All Chapters of Mr Sinclair's Mistress : Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

Rosalie I’m absentminded as I take a bite of the breakfast Anna made for me. I tried not to, but I ended up scrolling through my social media feeds all night, and I found nothing but hatred directed at me. Despite Ares's best attempts, screenshots of deleted content are making their rounds across all channels. I’ve made it into every single gossip magazine, and they’re all scrambling to create timelines of my so called obsession with mt former boss.It came to no surprise to me when The Today's Herald reported on Natalia’s "pregnancy", which only villainized me further. Now I’m not just the woman standing in between two lovers, I’m also the evil wanna be stepmother.I wonder what would happen after nine months and Natalia is seen without a child. Or even a bumb before then. Watching my love for Nicholas being turned into a spectacle for everyone to witness is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. Photos I can’t recall taking are being posted online, showcasing

Rosalie More than two months. It's been more than two months since I decided I wanted to find myself.... sortaI missed my bestfriend, Anna and her boyfriend Ares, considering I was only four hours away in the next town. But we video-called often.I’d been in my head for months, and it wasn’t a great place to be. I needed a change of scenery.As time passed, I had gotten into designing and photgraphy. And turns out I was pretty good at these things. I had an eye for interior design. And for noting something special.After the whole scandal with him, I wasn't sure anyone would want to hire me as an interior designer. And seeing as it was my first time, alot could go wrong. But I refrained from mentioning that to my first client. I was so suprised to have someone put their trust in me. And It was also very nice to work for someone that wasn't Nicholas or in any way close to him.I took a break from my job when I learned there was a group of people using a tour bus to travel round a

Rosalie “Hey, Rosalie. The usual?”“Yes, please. Make it four,” I said as the barista rang me up. I frequented the coffee shop near the main building so often they’d memorized my order. “Thanks, Sue.”“No problem.” She smiled. “See you tomorrow.”I paid and moved to the pickup area, only half looking at where I was going. I was too distracted by the flood of new messages scrolling across my screen. Mostly from Anna and maybe one or two from Ares.With the way she sent numerous messages at once, one would think she's in trouble.She probably wanted to congratulate me on the success of the Picture Ball. According to her and Sarah, news outlets had deemed it “one of the most exquisite balls in the Picture Balls history” in their Sunday style roundup, which meant I woke up that morning with even more messages crowding my inbox.It was only Monday, and I already had twenty-two new client inquiries, five interview requests, and countless invitations to balls, screenings, and private par

Nicholas "My sweet girl, it’s so nice to see you!” Freya brushed past me and swept Rosalie up in a hug. She only used the sweet girl endearment for her grandchildren, but apparently, she’d extended it to Rosalie. “The house isn’t the same without you.”I scowled at her pointed tone. She’d given me the cold treatment all week. I was pretty sure she’d burned my pork chops on purpose the other night. I’d forced down two bites before I gave up and ordered takeout. It wasn’t just her, either; even Edward my driver had cast disapproving glances my way when he thought I wasn’t looking.My staff didn’t know what happened with Rosalie amd I. They only knew she was gone, and they blamed me for it.Hell, I blamed myself too, which was why I was trying to make amends.I’d spent the past couple of days since my call with Rosalie planning the date, and my nerves were a humiliating wreck. I hadn’t been this nervous since I was a high school freshman asking out the most popular girl in school.

Rosalie After our date, the gifts didn't stop. They kept coming. By the end of the third week, I was knee-deep in gourmet chocolates, gift baskets, and custom-made desserts. I didn’t care about fancy jewels or flowers, so those gifts didn’t matter to me. It was the little things that tore holes in my heart—the red velvet cupcakes that spelled out I’m Sorry; a rare, vintage Japanese camera I’d searched for for years but had never found for sale. By the end of the fourth week, I was torn between tearing my hair out in frustration and crumbling like a sandcastle at high tide. “We need to talk,” I said Friday afternoon after I left my lighting techniques workshop. Nicholas lounged against a light pole outside the building, infuriatingly gorgeous in jeans and a white T-shirt. Aviators hid his eyes, but the intensity of his gaze seared through the glasses and burned into my flesh. “Sure,” Nicholas said, unfazed by the attention he was getting. He was probably used to it. While he foll