Novelas y relatos de The Italian's Mistress Melanie Milburne

taken against my wishes, by death or even a mare human. * I stared at Melanie's body in my arms... looking at her dried tears...back there in the room...she was soo scared, I had never seen her like that...even though I had only known her for a week or so. Putting her in an ambulance which took her to the hospital, I saw Fabian... looking disappointed. "I couldn't catch him...he was too fast...do you think they are Brogan's men?" I grimaced "They are Brogan's men....it's not something you think about it's something you should know"

Leonardo Ferrante stormed into my house like a man possessed. The moment he saw Vittoria Greco lying on the floor with blood seeping from the corner of her mouth, his expression immediately turned murderous. "Have you lost your mind, Camilla Marino?" I stood where I was, looking up at him. "You barged into my house, pointing and yelling at me for the sake of a cheap mistress who isn't fit to be seen in public. Leonardo, aren't you the one who's lost your mind?"

And all I could think about was the fact that other men saw her like that first. Men inside a fucking strip club. If anything had happened to her tonight, I would've buried every bastard in that club. I didn't care if it wasn't my territory. I didn't care if it started a war. I would've killed all of them, starting with Ludovico Moretti, the fucking Underboss of the Moretti family. Once Marcelina was brought home, Doctor Silvestri took over immediately. He lived in the estate and was in charge of the medical facility I had built on the property.

Melanie I stared at Juan waiting for his reply and he offered me a wide grin closing the distance between us. “I came to take you on a celebratory brunch,” “And what are we celebrating exactly?” I asked with an arched brow. “You survived an assassin,” he added, like that explained everything. I gave him a look. “It wasn’t an assassin. It was Dante’s crazy girlfriend. She tried to kill me.” “Welcome to Città dei re.” I laughed, but it came out shaky, like a bad cover-up for the fact my chest still felt weak from everything that had happened.

She wears an elegant, long, red dress in a fifties style, her coppery hair held up by a pin. “That’s exactly what I told Martina,” the other woman seconds. This one is blonde, wearing a white one-shoulder dress, and her eyes look at me as if she wants to tear my head off. I arch my eyebrow, and she clears her throat. “But I understand Salvatore’s sense of honor.” “My friends, Paulette and Eva,” she gestures respectively to each woman who just spoke, both close friends. Of course. “Eva, right?” I say to the woman, and she nods. “You say Salvatore has a sense of honor?” I look at Martina with a smile before leaning in slightly. “The Di Santes don't know what honor is. Excuse me.”

Helena’s Quiet Return Far from the Moretti estate, in a sprawling villa in Southern Italy, Helena sat in a sleek leather chair, a glass of wine in her hand as she spoke to a man in an impeccably tailored suit. “I appreciate your help in acquiring Davis Enterprises,” Helena said smoothly. The man smiled, his dark eyes gleaming. “It’s a pleasure to do business with someone as… resourceful as you, Mrs. Moretti. But tell me, what’s next?” Helena’s lips curved into a slow, cold smile. “The acquisition was just the beginning. Zane and Maya think they’ve won, but they’ve underestimated me. Now, I’ll remind them what happens when you cross Helena Moretti.”

“One more word, Simon, and I’ll rip your eyeballs out and feed it to you, got it?” Simon nodded quickly. Tate looked at me, curious. I leaned back, turning my attention back to Milene, lying still. Her hair was pinned tightly, except for one piece that curled over her temple. I wrapped it around my finger. I couldn’t wait to see how controlled she really was. I carried Milene into the motel room and set her on one of the beds. I pulled a twig out of her hair letting her hair fall loose. I stood straight. Tate sighed. “ Her family and the head of the Mafia family which is Dante will want revenge.”

The bartender looked confused, almost as if she had spoken a different language, which she had in fact, done. Amara laughed after catching up on this. She waved the bartender over and relayed Melanie’s order to him as well as placing her own order, in Italian. When he left to prepare their drink, Melanie turned to her best friend. “You speak Italian?” “I lived in Milan until I was 18, but I mostly speak English.” Melanie nodded her head, mentally taking note of that as she glanced at her watch and looked around. The gesture caught Amara’s attention. “Are you waiting for someone?”

Definitely. I slipped into my car, tossing my bag onto the passenger seat before heading toward Lilian’s office. As I drove through the city’s chaotic streets, my mind raced through everything I’d pieced together so far. Every lead, every dead end, all pointing to Luca Delvecchio. I needed a way into his world, and tonight was the first step. By the time I pulled up outside Lilian’s office, the sun was already setting, painting the city in gold and pink hues. She climbed into the passenger seat, tossing her bag in the back.

Her eyes had widened momentarily when she saw him, betraying her shock, but she quickly masked it with a polite smile. “Good afternoon,” she began, her voice steady but lacking its usual warmth. “You must be Mrs Miller.” Francesca extended her hand. “Yes, that’s me, but please call me Francesca. And you are Miss Jordan?” “Yes. Susan Jordan,” she replied, shaking hands firmly. “I’ll be showing you the property today.” Leo couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. His hands were clenched tightly at his sides, his jaw taut as he fought to keep his emotions in check. He wanted to speak—to ask questions—but the words refused to come.