Mello Matt Novels & Stories

The subtle movements by Eloha as she continued to cling to Vince caught my eye, and I smiled bitterly. “Maybe sister should return home. Father clearly doesn't want to see you, “ she said, a hint of delight marrying her voice, but all my focus was on Vince. “Isn't it quite lively here?” A voice reverberated throughout the room in the next second, and I tore my gaze away from Vince, staring at the entrance. Matteo walked in a common black T-shirt and black pants. His blonde hair looked tousled, and his eyes looked lazy, yet a mischievous smirk played on his lips.

and at me. Damn, Matt will be pissed...

Jodi said. “Oh my god, are you gushing?” Gabriella asked. “Matt is wonderful,” Jodi said, grinning from ear to ear. “You said that. Can I get more information?” Gabriella asked. “He’s sexy as hell in a Stetson,” Jodi stated with a smirk. “And?” Gabriella urged. “He has brown eyes and thick, brown hair. And he always knows the right thing to say and do. Oh, and he’s brave,” Jodi bragged.

“Hi, Naomi. Matt Kingston.” Fuck. Me.

That man wants something more. With a rage he can't identify, Ragnar slams the folder shut and slams his fist on the desk, startling Octavio. What kind of monster plays with destined love like that? And what about that young woman Katrina believes is her half-sister, who isn't actually? They are all criminals, starting with Mauricio Meló, who hid from Katrina that she was the universal heir to her mother's fortune with the intention of stealing from her. Ragnar takes his cell phone and dials a number he hasn't called in a long time. He patiently waits for a few seconds until the call finally connects.

he replied, a devilish smile on his face. "Smash it?" I recalled, and he nodded. Instantly, tears welled up on my face. Where would I get the money to buy a new phone? What if my mum called me? My dad? My sister? The thought drove me crazy. "I can't stand the notifications popping up on your screen yesterday. You know I'm kind of aggressive. I've broken the phone before realizing it wasn't mine," he explained, and I pouted my lips. How can you get angry at messages that aren't even yours? Well, maybe not everyone was like me.

he replied, his tone carrying a hint of frustration. "In your dreams! I refuse to be called your mate. I want nothing to do with you, so let's get this over with," I spat, my voice filled with hate. As I spoke those words, anger flushed across his face, but I remained unfazed. "I, Selena Gomez Rain, reject you, Alpha Duncan Durham Mendes, as my mate!" I declared firmly, emphasizing my rejection.

His voice chased me through the open window. “To hell.” I marched fast, the rain soaking through my dress, the fabric clinging to my skin. My hair plastered to my face, dripping into my eyes. “Damn it, not you too!” I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest as the wind whipped against me. The sound of his door slamming echoed behind me. I didn’t turn. I knew he was coming. “Stop, Ella.” My body trembled, my voice barely a whisper. “I won’t. I won’t stop.”

They struck up a conversation while I looked at the black haired one intently, my goal was to make him squirm. He fidgeted uncomfortably,“So-” "Not interested.” I cut him off, a bored look on my face. But then I thought of Caelum and how this would piss him off, I smiled wickedly. Leaning forward, I asked in a faux curious tone, “what's your name?" He visibly perked up “Matteo." “Well, Matteo, why don't you give me your number and we’ll set up something.” I winked at him flirtatiously. He eagerly nodded, his eyes fixed on my cleavage.

ISABELLE I walked into the dining room, my phone still in my hand. Matt was seated at the head of the table, shirtless, wearing only grey joggers that hung low on his hips. Breakfast was already laid out—eggs, toast, fresh fruit, coffee—but he hadn’t touched any of it. Instead, he was typing something on his phone, his brow slightly furrowed. He looked up when I entered, his eyes tracking over me—taking in his white dress shirt that barely reached mid-thigh on me, my bare legs, my probably still-messy hair.