Italian Mistress Novels & Stories

She was actually cleaning the slab even though there was not even an element of dust. Both of them looked at Alessandra before bowing down before her in a respective manner. “Hey, you don’t have to do it.” She backed away, staring at them in disbelief. She believed in equality. Both of them looked at each other before looking back at Alessandra and nodding their heads together like some trained robots. “You are the mistress of this house and the partner of Master. We respect you, ma’am,” They told her in their thick Italian accent. Mistress?

"And from the look of things, this is not going to be very easy." Frowning I asked. "Why is that?" "He has the authorities involed-" He paused and before I could lay that off because of my connection with the officers here, he continues. "I'm afraid, you have no relation with them. They won't compromise -" "Because they are secretly working under a wanted or powerful mafia as well?" "Probably." He nodded, checking the laptop as a light shines in his eyes like another piece of information has been acquired. I leaned forward, my gaze fixed on him. "Tell me more. Where is this Russo of a guy located?"

“I’ve already said it, nothing is going on between us. “I don’t want to be here if it means the two of you are going to get divorced. “If you hadn’t sent my mother after me, causing her to make a scene at my place every day, Joseph wouldn’t have felt sorry that I couldn’t rest properly and brought me here.” It was true—I had encouraged Marcy. After all, a mother beating a daughter who became a mistress fit social morals rather well. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and smiled. “Monica, being a mistress isn’t as simple as you think. “From the very first day you climbed into his bed, you should’ve known this was the consequence. “And all this? This is only the beginning.” Monica flushed

Hair falling around my shoulders like I’d just been kissed senseless. Because I had. "Calvin Riego’s Secret Mistress? Sources confirm Silvia Moretti spotted entering Deva HQ after hours." My heart stopped. Mistress. Mistress. The word hit me like a slap across the face. My throat tightened. I scrolled with trembling fingers as the article went on to describe me as a “mysterious former model,” “rising star with a dark past,” and the “reason Calvin Riego might jeopardize a billion-dollar marriage alliance.” Every word felt like acid.

“Y—Yes, p-pleasure to meet you too. I'm not a young mistress, call me Camille— Matteo, please slow down…” So he could flirt? Not a chance. If he added more colours to her cheeks, he wouldn't like to meet my fist. “Matteo…” she whispered again. “Since you're romantically involved with one of the young masters, that makes you a young mistress. It appears you're struggling to keep up, you should slow down. She's barely catching her breath-” “Mind your own business, Gareth and next time, inform me sooner of the old man's plans.”

she asked in Italian. Silence was what she got in response and she wondered if feeding DeLuca and his grumpy friend were also part of her responsibilities. She pulled the phone from her ear and opened her email app. Still no itinerary. She was beginning to wonder if whoever was responsible for sending it was not doing so on purpose. The moment she found out who it was, she was going to give their number to Enzo Romano. Let’s see how they like being chewed out in native Italian. “Breakfast is long past Miss McKenna,” he shot back with clear restraint.

Christine asked surprised. It was weird that Ruth would bail on a trip to Italy. "Did he not invite you?" Christine asked. "He did and I declined," Ruth said. "Why?" "Because there was no use! He will just be busy with work ignoring me totally and starving me of what I desperately need," Ruth said. "Moreover I had planned on coming to see you so..." Ruth added. "Don't you know that Italy is the country of love? Who knows whether that would have been where you and him would have found your 'zing'" Christine said as she made invisible quotes with her fingers as she pronounced 'zing'.

I was supposed to be offended by that but somehow I find it cute seeing her do that. It reminded me of our dating days, she was always so cute when she was angry. “I came here to ask how we are going to do this? And are you serious about me being your mistress?” She asks, saying the last part in a serious tone. “It was just to spike you, trust me, though I do want to do naughty things with you but we are going to keep it professional like you said. This is a deal between us, you warm my bed for a year to pay back what you owe.”

She couldn’t bring herself to look at him—the handsome yet terrifying man towering before her. Justine dropped her to the floor. Her black cap fell off, releasing her long hair. The corner of his lips lifted slightly. “So, the restroom attendant turns out to be a woman…” he murmured, grabbing a fistful of her hair and yanking it harshly. “Please, sir… let me go. I’m just a worker,” she pleaded, her voice trembling between pain and tears. ---

She smiled with her eyes half-closed, telling me stories from Orion’s childhood, when suddenly a figure rushed forward and slapped the bouillabaisse out of her hands. The soup splashed all over her face and clothes, even into her eyes. I didn’t have time to demand an explanation. Neither did Mr. Hale. We hurried to wipe her clean. However, Vera refused to let it go. "Lyra, do you even know what kind of place this is? This is Mooncrest Pavilion! Where did trashy, poor people like you come from? You can’t even finish a bowl of bouillabaisse without packing it up, and you still have the nerve to eat here?"