Italian Mistress Novels & Stories

It is lyk karma’s dealing wth both wife and husband* *She had been parading as the #1 heiress of the country for the past decade, who knew that she was a bitch who grew up at some rundown orphanage at the darkest downtown. No offense to all normal orphans with all their moral compass function* *Can you believe the mistress’ family were working under her because she was the supposed #1 heiress, I wonder what they would do now that the whole stuff has blown up in their face* *I heard the mistress was harassed at work too…poor girl.*

He pulled me to a quiet corner and spoke in a low, threatening voice. “Bianca, you really dared to show up. So, have you finally come to your senses? Ready to crawl back to me?” “Don’t get too full of yourself, Tristan,” I said, casting him a cold glare. “Oh?” He arched an eyebrow, his warm breath hitting my face. His next words, however, chilled me to the bone. “I suggest you behave. If you return and become my mistress, I’ll cover all of Angela’s medical expenses. Otherwise, I might just make you even more notorious.”

"You are a pretentious bitch coming here to snatch the rogue king from me." Gianna stared at her. "What are you talking about?" "I have been his mistress for years. Years. I have shared his bed, served him, waited patiently for him to make me his Luna. And now you show up and ruin everything." Gianna felt a laugh bubble up in her throat. She could not help it because the situation was so absurd. "You think I want to be here?" Gianna asked. "You think I came here willingly?" "I do not care why you came. I just want you gone."

She asks herself in anger. How dare she, this barbaric country girl, how dare she take my limelight? She frowns. Here they are, the talk of the whole of Italy since a month. Signor et Signora Achille Dellucci. Caitrona trembles at the countless eyes that was on her. Adonis took her to the side, rubbing her arm for relaxation. "Cait, let's introduce ourselves to Madamè Clelia Duilio first," "Oh, Adonis Dellucci is here..." The aged but still make-up beautiful lady walks closer from behind them with a smile and a glass to her hand. Her gown is a masterpiece.

They’d bathed him in stale blood. He'd heard tales about the Mistress for years and he never believed them. The mere thought of a woman leading a Mafia faction was laughable at best and could lead to beheading an entire bloodline at worst but no one dared to investigate as everyone knew the Mistress was under Guerrero's protection. Besides, no one has ever seen her but every mafioso from Italy had a crazy story to tell about her treacherous deeds. Once, it was rumored that the Mistress made the then governor of Tuscany destroy a bill on closing the shipping ports and cargo airports for investigation as cartel wars were breaking out all over the state.

But all of that shattered the day their grandfather died—when Vittorio brought his mistress and her children into their home. Mistress. That’s what Cristiano still called her in his heart. His father might insist she was his wife, but to Cristiano, Vittorio had only one wife—his mother. It had killed Soraya the day Vittorio brought another woman into their home, openly claiming her and parading the children he had with her.

The Monticello Arrangement PART 1 Intro; Isotta Monticello is Italy’s quietly dangerous mafia princess not born to gowns and gilded halls alone, but to an empire stitched together from ports, secrets, and old debts paid in blood. She walks the world smiling, bilingual and immaculate, but beneath the silk and diamonds are the iron teeth of a woman raised to survive in a world that devours the soft.

“Please…we’ll talk later.” I nodded. “Okay.” “And who is this bitch?” The woman asked, looking at me like I’m some kind of garbage. “Don’t you fcking dare talk to her that way,” Matteo warned her, and it shocked her. “A-Are you serious?” The woman laughed sarcastically. “So, it was true. You got yourself a mistress.” My blood turned cold, and my body seemed to become paralyzed. Mistress? “Cut the crap, Stella!” It hurt me even more when Matteo said her name. “Isabella, get inside. I’ll follow you shortly.”

I scoff and shake my head in disbelief. I don’t know why he keeps thinking I would be interested in his blood money. I have made it clear to him that I am not interested. I am burning with anger but I keep reminding myself that this is Alessandro Romano, the Alessandro Romano, and if I dare say one wrong thing, it might be the last word I ever utter. I need to get myself out of this proposal without provoking him. I knew that getting caught up with the mafia had its consequences, but never did I think being asked to be a mistress to some ruthless mafia boss would be one of them. I should have never flirted with him at that masquerade ball because what the hell did I just do to myself?

I pushed my hair back from my face with one hand and turned to face the mirror at the far end of the room. There I was. Disheveled. Flushed. My shoulder bore the faint imprint of his grip, my neck bruised by his tight grip, and my lips parted just enough to catch the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. Pitiful. Messy. Silent. And this is me, Catalina Moretti–Lucchese. Wife of the most powerful mafia boss in Italy. A man whose name carries blood and reverence. A legacy built on iron, fire, and fear.