Bella Rossi Novels & Stories

said Venita who was still in shock with a face full of smiles. With her girlfriends screaming, Bella had to step in to calm them down. She knew how happy they were, but she couldn’t allow them to disturb Isla’s TV time. “Oh. My. God. Richard is such a romantic. I wonder for how long he has been waiting for this day,” Rosie said thoughtfully. Caro grabbed Bella’s hand and asked her with stars shining in her eyes, “How did you feel when you felt the softness of his lips on your skin?”

Elena winced as they hugged and planted noisy kisses on each other's cheeks. The woman drew back and let her eyes run over Elena. “Who’s this Bella ragazza?” Rosa sighed deeply. “The girl I told you about. The one mi figlio is intent on making his wife,” Elena almost scoffed. What an introduction! She gave the woman a small smile and extended her hand. “Good evening ma’am. I’m Elena Sanchez,” The woman looked at Elena’s hand with a weird look on her face. “Oh no. Is this the bride? Look at her nails! We have a lot of work to do,”

Bella “ Holy sizzles “ gasped Selina “ you look so beautiful “ “ I know right “ said Adriana as she swiped her fake tears with her forefinger “ this is my master piece ,simply flaw-fucking -less amazing “To add to the effect she even sniffed” are you ready ?”

It had been a long time since I spoke to her, and I didn’t know how I would be received since we hadn’t parted on good terms. “Well, look who’s risen from the grave, huh, Marco?” The angelic accents of her feminine voice didn’t reveal the venomous snake she was. Donatella Rossi was an important figure in Italian society. Always involved in major charity and wine events, she masked her family's true criminal dealings. We were both old acquaintances and were not only involved in business. My liaison with her was certainly one of my greatest regrets. "How are you?" "Being nice?" She giggled. "Are you sure it’s the same Marco Bellucci who called me?"

Bella almost rolled herself on the floor, she let her tears drop. "Please, I have had a difficult life, if you say anything to him, I will be ruined". "Well then, I won't, my lips are sealed. Pay what you see there, and resign". Rosaline whispered, then she grabbed the Italian documents from her, and walked away. Bella punched the wall, hurting her hand. She fell to the ground and cried like a baby. After a while, she wiped her tears, grabbed her phone and called her last hope.

“She is something that must be controlled.” Aria’s chest tightened. The words hit deeper than expected. Controlled. Just like the prophecy. Just like the fear. Ryan didn’t hesitate. “She’s not yours,” he said. The woman’s gaze snapped to him. “And she is not yours either, wolf.” The wind exploded outward. Violent. Unstable. Aria gasped slightly. Her power It was reacting again. Stronger this time. More aggressive. “Stop,” Aria whispered. But no one was listening anymore.

Everyone could tell that he was in love with Bella, but she had treated him only as a friend. It's been two years since Bella worked at the Paris Fashion Firm, and her creations, like her company in Manhattan, New York City, are well-known across the world. Her designs have also been featured in Time publications, but no one knows what she looks like since she only uses her alias name and hides her true identity to avoid being tracked down by her friends and family. In addition to her English name, Bella, she also goes by the pseudonym Callista.

"No, Mistress." Bella purses her lips, the red lipstick glistening in the overhead lights. "No? Then I definitely have to hit harder."

His jaw clenched, their love a flame that burned through the deception. Gianna Moretti glided across the ballroom, her sleek red gown a stark contrast to her usual leather, her emerald eyes sharp, her braid hidden under an elegant updo. Her command of La Rosa Nera, a defiance of tradition, was a spark that ignited Kai, their shared pain binding them closer. She danced with a rival capo, Enzo Rinaldi, her smile calculated, her voice honeyed. “You’re bold, Enzo, hosting us during a war.”

She wants to let me in. “I was tryi—” “This song is for my baby, Cade!” The voice booms through the speakers, tearing through the tension like a gunshot. It’s sultry and instantly recognizable. Harper freezes. I freeze. In the center of the ballroom, illuminated by a harsh white spotlight, Bella Vercetti stands holding a cordless microphone. She’s wearing a shimmering, tattered white gown that looks like it was intentionally shredded, her hair cascading down her back like a waterfall of midnight silk. She’s wearing the diamond bracelet I…or my mother, rather…bought her.