The Mistress

The Mistress

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WpMetadataReadComplete Mon, Aug 4, 20143h 1m
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Fiction
Romance
“They call me a home wrecker, a lover, a slut. A woman that has no morals and no standards. I simply call it business.” Isabella Marina was a mistress for the rich and the famous from mob bosses to con artists. In a world where the justice system is so corrupt, the only way these men can get a taste of their own medicine is from Isabella’s help. When she is sent a photo of Derek Goodwill, the infamous con artist of the 21st century that had just stolen over 20 million dollars of stolen paintings and artifacts from the Louvre, Metropolitan Museum of Art, and National Gallery Isabella sees the chance to make her name infamous. Derek refuses to date on the job, but when he meets Isabella he sees one of the most beautiful woman in world begging for him, and what type of man would he be if he refused? They begin to develop a friendship as they’re pulled into the world of drug lords, art, and fraud. With secrets that are about to be blown up whose going to survive? Sadly, this was just another day on the job.
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"They say you're innocent, pure, a virgin-but I know you touch yourself every single day, thinking of me." Her back arched instinctively against me. Breath caught. "L-Lucian, I..." she whispered, trembling, hands clutching at me as if to push me away. I smirked darkly. "Cat got your tongue, gattina? Tell me... do you dream of me every night?" "I... I don't..." she stammered, heat crawling up her neck, her body betraying her despite the words. My smirk deepened. "So... if I slip a finger under your dress, you're telling me it's not soaked underneath?" Her gasp, sharp and unguarded, made my chest tighten. Knees threatening to buckle, every shiver, every ache-utterly exposed. I leaned closer, lips brushing her ear. "You're mine, gattina. Don't you forget it." ⸻ Isabella Rose Ledesma, 22, should have had a simple life: nursing school, exams, late-night study sessions with her best friend. She wasn't supposed to be noticed. Not by him. Lucian Dominic Vitale, 25, is whispered about with fear across continents. Cold-blooded, calculated, untouchable. A man who built his empire on violence, who bends the world with nothing but a word-and now, he's set his sights on her. One night, in the quiet shadows of a hospital hallway, he saw her-not just her face, not just her body, but the fire inside her. She didn't know it then, but that night, she became his-his weakness, his obsession, his possession. Even when he disappears without a trace, leaving only the memory of ice-blue eyes and ruthless control, Isabella realizes men like Lucian don't vanish. They haunt. They follow. They claim. Across cities, across oceans, he watches every move she makes-every stolen smile, every soft gasp, every secret thought. Lucian doesn't just want her heart. He wants her mind. Her body. Her soul. And when he comes back, Isabella will learn the truth: You don't run from the devil once he calls you his kitten. You kneel.

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