Novelas y relatos de Mr Rude

‘Fine girl, I can see that you did,’ she said. Maddie spread a biscuit. Suddenly the crunch of the gravel sounded outside and the tall, muscular figure of Raven appeared. ‘Good morning,’ he muttered as he entered, grabbing a sandwich and hungrily biting it. Then he poured himself a coffee and sat down in the armchair in the dining room. ‘Tough night?’ Rodolf asked with a smile. Raven grinned. ‘Something like that,’ he replied, ignoring Maddie's eyes. ‘Yes, you can call feasting at night a hard life, of course,’ she said, sounding a bit harsh.

Thought of last night filled my mind so much and I feel I could write out every detail of how it happened. I managed to look up to the front of the class and he walked to the podium still smiling forcefully, “As I was saying before the interruption, I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to come yesterday, so… I’m Edwin Clark, I will be your Economics professor as from this semester. I’ll love everyone to be free with me and welcome to ask me any questions” The whole class gave him a stand-up ovation but I just sat there staring at him, feeling as though this was his ghost that came to haunt me.

"Mama... Mama. Scrutinize the chaotic chain reaction engineered by your reckless directives. Erika is now haphazardly establishing physical proximity with random, unverified entities across the social spectrum." "His profile is explicitly not that of a random, unverified entity, Papa," I interjected, mounting a frantic effort to construct a defensive wall around my actions, despite the reality that my internal strategy held absolutely zero long-term intention of ever cementing a relationship with Roy. "Roy commands an immensely high-profile status as a globally recognized disk jockey. His professional portfolio is heavily saturated with high-tariff commercial contracts..."

“Aaron, I think I twisted my ankle.” Aaron immediately picked her up. He looked worried. “Rachel, are you okay? I’ll take you somewhere to rest.” The spoiled brats nearby, drawn by the commotion, began whispering and pointing at me. “The Saddler family's heiress is fighting over a man with her illegitimate sister. What a disgrace. To think they’re the most prestigious of the four major families. Turns out she isn't any better than the rest of us.” Aaron looked at me grimly.

“The way he looks at me?” “Yes. I know. It’s how my husband looks at me, how Rafe looks at Marge,” she paused. “Max was right about her brother. He barely talks. And when he does, all he talks about is business. Do you know what they call him in the business world? They named him “The Ruthless Magnate”. And he sure to live up to his name. He seized property by property, whenever he gets the opportunity, building his empire of hotels. But everytime he looks at you, I see tenderness, gentleness, love. Something I have never seen before,” Beatrice gave her a smile and a gentle squiz in her hand. “Honey, whatever situation you are in, whatever set up you and my son have, as long as both of you a

Weeks have passed since a new treaty has been made between the Irish, Russians, and Italian families. I’m still confident in the choice we made and I’m happy that Misha was so accommodating and understanding of my terms. Misha is really jolly and I kind of like him for it. He also throws the guys off, which I personally find funny. Misha is a breath of fresh air compared to the normal stuffy mafia guys. No offense to my kings, but they can be stuffy mafia men when they want to be.

Somewhere near the bar, a man lowered his voice to ask whether anyone actually knew what Oliver Reed really did for a living, beyond whatever legitimate business he claimed on paper. Grace's expression shifted first, her composed smile faltering into something colder, more calculating, her eyes narrowing slightly as she watched Oliver cross the room. Lucas's reaction came a beat later, his easy charm slipping for just a moment, genuine shock flickering behind his eyes before he smoothed it back into place, though not quickly enough to hide it entirely from anyone watching closely. "The mafia," Lucas murmured, low enough that only Grace beside him seemed to catch it, disbelief coloring his vo

“Just a friendly observation, Aleksei. After all, alliances are fragile things, aren’t they? One wrong move and everything crumbles.” "True that." I replied coolly. “Alliances only crumble when the weak can’t hold their end of the bargain. Are you worried about yours, Hardin?” The room felt like it had shrunk, the tension between us thick enough to cut through paper. Hardin's smile never wavered, but I could see the slight tick in his jaw. Before he could respond, the door opened, and Mikhail stepped in, his expression neutral but his eyes sharp. “Apologies for the interruption,” he said, his voice low. “But we have an issue that requires your attention.”

He turned on his heel and stormed out of the master suite without uttering a word, slamming the heavy door behind him. Maren pressed her fingers against her burning lips and took a ragged breath to calm her racing pulse. She walked to the nursery crib and lifted her crying nephew into her arms, rocking him gently against her shoulder. The room felt far too small now, trapping her inside a fortress of gold and uncomfortable desire.

Vadim remarked, rubbing his few days old stubble. "I would have done the same, Vadim." He said, shrugging his shoulders, understanding his cousin's fury, and frustration. “I haven't seen Russo this enraged before, he's been wandering around, searching for his wife, looking like a God of death. He's uncontrollable.” He said with a long exhale. Vadim locked eyes with him. "No doubt. You two are the most feared leaders." He said with a smirk. "Brother! See! I brought your lost girlfriend home!" Their heads turned to the door as they heard a loud voice.