Page 1 of Vengeful Melodies (Heaven’s Guilt Revenge Tour Duet #1)

Chapter One

Dreya Maeree Lorena

The radio host comes back on the station as I tap my pen in a rhythmic beat, my finger hovering over the call button while I stare at the number on the screen. I’ve been trying for three days straight to win VIP passes to Bradley’s favorite band, Heaven’s Guilt.

They’ll be playing in Remington on my birthday, and I thought maybe—just maybe—that would persuade him to go out with just the two of us for once. No Craven tagging along, not that girl from his job he says is trying to get with Craven.

Honestly, she creeps me out and gives me these weird looks whenever I’m around Bradley. I don’t know why. I’ve always been friendly and welcoming when she’s nearby, even if it feels strange that my fiancé has a female “friend” when he’s never had close friends of the opposite sex before.

I’m not a jealous woman. I know my worth.

Even when I forget, Wren is there to remind me.

Wren has been my best friend since we were kids—the one person who’s never steered me wrong or let me down.

So when he told me, blunt and serious, that the only reason Bradley’s new friend is around is because she’s fucking my fiancé, I wanted to scream no.

But a sinking part of me couldn’t ignore his warning.

“Well, ladies and gentlemen, let’s see who the lucky contestant is to win VIP tickets to see Heaven’s Guilt!” the radio host booms, hyping the band like they’re the next best thing since sliced bread.

My phone clicks, and the same man is on the line—my phone.

Oh FUCK. I did it. I won.

“Well, hello there. Who do I have the privilege of talking to today?” the man asks kindly.

“Dreya… Dreya Lorena,” I say in a jumbled mess. The radio lowly repeats my name in the background, and I cringe inside. I sound like a fool. What the hell.

“Well, Ms. Dreya, it seems you’ll be seeing the guys play November 25th. Now, our listeners want to know... will you have a plus one, or are you looking for someone to join you?” The man’s voice is deep, casual.

“No, I haven’t decided who to take yet… guess I’ll have to keep my options open,” I reply sweetly, pulling my lip between my teeth to calm my nerves. Please let this call end before someone overhears and tells Bradley before I want him to know.

“Well, come by tomorrow to claim your tickets. I can’t wait to put a face to the voice. Again, congratulations on winning two VIP passes to meet and see Heaven’s Revenge,” the man says softly. I can’t help but smile at his kindness, even though he can’t see it.

“Yes, sir, will do. Thank you,” I say quickly, and then the line goes dead. The host announces the next songs to get the station back on track.

The sweat covering my hands slowly dissipates, along with the adrenaline that caused it in the first place. Only once it settles can I draw in a shaky breath.

Well, looks like I’m going to see a band I’ve only briefly listened to when Bradley and I used to ride together. But lately, I’ve been driving myself, meeting him wherever he tells me to.

Sad, but it’s the only option if I want any time with him—especially with his recent promotion. Our time together has been shrinking. He works later and later, and each time I offer to bring him dinner or see him at the office, he tells me his boss is present, and the company won't allow it.

When I met Langston, he never had a problem with me coming before.

He even said it was always a delight having me around—that I brought joy into such a dull place, that Bradley was lucky to have me as a fiancée.

I always brushed it off. Langston reminded me of the father I never had growing up, his words echoing what I imagine a male parental figure would say.

So, since I won the tickets, I’m going to surprise Bradley at work today.

I quickly pack up my station, slipping my laptop and paperwork into my briefcase. I push myself away from my desk. If I didn’t want to better myself and escape Frieza’s Cold Bar and Diner, I might have already quit this pointless pursuit of a marketing degree.

Hell, Bradley told me I was stupid for chasing it. That marketing was for men who could handle the hard work, and that I was setting myself up for failure that would only reflect poorly on me.

The cold autumn air hits me before I can slip my arms into my leather jacket. After two tries, I finally succeed.

The walk from the library to Bradley’s office is short. I weave through the sidewalk traffic, passing Sinner’s Playground tattoo parlor. Music drifts out, catching my attention for a moment.

A man sings about losing a love that was never his, how he’d kill the version of himself if he could go back. He sings that he shouldn't have loved her, and her betrayal made him want to die. He wasn’t meant for happiness because the price he paid—his soul—was too steep.

My heart breaks for a man who loves like that. To feel that kind of pain is unbearable.

I couldn’t imagine living that. I’m thankful to Bradley. We’ve been together nine years, and when he proposed, I knew he was it for me. It didn’t take long to say yes. Now, five months from our wedding, I’m ready to spend my life with him.

A horn honks, snapping me back. I’m not sure how I made it this far, so spaced out.

The tall building before me casts a shadow that makes me nauseous.

Why are the lights off except in Bradley’s office? He said everyone was staying late to help with an important case.

I spot his car in the parking lot, along with one other. The sinking feeling weighs heavily as I step forward.

The cold doorknob twists easily in my hands as I drag the door open.

Muffled sounds echo from the room above—the same room I know is Bradley’s office. The rhythmic thumping hides my footsteps as I ascend the stairs.

I grip the knob of his office, twist slowly, and push it open.

What I see shatters me.

I can’t breathe. My legs feel like they’re about to give out as I watch him.

My fiancé is involved with his so-called friend.

Her legs entwine his waist, and her body sprawls across his desk as if they've done this countless times. She looks up at him with that damn smile—the one she gives him when she thinks I’m not watching.

I want to scream. I want to hit him, shove her off him, but my body just won’t move. I never saw this coming. How could I not have seen it? The way he holds her is like he’s never held me.

