closed. His mistress fluttered uselessly to the side, at least having enough sense to keep her mouth shut. Taking my chance, I forced my way past him. "I'll arrange to have my stuff picked up. Don't try to contact me," I warned as I stepped out of the apartment. "If you do, I'll release the evidence. Who knows, maybe I'll release it anyway, so you can't inflict yourself on other people anymore."

"Don't you dare, Val! I won't let you get that far!" Barrett's screaming rang in my ears as I walked down the hall, refusing to look back.