Ambrose's Muse

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The regular updates to this book will start from June 1st onwards. However, that is completely dependent on me completing this book. The book will take place of Plum which will be reaching its completion this month.

So Ambrose’ Muse: every Saturday

Doe: every Tuesday

Both the above books are available for purchase as well and I will e-mail them as soon as they are finished [Doe already is]

Do think of buying these books, the money really helps me out!

New Plans:

1. If you just want the book: $2

2. If you pay between $3 to $5: Doe/Nymph/Ambrose’s Muse [any two] + Pure Poison

3. If you pay between $6 to $12: Doe + Nymph + Pure Poison + Plum [old version] + Pure Poison + Ambrose’s Muse

4. Above $12: unlimited access to all my Wattpad/Inkitt novels, as and when I complete them.

Bell’s life knew nothing but Ballet since her mother had put her into the classes at the age of three, she had wanted to be nothing else. Her dream was to be a Prima Ballerina, and she would do just about anything to achieve the dream.

When the first rays of sun scattered upon her face, she woke up from the dream where she was pirouetting to her heart’s satisfaction. But her real world wasn’t like that, she hadn’t practised for the past three days, and it was dawning upon her today. Since she had signed the deal with the devil, Bell seemed to have been losing her connection with the classical dance form.

And when he made the deal last night…. No! She shot up from the bed, her eyes glistening with tears. Bell wasn’t made for someone’s personal entertainment. Her dance was pure, she loved showcasing her talent to others. It made her happy. How could he weigh her dream with some money!

Ambrose Vasilakis was a horrible man with horrible fantasies.

A horrible man that now paid for her sister’s medical bills.

Bell gulped back, guilt soared through her stomach, and she bit her lip to stop her sob. For the past few days, she had been trying to drown the guilt and disgust in her chest. Guilt that she was lying to her parents about where the money was coming from and disgust for selling her body to a stranger.

A knock on the door brought her out of her reverie, and she stepped down from her bed. Bell turned the doorknob and found the devil himself standing. She found herself observing him.

Mr Vasilakis was a handsome man, but there was something evil lurking about him. His green eyes resembled the leaves of evergreen trees belonging to dark forests with sinister secrets hiding in them. They were a doorway to his corrupt and malicious and debauched soul. Her own eyes ran down his patrician nose to his full lips set in a straight line. His jaw was firm and square, and his face seemed to be sculpted by the Greek Gods themselves. How could there be so much beauty in one man?

Bell lowered her eyes, she couldn’t bear the intensity of his strong personality.

“As much as I like you naked, I recommend you to not open the door in that state,” he said in his velvety voice.

Bell frowned and looked down at her body only to realise that she indeed was naked. She gasped and picked up the robe on her nightstand. Quickly tying it around her body, she again turned to him.

“Bell, I don’t want you making this mistake again, I have other men such as bodyguards moving around my house all day,” he said. Ambrose was very cold when he had to be, but most of the time, he seemed to have this seductive power that lured you towards him.

“Okay, I am sorry,” Bell whispered. Honestly, she was just terrified of him, he was one of the richest men on the planet, and she knew what he could be capable of, their contract is damned.

“We will paint again tonight, but right now I want you to get dressed and have breakfast with me,”

“You don’t h-have to wait for me, please have your breakfast,” Bell said politely.

“I would like to have breakfast with you, I am waiting,”

Bell nodded and entered the bathroom. As per Madam Diane, Bell was not allowed to come with her belongings. Mr Vasilakis had strictly said that she was to be in clothes bought by him. Bell walked into the wardrobe, and her jaw dropped. It wasn’t like the tiny closet that she had, it was a big room with expensive clothes, shoes and bags all on display.

Bell picked out a flowy summer dress and ran inside the bathroom.


Bell walked towards the patio. The housekeeper had instructed that Mr Vasilakis liked to have his breakfast there every morning. The beautiful sun peaked through the tall trees in the estate. She stepped into the beautiful patio. It was more of an alfresco area with arches and birch trees overlooking the lovely seating areas. There was a pool ahead as well.

Bell’s eyes went to Ambrose. He was in his dress shirt tucked into sleek dressed pants. His shirt was folded to his elbows, and he wore thick-rimmed glasses as he perused through the newspaper. He must have felt her hesitant eyes on him because next moment, they were both staring at each other.

