💮͓̽His Mistress💮

Headlines and Heartache.

It's the day of the party already, and I still haven't decided if I should go or not. I haven't spoken to either of the brothers, and my phone has been blowing up with their calls and messages.

I didn't have the energy to break down after hearing any of their voices. I thought being a whore was really easy—but it's not as easy as I thought.

Tears rolled down my cheeks.

I really don't know what to do at this point.

Should I give up my feelings for Raul and give Nikolai and me a chance? Or should I pursue my feelings for Raul and ignore what the world will say about me?

I'm so fucking confused.

Why does my life have to be this complicated?

I looked at the time and saw it was already past four. Soon, I'd have to answer his calls and give him my decision.

The ringtone echoed through the room, and I glanced at the screen—Nikolai's name lit it up. After the fourth ring, I finally answered on the next.

"Angel," his husky voice rained in my ears.

"Nick—"

"What's your decision?"

His voice was calm, yet deep. I was silent for a while.

"Pick me up at eight."

I could imagine his smirk through the phone.

"I'll be there."

I hung up and tossed the phone to a corner of the bed.

Now... I have to face Raul.

I threw the covers off my body and went to get ready.

****

The black dress clung to my body, stopping at my thighs with a plunging neckline, an open side revealing my waist, and a deep cut along my back.

I let my brown curls fall freely, bouncing gently against my neck. I went with just my gloss and my favorite chocolate-scented perfume.

A simple diamond necklace rested on my collarbone, with matching earrings and a delicate charm bracelet to go.

I slipped into transparent, strapped heels, grabbed my clutch, and stepped out of the room.

Just a few minutes later, I heard the doorbell ring.

I opened the door and was met by those beautiful gray eyes. His gaze roamed slowly over my body, and I felt myself growing hot and awkward under the weight of it.

"You look dazzling, Angel," he complimented, voice low and eyes darkened.

"You look good too, Nikolai," I replied, admiring the all-black tuxedo he was in.

"Let's go," he smiled, locking our arms together.

The silence in the car was suffocating. The low hum of the engine was the only sound between us.

Nikolai's hand rested casually on the steering wheel, his face unreadable under the city lights flickering past.

He looked calm—composed, but I could feel the tension simmering beneath his stillness.

I sat stiffly in the passenger seat, clutching my purse tighter than necessary, legs crossed, heart uneasy.

Why does it feel like I'm cheating on Raul, when he's not even mine?

The irony stung.

Nikolai hasn't said a word since we left the penthouse.

He didn't try to make small talk. No flirty jokes. No sideways glances. Just this... silence. And maybe that's what made it worse.

I didn't know what he was thinking. I didn't know if he was angry, disappointed, or just being quiet.

Maybe I shouldn't have said yes. Maybe this was a mistake.

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye—his jaw was tight, his knuckles just barely flexed on the wheel.

He's trying to act like it doesn't bother him, but it does.

My reflection in the car window stared back at me. Glossed lips. Smoky eyes. Perfect hair. Perfect dress. I looked like I belonged on someone's arm tonight. I just didn't know whose.

God, why did I agree to this?

I shouldn't be here with Nikolai, not when Raul haunts my every thought. But if I'd said no, I would've hurt him. And I couldn't do that either.

This isn't just a ride. It's a test. A line I'm not sure I should cross.

The car slowed as we neared the venue, the air inside thick with everything left unsaid. And still... neither of us spoke until we reached our destination.

The parking lot was filled with rows of luxurious cars. Nikolai skillfully pulled into a space and got out, coming around to open the door for me.

"Nikolai," I called nervously, my eyes scanning the grand, expensive-looking hall ahead—filled with powerful, wealthy people and swarming paparazzi. I immediately felt out of place, like I didn't belong.

He sensed it.

Without a word, he slipped his arm around my waist and pulled me closer to his side.

"Don't worry, darling. You'll be fine," he murmured, giving my hand a gentle squeeze before leading us inside.

But the moment we stepped in, the cameras flashed, and chaos erupted.

"Mr. D'Amano, who is she? Your girlfriend?"

"Is she your new slut?"

"Are you engaged, sir?"

"Rumor has it she's already with your brother!"

"Is Mr. Raul cheating on his wife?"

Each question hit like a slap, more invasive than the last. I instinctively dug my nails into Nikolai's palm, trying to ground myself.

"Ignore them, Angel. Soon you'll get used to this," he whispered beside me, his voice calm despite the storm around us.

I knew he was right. If I wanted to be in their world—this world—I'd have to get used to the paparazzi... and all their ruthless, prying questions.