In The Name Of Gucci

A week before Easter, Adrian gave me seven days off and had a ticket to Stockholm slipped into my bag. I thought he was finally learning how to care. Then I heard him talking to our son on the staircase. “Dad, are you really going to marry Aunt Bianca? What about Mom?” Noah was holding his model car, trying to sound brave. Adrian was quiet for a moment. “It’s only a legal marriage. Matteo is gone. Bianca and Sophia are exposed, and I can’t leave them that way. They need the DeLuca name for protection.” “Does Mom know?” “She can’t know.” His voice softened. “Keep this from her, Noah. On your birthday, I’ll buy you that Aston Martin model you want.” So the ticket was never a gift. It was a way to move me out of the picture. If he could put his family name on another woman, even for show, then I could take back the pride and ambition I had buried in this marriage. This time, when I left for the north, I would not come back.

What if the hero in your story was the villain? Nicole, a black beautiful Nigerian woman, arrives in Italy with Raphael, the don of the Italian mafia following their marriage in Africa when he came for business purposes. She expects to begin a new, exciting journey with him but when a murder that happened in the pasts resurfaces, threatening to burn their future, Nicole sees her marriage and world crumbling before her eyes. A turn of unfortunate events and a mysterious car crash pushes a young man named Miles into their lives and Nicole finds herself trapped in a maze of lies, betrayal, scandals and secret plots as Raphael leaves no stone unturned in inflicting pains to Nicole until she sees death as a means of escaping the hell now known as her life. Will they ever get their happy ending with enemies surrounding them, threatening to destroy both their marriage and their lives? Will Raphael ever be able to win Nicole's heart again and possess her as his once more? Or will he loose every thing as he lets his demons rage havoc in his life? This is a beautiful tale of two star crossed lovers fighting to keep their marriage and love in the midst of various deadly plots. But sometimes, the price of love can be death.

The death of two powerful Mafia Dons. The birth of two innocent children. Brought up away from the brutal Mafia lifestyle but forever linked. Dante was spirited away by his father's best friends to be brought up in the rainy city of Manchester England. He longs for the sunshine of his boyhood and cannot wait to grow up and have his revenge on the man who brutally murdered his father and take his rightful place as Don. Gabriella, brought up in the leafy suburbs of rural England by her mother's sister, is a spoiled Princess who mixes with real royalty and knows only luxury. She is kept in a bubble of seclusion away from the horrors of the Mafia but it is her birthright too. Two lost Mafia children forever linked by that deadly organisation and destined by fate to meet. Can they survive the lies they have been told? Is their attraction to each other love or hate? Or will the Mafia destroy them both?

An FBI agent, Chanel, is sent out into the field to take out a notorious Italian mafia boss, Vicent Giovanni, but she soon finds herself falling in love with her enemy. With her job and life on the line, will she be able to complete her mission or will she blow her cover?

Every Christmas Eve in Port Saint Giovanni, the Camerlano family hosts the Claiming Rite at Saint Giovanni Manor. Twelve girls stand in a line. Whoever receives the white-gold signet pin becomes the heir’s publicly acknowledged bride candidate. I am Grace Sorrento, the bastard daughter of the Sorrento family. If I do not receive that signet tonight, by sunrise I will be put on a plane to Chicago and married off to a Rizzo, a man rumored to have killed two former fiancées. Adrian Camerlano, the boy I grew up with, swore to me in blood three days ago that the signet would be mine. But when the moment came, his hand turned. With a smile, he pinned it on Lucia, the orphan his family had sponsored. Then he leaned close to my ear. "Let Lucia have her moment. No one has ever really looked at her before. Don’t worry. This is my estate. No one will dare arrange your marriage without my say." I grabbed his sleeve, but he removed my fingers one by one. "Lucia has no roots and no last name. Tonight is all she has. But you are a Sorrento. Even without the signet, no one will touch you." That phrase, no last name, drew every gaze in the ballroom toward me, full of pity and quiet mockery. The next morning, I boarded a flight to Chicago. When Adrian heard, he made one call to Port Saint Giovanni Air Control. "Ground every plane. Nothing leaves today!"

The mafia coalition’s family banquet had reached its liveliest point. Someone started stirring things up and steered the conversation toward the youngest Don of the Fumagalli family, Dante Fumagalli. “Dante, before you came to power, all those old Dons from the major families were falling over themselves to push their daughters at you. Was there ever one you actually wanted?” I stood half a step behind him, and my knuckles turned white around my wine glass. Dante did not answer right away. His gaze swept over me, cool and indifferent, before he turned toward Viviana Lombardi, who still held the crowd’s attention. “I wanted her.” Viviana spun around so fast that wine splashed from her glass onto her wrist. “Then why did you not come when I gave you that hotel key card all those years ago?” The calm on Dante’s face finally cracked. He frowned. “Your key card? Was that not for Enzo Ricci?” “How could it have been for Enzo?” Viviana’s eyes reddened. “He is my first cousin.” One question led to another and the truth emerged. That hotel key card had been handed to the wrong person by a Soldato. Because of that mistake, they had missed each other. Viviana burst into tears on the spot. Regret shadowed Dante’s expression. Just then, someone laughed softly. “What a coincidence. Was the key card really delivered to the wrong person, or did someone make sure it ended up in the wrong hands?” In an instant, every eye in the room turned to me. Everyone remembered me. I was the woman who used to trail after Dante Fumagalli like a lovesick fool. I turned to look at Dante and hoped he would say something for me. I hoped he would tell them we had been secretly married for five years and that he had been the one who pursued me back then. He said nothing. He did not defend me. He did not deny anything. He stared ahead in silence as if none of this had anything to do with him. In that moment, I pulled off the wedding ring I had worn for five years.