Ambrose patted the space next to him, it wasn’t a lot since he was a looming man with a significant and robust body that took most of the couch. But she didn’t want to go against him. Her eyes had observed the security guards patrolling with guns strapped to them. She was scared. Bell quickly sat beside him. He folded his newspaper and kept it aside. He took a plate and placed an avocado toast with bacon on it, he then smeared blueberry jam on a scone and placed it right beside it followed by an omelette and finally filled a tall glass with juice.

The plate was full, but Bell knew that a man of Ambrose’s size needed that quantity. He was tall and strong, his biceps flexing under his shirt and his tall, toned legs were muscular too. Ambrose towered over her, he was probably six feet four, more than a foot taller than her.

“There you go, my ballerina,” Ambrose said and passed the table to her.

Bell’s eyes widened, the plate was for her?

“Is this for me?”

Ambrose nodded.

“Do you don’t want this? I can get something else whipped up for you,” Ambrose said.

“No… a b-banana would’ve been fine,”

Ambrose’s brows furrowed.

“A banana? That’s all?”

Bell nodded.

“No, you will have full meals. A banana will hardly fill you up.”

“B-But I always have a banana…”

“No, wonder you are so frail,” Ambrose reprimanded, “now eat, I want the plate to be clean.”

Bell looked at her plate and brought the scone to her lips. She took a bite of it and placed it back on the plate. Ambrose was watching her eat, his eyes like a hawk.

By the time she was done, she was sure she couldn’t do anything else for the rest of the day. Each and every morsel was rich and flavourful.

“That wasn’t so difficult,” he commented “was it?”

Bell didn’t say anything but did shake her head. Best to agree with him.

She was surprised when she felt his fingers caressing her face. Bell’s eyes fluttered close on their own accord. She liked the touch of his fingers on her skin. Ambrose gently kissed the corner of her lips and moved away.

Ambrose took her hand in his, and they stepped into the manicured garden. Bell noticed how his hand almost engulfed hers. It felt odd, there was a sense of belongingness. Ambrose was the kind of man who simply put his claim and brand on something he desired. There was no chase, he didn’t have time for that.

Bell understood that he was trying to get close to her, he was trying to develop personal relations with her. The kiss on the corner of the mouth and taking her hand in his, he was up to something.

Was he trying to get into bed with her?

Alarm bells rang in her mind, she wouldn’t let that happen.

“Since when did you desire to become a ballerina?”

“When I was three, my m-mother enrolled me in ballet classes,”

“Which means you have doing it, for….”

“Almost nineteen years,” Bell completed the sentence for him.

“And you perform in front of the public,”

“Mr Vasilakis, you are making it sound c-cheap,”

Mr Vasilakis, Bell had learnt, was a narrow-minded individual. He belonged to the medieval centuries where men kept their women suppressed with societal mandates and belt. But Bell wasn’t his woman, and this was the twenty-first century.

“I apologise, I was just trying to understand the nature of your work. Have you been in any performance?”

“I have been in many, I was the lead in Sleeping Beauty, Giselle and La Bayadère. The last one has always been my favourite. To play Nikiya and bring upon those painful emotions! And when Solor and Nikiya reunited in afterlife… I could play Nikiya a thousand times and still never get tired,” she whispered. Speaking about ballet forget about her real-life tragedies. Bell could go on and on about performances, about the various emotions expressed by different postures. Ballet wasn’t just a dance form to her; it was art, and it resided deep within her soul. She had not only performed it but studied it, analysed it and imbibed it.

Ambrose observed her with his eyes. He could see how devoted she was to this art form. It was unsettling for him, on the one hand, was his possessiveness, and on the other, he genuinely wanted her to achieve all of her ambitions and become the best ballerina.

And idea flashed in his mind.

“Would you like to come with me for opera tonight, followed by dinner of course,” Ambrose asked. He intended it to be casual, but it came in a more authoritative tone. He saw her cower.

“O-Okay, I will be ready,” Bell whispered.

They walked back inside the house. Ambrose saw his cousin and former second-in-command walk up to him. Ambrose and Victor were loyal to one another. Ambrose was grateful that he shared a tight bond with Victor. The past sixteen years had been harsh on him, and things would’ve been difficult to survive if Victor wasn’t by his side.

“What do we have here?” Victor asked.

“It is my muse,” Ambrose smirked.

Understanding dawned upon Victor’s face.

“You found a pretty one,” Victor commented, “how much was she for?”

