Adonis Vivaldi
I leaned back in my chair, absently scrolling through the dozens of articles and social media posts plastered with my face. The photos—those damn photos—were everywhere, and yet, all I could focus on was how good we looked. Yavannah and I had always had that sort of magnetic chemistry, the kind that turned heads, and the camera had captured it perfectly. Sure, the context was all wrong, but was that really my problem?
Sandro didn't seem to think so.
"Adonis, what the hell were you thinking?" Sandro's voice, sharp and scolding, cut through my thoughts like a whip. He was pacing the room, his hands gesturing wildly as if he could physically grasp the situation and throttle it into submission. "Do you realize what kind of damage control I have to do now? This isn't just a little gossip, it's a full-blown scandal. You're supposed to be smarter than this!"
