Mr Wrong Mr Right Novels & Stories

“I’d really say that I love your performance. You never cease to amaze me. Since you’re done… I think it’s time I join your play as well.” Aria waved a hand to her assistant, signaling him on what to do. Gwen stood confused… this was the final move she planned on using against Aria… does she know something about this from the beginning and was playing dumb? Gwen murmured, trying to steady her head. Aria’s assistant walked straight to the television and plugged a usb in it. “What are you doing?” Mr. William asked in rage. The assistant didn’t answer him, he just picked up the remote, pressed the play button and the whole room went dumb.

“I know you wouldn’t stay angry with your mr vampire” I subconsciously smiled too and slapped his arm. “Did you know how scared I was? You just pinned me to the wall and…” “Guys!” Sorin’s voice suddenly sounded behind us, jolting the two of us almost causing an accident. “Did I come late?” Edwin slammed the break . “Have you gone mad?” “Mad? Yes” Sorin relaxed in the backseat pulling the seatbelt. “Mad because I had to exhaust my three days worth of speed to catch up with the car”

His voice held a lot of desperation. Leniela chuckled mockingly. "Well you are seeing me right now aren't you? She asked. "You know it's not the same". He argued back. "You just have to bear with it until maybe some miracle happens". "How about I perform one infront of you?". He asked with a smirk. "Please go ahead Mr Magnificent". She mocked. "Why not turn and look beneath your window". "Oh please…" she waved it off. "Just give it a try". He insisted.

- I’ll explain on the phone. —You’ve always been good at decorating, Doce. - praises Mr. X. Yes, X is still present in my life, only some things between us have changed. Only some things between me and Mr. X have changed. The jokes continued, just not in the same frequency as we had before. But when they happened they were perfect, indecent, and intense, to the point that I say that he is my virtual soul mate at all times. I really feel it… we have something unique.

"This is just allergies." I said: "It's March." She said: "I have complicated allergies." A man was already waiting outside the room at the end of the hall. He was standing with his arms folded and his back straight and he had the kind of face that gave away exactly nothing. Somewhere around mid thirties. Dark suit. He looked like a person who had been asked to witness a courthouse wedding on twelve hours notice and had decided to treat it with the same energy he brought to everything else which was total professional composure.

Now, everyone looked like they had peed in their pants… except for Kirk. He was used to this man. That was why Kirk never made mistakes… maybe he did, but just a few. The room temperature felt like it dropped to near-zero degrees. But all of a sudden, Mr. Wright’s phone buzzed. It wasn’t like their CEO to turn on his notifications. Nor was it like him to spare his phone a glance, but he did. From a scary-looking lion, the man transformed into a gentle soul. He opened his phone and typed in a reply, a faint smile formed on his lips.

one commented. Another quickly said, "You've got it wrong. That's Donna Caballero. The one beside him is just the mistress." The first person cast me an awkward glance before muttering, "But he treats that woman so well. She gets the designer gown, while his wife is wearing the gifted one. No wonder I mistook them." At that, I clenched my fists until my nails bit into my palms. … Once the auction began, I raised my paddle to bid on a few pieces. But whatever I bid on, Lena would simply add a dollar on top.

That evening, alone again in the penthouse, Luca scrolled aimlessly through his texts. There were dozens. Investors. Journalists. Family. Staff. But the thread he kept going back to was one with only three words in it. “I’m sorry.” Still unread. Still unanswered. He typed something. Deleted it. Typed again. I made a mistake. You didn’t deserve that. I can’t stop thinking about you. He didn’t send it. Instead, he closed the thread and threw the phone across the room. It bounced off the couch and hit the floor with a dull thud.

He's large, a little taller than me, and his muscles look like they'll rip the tux apart in seconds. I clear my throat to announce my presence. “Mr. Grey,” I harden my voice to sound professional, “I'm your ass—” he turns to face me and I lose my voice. The same face. The same eyes. The same cold, dark expression on his calm blue eyes. Killan.

“I—” But Andrine didn’t let him finish. “My husband is in a coma,” she shouted, her voice echoing through the hall. “My husband, Bjorn Rodriguez. And look at me!” She gestured to herself, her hospital gown a stark reminder of her vulnerable state. “I am Mrs. Rodriguez. Look at my condition—do you even care?” Armin’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching even tighter. The humiliation was palpable, his carefully controlled mask cracking under the pressure of her words. He could feel the stares from every corner, the whispers growing louder.