Italian Mistress Novels & Stories

He said in a saccharine voice. I don't acknowledge his compliment and sit on his right. Before I can talk to him maids appear carrying our breakfast. Chiara is telling them what to do. Luciano looks at them and speak, "Ana, meet Chiara. She is the head maid and Chiara! She is Ana, il mio amore." (My love) "My name is Analise not Ana. So, stop with this bullshit." I say loudly and sternly. Maids look at me with a horrified expression. What is with him calling me Ana? As if we have known each other for years.

( Take her to the boss) Isabella soon began panicking as she would recognize that language from anywhere the man was speaking in Italian and this boss he was speaking off must have been their Mafia's boss. She tried to pull away from him, she went as far as trying to bit him but the man chuckled as he pulled his hand away just in time. "Fiesty slut non è lei quello che non pagherei per essere quella che scopa questa figa vergine" (Fiesty slut isn't she what I wouldn't pay to be the one fucking this virgin pussy) the man said cruelly.

The Mistress plodded along as a steady pace with the servant struggling to keep up with her. Along the way there were numerous stops, because at each picturesque overlook Eve wanted to take pictures. Because she looked forward to the breaks and was grateful for any opportunity to rest, Trish enthusiastically modeled for Eve's camera. The Mistress was glad to see that her servant was cheerful about being photographed, not embarrassed and sullen as she had been a few weeks before.

“Please pick up the folders, Ms. Escobar.” I bent down. My hands trembled as I picked up the folders and put them on his table. There was a long silence between us. Lifting my face to look at him, I saw him watching me intensely like I was some movie that piqued his curiosity. “You’re too young. Did you enjoy being my father’s mistress?” he asked with a blatant tone. I felt dismayed at his accusation. He was no different from the people in this school. “You ruined my family.”

Gritting my teeth, I pushed myself up from the ground, but before I could regain my balance, a woman next to me landed a punch, sending me sprawling back down. She raised her phone, shoving the screen close to my face, her voice dripping with mockery. "Look, everyone. This is what happens to mistresses!" The screen was flooded with fast-scrolling comments, and yet I caught glimpses of the vile insults directed at me. They said I deserved to lose my child. They lamented missing the moment when the fake heiress had caused my child's death. They added that I, a mistress like me, should rot in hell with my baby, for it was important to eliminate the problem at its source.

The Ndrangheta family was known for their intimidating stares, and Mistress Venita was a master of the craft. "Listen here, you slave, if I call you, you'd better answer immediately!" Mistress Venita screamed, her anger boiling over as she poured her wine onto my face. The liquid stung my eyes, and I winced in pain as I tried to rub them clean. "Ahhh, shit!" I cursed, the pain excruciating.

“My answer is no, Mr Miller. I will not become your side whore....” “Language, Ms. Robinson.” Jack suddenly interrupted her. “And you won't be what you're calling it. You'll be my lover. My secret lover entitled with everything.” “Saying it with fancy words doesn't change the fact about what you just asked of me, Mr Miller. A mistress, a secret lover or a side chick, whatever you might call it, it's still horrible, and I'm not that kind of woman.” Ana showed how disappointed she was before she looked away. If not that they were inside a moving car, she would have already gotten down from the car.

She walked away, deliberately swaying her hips before his face. When she was out of earshot, Fache said, "She likes you." Edmund seemed amused. "Really?" "Yes." The French man seemed convinced. "If you like her too, you both can meet up later. She's one of my girls, helps with serving my guests food and drinks around here, and she's very nice." Edmund wetted his lips without saying a word. Fache adjusted on the bed and narrowed his eyes at him. "Are you married?"

These two were really treating me like a maid. “Here, it's warm water Mrs Hales.” I said as I handed Nicole the glass. Nicole's eyes widened in horror as she took the glass from me. "Ouch!" she gasped, clutching her hand and recoiling. "Alexa, you've burned me!" she accused, her voice filled with pain and anguish. The interviewers looked at each other, unsure of how to react. And then a rush of accusations flew through the air. "She is indeed a mistress?" shouted someone from the audience. "Trying to harm the wife as soon as she finds out she is pregnant, what a heartless woman."

So, she's a lawyer. I watched as she tilted her head. "And this one? You're gonna tell me who she is, or should I keep guessing?" Damien didn't even hesitate. "She's my mistress. So treat her with respect." Dahlia blinked, something shifted in her posture. "Mistress?" She echoed, slowly. "Well then. Guess I should've been nicer." Fred cleared his throat. "Come on." Damien said to me, gently tugging me away from them with a hand still at my back.