My Dad's Bestfriend novel Chapter 128

Evelyn

It turned out that the address Tyler had given me led to a hotel, though a different one from where I'd stumbled upon my boyfriend locking lips with his ex—a sight as sweet as a lemon wedge in an open wound. Very very sweet indeed.

Life seemed to have a knack for fucking with me from every angle, but hey, at least I was getting a firsthand tour of Rome's swanky hotels and a crash course in Italian social dynamics.

So far, the three Italians I'd encountered—Jacob Adriano, Tyler Ricci, and Chloe the bitch—had left me less than impressed. Not that I was painting all Italians with the same tainted brush, but were they all cut from the same dysfunctional cloth? Hard to say. And frankly, I wasn't sure I cared to find out.

My experiences with Italians thus far had been nothing short of nightmarish and weirdly fucked-up. So, forgive me if I wasn't exactly eager to cozy up to another Italian male, especially not the innocent, put-together types like Jacob, or the ones whose corruption oozed from their pores like Tyler. Rotten to the fucking core.

Approaching the receptionist, I plastered on my best fake smile. "Hi there, could you please tell me the room number for Mister Ricci?"

"Tyler, ma'am?" Her surprise was evident, and I could almost see the gears turning in her head. "Are you Evelyn?"

Ah, so that slimy bastard had even managed to rope the receptionist into his little game.

"Let me guess, this is his hotel?" I inquired dryly, and she nodded, her smile unwavering, as if thrilled to be the bearer of such invaluable information.

"Yes, ma'am. This is his hotel, and you are most welcome here," she chirped, handing over a keycard with practiced efficiency. "He left this for you. The suite's on the tenth floor. Enjoy your stay, ma'am."

"Thank you," I muttered, snatching the keycard and making a beeline for the elevator. With each passing floor, my anxiety skyrocketed. People entered and exited, oblivious to the turmoil churning inside me. Meanwhile, I stood there alone, having watched my world crumble, piece by agonizing piece, in someone else's embrace.

Regrets flooded my mind like a torrential downpour.

God! Loving Jacob had been a profound error, a catastrophic misjudgment that eclipsed all other blunders of my existence.

Why did I even fucking love him?

As the lift doors parted, I drew in a steadying breath, feeling the clammy sheen on my palms. I approached suite number 837 with a head swirling with conflicting thoughts.

Swiping the keycard, I pushed open the door, summoning every iota of resolve as I stepped inside. There he was, seated at the bar, pouring himself a glass of whiskey.

"So you're finally here..." His words slithered out without a glance backward. "Come, Bella Donna, have a seat."

I complied with his request, but instead of perching on the stool beside him, I chose to stand opposite, leaning against the bar, fixing him with an unyielding stare. His appearance was as immaculate as the first day I laid eyes on him—his shirt tailored to accentuate his muscles and lean form, his hair meticulously styled with a few rebellious strands framing his forehead, all contributing to the façade of a charming, attractive, and well-mannered man. Yet, it wasn't his outward perfection that seized my attention; it was the reality lurking beneath—a grotesque visage, concealed beneath layers of deception. This was the true Tyler Ricci— rotten to the core.