💮͓̽His Mistress💮

Not Just His Mistress.

Angel's Pov.

The day ended, and our shooting session was finally over.

The throbbing between my legs had softened to a mild ache, but I still felt it lingering.

Raul and I left the company, and he took me to an upscale restaurant—different from the one Nikolai usually brought me to.

The opulent chandeliers and plush velvet seats screamed extravagance.

"Raul, isn't this place a bit... much?" I asked, glancing at the glittering decor.

He lifted a brow, clearly unimpressed by my question.

"Do you forget who you're with, Angel?"

His arrogance made me roll my eyes, but honestly, it only turned me on more.

Fucked up? Yes. But everything about this man stirred something wild inside me. Even his breath.

"It doesn't matter, tesoro, as long as you're happy," he murmured, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that coaxed a shy smile from me.

We ordered our food, and while waiting, we opted for a conversation, the air between us charged.

"Angel," he called softly, making me hum in response as I stared into his electrifying blue eyes.

"I don't mean to hurt you, but why did you start stripping? You had great grades and graduated from one of Malibu's best universities," he asked, and I sighed, knowing this question was inevitable.

"I... I needed the money—for my mom's treatment and my brother's college fees," I answered quietly.

He placed his hand over mine and kissed the back of it. The gesture sent a shiver through me, grounding and intimate.

"Sometimes you make me want to believe you're an angel, and other times, you act like a sinner just waiting to corrupt souls." His voice dropped so low I barely heard it.

I swallowed hard at the intensity of the moment, a smile playing at my lips.

"I wish I'd met you sooner," he continued, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles on my hand. "I'd have never let you step onto that stage."

My smile turned bittersweet.

"It's in the past, Raul. And honestly, I'm glad I took that job—otherwise, I wouldn't have met you."

He smirked, kissing the back of my palm again. His lips lingered a beat too long, sending a spark straight to my core.

"So, you want to be with me, Caramella?"

"I thought I made that clear last night, Mr. D'Amano," I snapped, shooting him a playful glare.

His chuckle, deep and rich, vibrated through me, fanning the heat in my belly.

"Raul, why do you own a strip club?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

He pursed his lips and leaned forward, resting an elbow on the cool table.

"Four years ago, I was in Malibu for two months, going through... a rough patch. I thought watching women dance on a pole, maybe having a fling after, would fix me. But I wasn't interested in just anyone. When I returned to LA, I left the club to a manager, since it turns a profit."

I nodded, emboldened to dig deeper. "Did you visit often?"

He smirked, locking eyes with me.

"How do you think I found you?"

My eyes widened, nearly popping out.

"What do you mean?"

He bit his lip, his tongue grazing the corner of his mouth, a gesture so effortlessly sexy it made my thighs clench.