What Is The I Tatti Library Known For?

When I pushed open the oakwood door to the manor’s study, I never expected to walk into such a scene. Juliana was sprawled across the desk, her posture leaving little to the imagination. As if not R-rated enough, her mini dress was pulled up to her waist, and her black lace clung to her thigh, barely covering her modesty. She looked back with a smile. “Alessia, my back is acting up again. Matteo’s just helping me out.” Matteo, my husband and a Don, rose to his feet, a tube of ointment in hand. He didn’t look like someone who had been caught out. “She couldn’t reach her back, so I thought I ought to lend a hand.” Matteo grabbed the dressing and pressed the gauze against her skin. He sure took his time. Tilting her head, Juliana met my gaze. “Don’t get the wrong idea. We grew up together. That’s how family is. We don’t care about that kind of stuff.” In my past life, I bolted into the room and grabbed Juliana by the hair to yank her off the desk. She turned to the side, shoving me hard into the sharp corner of the desk. I hit my head on the cold marble edge. The next thing I knew, I was a dead body in the morgue. This time, I stood in the doorway motionlessly. Since Juliana wanted to play the game, I’d be sure to hold my cards close to my chest.

At the age of Twenty two, Sophia Romanov wanted nothing but a complete family. Her mother leaving them for another family at a tender age.. didn't do them any good. But just one night..changed everything. The little family she had began to bring together was torn away by her fucking Master. Her father sold her out! ~••~ 'You're a fucking liar. My father never lets anyone on this floor. No matter who you are, he doesn't let anyone on this fucking floor.' I glared at my phone. Oh how I wanted to strangle his neck and kill him. I could still hear the comment on my pajamas. His fucking deep voice that no one could actually forget. 'Well, I'm not just anyone sweetie. How would you feel if I were to tell you that...your father could give you up with just a word from me." He typed. I glared at the sentence, reading every word with pure distaste. 'Who are you? God? Lucifer? Go rear ducks or shit fucking lullabies, stronzo. You're not even a man such as L'Angelo.' I scoffed, wishing there was a way I'd record it and let him hear it. "Oh, pardon me sweetie..where are manners.' He typed again. 'They call me L'Angelo Morte.' L'Angelo! #The first book of the Fulleta series #Ivy

Matteo Ricci had been Don of the family for a few months now powerful, feared, and unshakably loyal to his family. His marriage to an Irish bride was meant to solidify the alliance between the Riccis and the O’Connells. The Irish believed they had chosen his future wife: Isolde O’Connell, raised and groomed for the role. But Matteo never intended to marry her. He chose Ciara O’Connell instead—the quiet daughter, the overlooked one, the girl the Irish never considered worthy of a Don. His family supported the choice from the beginning, but the O’Connells were blindsided. And Isolde? She was humiliated. Now, as Ciara steps into her new life beside Matteo, the alliance trembles. Isolde’s jealousy turns deadly, and Ciara quickly realizes the truth: someone inside the villa wants her gone. When subtle attempts on her life begin, Matteo and Ciara work together to expose the traitor without igniting a war between their families. To protect Ciara, Matteo must navigate political deception, family expectations, and a hidden enemy who believes Ciara stole the life she deserved. But Matteo didn’t choose Ciara out of obligation—he chose her out of conviction. And he will destroy anyone who threatens her. In a world built on loyalty, power, and blood, Matteo Ricci will fight to keep the woman he chose… even if it means tearing the alliance apart to save her life.

Jacopo's hands roved down my body, and he crushed me to his chest as the kiss grew passionate. A soft moan escaped my lips as I savored the feeling of his touch. His hard frame pressed against me, and I could feel the unmistakable bulge in the crotch of his pants. "You want me even though you know how bad I am for you," he murmured against my lips, his voice rough with desire. I nodded, unable to form words. The feelings I felt for him were consuming me, and I knew there was no going back.Sophia's passion and dream was to restore art. Accepting a job from a mysterious wealthy man led her into a secretive world of the mafia, art theft, money laundering, and blood. But even with the danger that now surrounded her, Sophia chose to lose herself in the arms of the heir to the dirty empire behind it all. Could she survive the passion of the Italian mafia and their business, or will she become a victim of their world?Vendetta and Vino: Tuscan Temptations is created by Amelie Bergen, an eGlobal Creative Publishing signed author.

“No one touches what is mine and gets to live,” he replies firmly, sending a cold shiver down my spine. “Alessandro, I am not yours. I am not anyone’s property,” I argue. He laughs softly. “Okay,” he says casually, as if what I said doesn't matter. “I mean it; I will never be yours—not your property, not your plaything, and certainly not your mistress,” I've already made it clear that I won't be his mistress; I don’t know why he can’t seem to accept that. His jaw tightens, then he scoffs. “He threatened you, he touched you,” he says, his eyes narrowing. “It really didn’t matter if the device was his or not; he knew what was coming for him.” In search of her missing father, Renée, a 24 year old boudoir photographer, moves to a new country and makes a deal with the FBI. She helps them bring down the most feared Mafia Don in the country, and they help her find her father. All she has to do is seduce him and get him to lower his guard—easy. Alessandro has been married for three years to the perfect wife, the princess of the East Mafia dome. That kind of marriage makes Alessandro the leader of both the South and the East of the Mafia dome and untouchable, Ruthless. Then one night at a masquerade ball, he meets her, the seductive stranger with a different accent. She looks like the typical type of woman he would make his mistress. But is that enough? Will his world accept a woman like her? It has been a rule for as long as he can remember that certain races can't mix, at least not from where he stands. Plus, he is a married man. Everything about her is forbidden.

My best friend and my husband, Lorenzo Bartoli, fought every time they met. Lorenzo was the Don of the family, while my best friend was his Consigliere. She always fiercely opposed his most ruthless, high-risk decisions. Tempers explode every single time. But there was one rule that they both agreed on without any hesitation. No one was allowed to touch me. Because of them, no one in the city dared to cross me. Until the fifth month of my pregnancy, when I went down to the basement vault to organize Lorenzo's guns for him. I opened the safe to see stacks of letters, hundreds of them, all unsent. I picked one up. The moment I opened the letter, cold dread overwhelmed me. The receiver of the letter wasn't me. [My dearest Sofia…] I quickly scanned downward to the final lines of the letter. [If I don't make it back alive, everything in the Swissie accounts goes to you. As for Vittoria, she's a good woman, but I have never loved her.] With trembling hands, I tore open the rest of the letters like a hysterical woman. Three hundred of them in total. Every single one was addressed to Sofia Finzi. Sofia was not a stranger. She was my best friend.