Bell’s eyes widened. Her face reddened with sheer embarrassment, and she lowered her eyes to hide her tears. It was like someone had reduced her to just money, she was more than that. She was her own person, an ambitious person, a hardworking woman and someone who cared for her family. But he wouldn’t know that, would he? This man who has been given everything in life.

He could never understand where Bell was coming from.

“Victor,” Ambrose warned. He wrapped his hand around Bell and pulled her closer.

Victor chuckled and shook his head, but he couldn’t help but run down his eyes on her body. Ambrose’ muse was indeed the most beautiful woman he had ever laid his eyes on. Just her mere presence ignited a flame in his heart.

He wanted to have her. And have her hard. Victor felt Ambrose staring at him, and he immediately averted his eyes.

“I will be leaving for office and be back by five. Bell, I want you ready by six, am I understood?” Ambrose instructed.

“Can I go to my room?” Bell asked.

Ambrose nodded and saw her walk to her room. He turned to his cousin and narrowed his eyes at him.

“I don’t want you having any interest in her,”

“I can’t control that,”

“You will have to,”

“She is beguiling, pretty and mesmerising. How do you think I will resist that?”

“I don’t care, I don’t want you looking at her and consider this an ultimatum,”

“She just got here last night, and you are already smitten by her. It is not healthy,”

“I am not smitten by her. She is just a model for my painting after that is done… she leaves,”

Victor shrugged and walked away from there. Ambrose folded his fingers in a fist and gritted his teeth. Victor was right, he couldn’t get smitten by her. He couldn’t keep her with him for long, he couldn’t fall for her. It was too dangerous, and he couldn’t do that to her precious little life.

Bell had to go as soon as the two months were complete. The thought was sour but had to be done. He walked out of the house.

Bell looked out of the window, her eyes on the scenery in front of her but her mind elsewhere. She had received a message in the morning, the first instalment had been transferred to her account. A smile appeared on her lips. Winnie could get her treatment now, very quickly and comfortably. Bell loved her sister to bits and what she was doing for Ambrose was a fraction of what she could do if it meant her sister’s life.

“I bet you are bored?”

Bell turned around. It was from Victor Vasilakis. The rude man.

“Hello,” Bell greeted politely.

“No need to be so polite, Ambrose is not here. You can give up the façade,”

Bell furrowed her brows, what was he talking about?

“I don’t understand…”

“Look, you can stop being this goody two shoes. I have seen many girls like you, an angel on the outside and a devil on the inside. Why don’t you drop that mask, and we can move forward from all these pretensions?”

“Sir, I am in my room minding my own business. I am as invisible as possible. Believe me, I don’t want to be here. My circumstances have forced me to take up this job.”

Victor raised his brows and sauntered in her direction; Bell backed against the wall. Victor smirked and observed her.

“Stay away from me…” Bell whispered.

“And if I don’t,” Victor taunted.

“I will tell Mr Vasilakis,”

“I don’t think he will have a problem with it. We are almost brothers, and we do share quite a few of our possessions,”

“I am not his possession!”

“Oh! It doesn’t matter. You are his, he has paid the price for it. Also, do you know who he is?”

Bell looked at him and shook his head.

“He is the former Capo of the Valentine crime family. He has connections that will screw your life and anyone you know. Just type Ambrose Valentine on the internet baby, and you will wish you hadn’t,”

And with that, Victor walked out of the room, leaving a shocked Bell behind. Bell scrambled over to her bed, and with shaky hands, she picked up her phone and typed the name she had been told. The internet took its sweet time.

When the page arrived, I released a choked sob.

Ambrose Valentine was indeed Ambrose Joseph Vasilakis. He was from the Valentine family and leader of the Italian mafia. Sixteen years ago he had become an FBI informant in exchange for immunity for his whole family. After this betrayal, he was thrown out of the family, and since then, he had taken up his mother’s name: Vasilakis.

Despite not being a direct part of the mafia anymore, he still was one of the world’s most dangerous men. Bell moved away from the phone and brought her hand to her mouth. She couldn’t believe what she had gotten herself into. This was what happened when enough time wasn’t spent on researching.

Ambrose Vasilakis could destroy her family.

He could keep her in this massive mansion, and no one would bat an eye. He could do unspeakable things, and no one would come to help her. Dread pooled in her stomach, and her mind conjured all the possibilities.

Could she run away?

Bell turned to the window and saw the many guards patrolling the grounds. They would put a bullet through her head.

She was trapped here.

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