Bella Rossi Novels & Stories

Bella turned. Marco Rossi stood there. Older than she expected. He was still wearing that same sharp suit with his cold eyes and a smile that didn’t reach them. She took a small step back. “I’m not dancing right now.” He held out his hand. “One dance. For old times’ sake. Your father and I had many deals together.” Bella’s stomach twisted. She looked around for Mikhail or Viktor but she couldn’t see them. Rossi smiled wider. “Just one dance. Or are you scared?”

“She’s been asking questions. About your schedule. About which rooms you use. About when Mr. Rossi leaves you alone. One of the drivers heard her talking to someone on the phone. She mentioned a price.” My hands went cold. “A price for what?” He didn’t answer directly. He just looked at me and said, “You should tell Mr. Rossi when he gets back. I already sent him a message but… be careful.” I nodded and he left. I stood there with the information sitting heavy in my chest. Bella. Alessandro’s old lover. The woman who had been on his lap the first time I barged into his office. The one who had warned me to stay away. Of course she would try something now that the war had everyone stretched th

" Hello everyone! May I have your attention!" The chatter dies down as the crowd look at the elder. Anticipating. " Everyone! Today we found another reason to add on to our days celebration!" " Our Queen Scarlett Lockwood along with her team has successfully resolved the ever ending dispute over the northern province!" " And I with great honour would like to reward her with the entitlement of...the Golden medal for the best and the first Beta female in history!" Scar looked shocked. The title was the most prestigious award ever given to a Beta.

Rina reluctantly sat up and Vera walked over to get her phone. She frowned when she saw the caller ID, wondering why she was getting that kind of call from so late at night. No doubt, whatever she wanted to say must be important enough for her to disturb this late. "Hello." "Hello, Madam." A soft voice uttered, "Its me, Bella." "I know," Vera retorted coldly, annoyed at the disturbance. Bella was a maid at one of the Romero Villas where Damien resided, because he blatantly refused to come home to Rina, and refused her from going to meet him at the villa.

He saw her pulling up in a midnight black Bugatti Chiron, the engine purring like a predator as she stepped out. Isabella Rossi, 28, a Sicilian-American lawyer with olive skin, long raven hair, and striking dark eyes. Her body was a masterpiece — full, firm breasts, a narrow waist, and long, sculpted legs. She wore a fitted red dress that clung to her curves like liquid silk, the fabric riding high on her thighs as she moved. Luca’s eyes locked on her. The way she handled the powerful car, the confidence in her stride — it sent his blood rushing south.

Her gaze was slow, she took in my messy hair, the wrinkled dress, and the cheap cardigan. She took a sip of her coffee. "You must be the stray dog," she said. Her voice was smooth but cold as ice. I pulled the cardigan tighter around myself. "I'm Elena." "I know who you are," she replied, setting the cup down on the counter with a soft clink. "Elena Rossi daughter of the Rat." She walked toward me, moving with a grace that made me feel clumsy and stopped a few feet away. "I am Bianca," she said. "Bianca Ricci."

I interrupt, voice suddenly gaining force, squeezed from deep in my abdominal cavity like blood, "Otherwise you’ll take them from me? Like you planned? Let Vittoria raise them? She’s screaming in a warehouse now, Alessandro. Your planned 'pure bloodline' is screaming. And I, this 'polluted Rossi,' this 'ghost'—I gave birth to them. I birthed them through pain. Now take me to them, or tomorrow I’ll declare before the Commission that the Marino heirs are bastards born of a mother who refuses to acknowledge them." His face changes. That Don’s calm mask cracks. He knows I’ll do it. Rossi women, even half-dead, can destroy empires with a single mouth. "Fine," he stands, voice softening, that cajo

She attacked my lips and in a swift move, she was straddling me, her hands in my hair. Camila, Camila, Camila. Camila Brinx- Camorra. Deep, open mouthed kisses, mixed with the cool air of the night, a dream. Our lips felt perfect against each other, she felt perfect in my arms. The sound of the ocean now rushing, or maybe that was my blood rushing through my veins, kick starting my adrenaline. Whenever I'm with Camila, it's like a fever dream.

Orlanda stepped forward and said, “Whichever surname you go by, we’ll still be a family, and you’ll still be our granddaughter.” Alessia grinned. “Okay.” My eyes snapped up to find Eros looking at me. It was finally my cue to speak. “Hi. I’m Bella. Isobel Rossi.” Salvatore Castellanos’s eyes hardened on me as though he was judging me with his stare. Oh, he knew what Elias had sent me here for and the damage I could’ve caused his son. He averted his eyes at his granddaughter and I felt like I could finally breathe. “They know who you are.” Eros stepped up to me, carrying the aura I had witnessed the first day I had met him, cool and funny. “We got off on the wrong foot last time,” he asserted

Bella grabbed her coffee and escaped to the backyard, her hands shaking so badly she had to set the mug down. Not yet. As if it was inevitable. As if they were all just waiting for the right moment to cross a line that should never be crossed. She paced the small patio, trying to sort through the tangle in her chest. Guilt. Anger. Confusion. And underneath it all, something she didn't want to name. Want. Her phone buzzed. Unknown Number: Is this Bella Black? She frowned. Yes. Who is this?