Moans fill the room. He doesn’t even realize I’m there—eyes clenched shut, moaning alongside the whore beneath him. His meaty hands clutch her uneven boob job as he finishes inside her.

I watch in slow motion as he leans down, capturing her mouth in a breathy groan.

Bradley lifts his head, a sick smile plastered on his face before his eyes lock on mine.

I watch in horror as he stumbles to cover his now limp cock.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” Bradley screams.

Amber’s eyes meet mine, a sickly sweet smile playing on her lips.

“Oops, looks like she caught us, baby,” Amber snickers, tits still on full display.

I fight the urge to gag—or slit her throat for fucking my fiancé.

My mouth hangs open, words failing me as my heart shatters.

“Fuck you. What the hell is going on? Are you serious right now, this bitch?” I wave my hand at them, voice trembling, trying to hold back tears that won’t come because they don’t deserve that privilege.

Amber stands unsteady, pointing her acrylic nail at me like she wants to scratch my eyes out or poke me. I’m not sure which vibe she’s giving, but it’s not one I’m worried about.

“Actually, you know what? Don’t even say anything.

Fuck you, and Amber. I hope that five-inch cock was worth losing your job.

And don’t come back to the house. Your shit will be on the corner when you get the balls to come get it.

Looking at you now, it seems your balls disappeared the moment you decided to throw away our relationship with a girl you said you wanted nothing to do with. ”

I say it calmly, sliding my ring from my finger and tossing it at him.

It hits his forehead and falls with a tiny clink.

Bradley looks like he wants to say something, struggling to pull his clothes on. He stumbles over the trash can as he rounds his desk, trying to get to the doorway.

I don’t give him the satisfaction of hearing whatever pathetic excuse he has.

Turning on my heel, I pull out my phone and fumble with it, searching for Wren’s number.

Shouting behind me quickens my steps as the phone rings. Wren's gruff, tired voice answers. “What’s up, Jupey?”

“Can you come get me? I just found Bradley fucking his assistant... I really need you right now,” I say, voice broken but trying to keep it together.

I can’t believe that asshole. I gave him nine years of my life. I put my future on hold, turning down opportunities that would’ve helped me in the long run.

“Drop your pin, babygirl. I’ll be there soon,” Wren says.

I hear clothes rustling in the background.

I know he’s probably naked in bed, reading whatever book has caught his attention lately.

The last time we talked, he was telling me about one involving a harem of men and one woman.

Wren joked we could start a harem, but I was set on my one man and one love story.

Now, that’s gone to shit.

Honestly, I’m considering swearing men off for the rest of my life and just focusing on being single while I earn my degree.

“Okay, babe, sending it now. I’ll be at Sinner’s Playground. I’m sure they won’t mind,” I say softly, pulling the phone from my ear and sending my location.

I push open the tattoo parlor door, and a tall man with a beautiful smile greets me kindly.

“Welcome to the Playground. What can I do for you today?”

“Oh, sorry, I’m just waiting for a friend. I just found my fiancé fucking his coworker and don’t feel safe waiting outside… but I can if you want?” I blurt out, cheeks burning from oversharing.

The man steps out from behind the counter, holding out a napkin.

I take it and wipe the makeup running down my face, making me look like a clown.

“He sounds like a dumbass for throwing a girl like you away. You’re good to sit here and wait.

But if you don’t mind, can I suggest something?

You can say no, but I know what helps when I’m going through shit,” he says softly, a smile cracking at his lips as his dark brown eyes lock onto mine.

“My name’s Grey, by the way. Sorry, I should've told you earlier.”

“Well, I’m Dreya. What are you sug—”

The bell chimes at the door, and I turn around, bumping into a man sculpted from God himself. I thought Grey was beautiful, but this man is heaven sent.

“Oi mate, you got a minute to fit me in before rehearsal for the show this weekend?” His thick Australian accent tickles my ears as I tilt my head up, our eyes meeting as he sends me a cocky, panty-melting smile.

My finger traces the now-empty space where my engagement ring used to be.

“Hey there, beautiful. Am I being rude taking up your time, or are you just here to lure unsuspecting men to their doom? With eyes like that, I’d bet on the latter.” His cocky tone doesn’t waver.

“Alix, don’t hit on my customers, man. Do I have to make it a house rule?” Grey groans, like this isn’t the first time.

With the way Alix looks, I believe it. Women and men must throw themselves at his feet just to get a fraction of his attention.

“Actually, Grey was doing me a solid by letting me sit here and wait for my friend to pick me up,” I say quickly.

Then, to the horror that is now my life, I catch sight of a very enraged Bradley through the tattoo shop glass.

Without thinking, I grab the stranger’s face and pull him to me, pressing my lips against his.

Great. Kissing strangers. Please don’t let this man have a disease. That would be my fucking luck right now.

The taste of peppermint dances across my tongue as Alix slowly entwines his fingers in my black curls, gripping my head and keeping my mouth against his as he battles for dominance with his tongue.

A loud crash makes me stumble back just in time to see Wren hit Bradley in the face, knocking the cheating fuck into the tattoo parlor glass.

“Shit... I’m sorry, I’ve got to go. Thanks, Grey, and um, thanks, Alix,” I say breathlessly, the stranger’s lips still lingering on mine.

I weave around the tall blond man in the baseball cap, ignoring his crystal green eyes and the kind stranger with warm brown ones.

I move faster than Alix can react.

Before he can ask my name or number, I’m out the door, pulling Wren away from the now unconscious Bradley.