Alessandro Dellisola Novels & Stories

Alessandro's surprise was fleeting, replaced by a calculating gaze. He took another sip of his wine, swirling the deep red liquid in his glass as he studied Salvatore’s seething expression. "Are you sure about this?" Alessandro asked, his voice unreadable. Salvatore scoffed, shaking his head. "If there's anything, my teams are the best." Alessandro rested his glass on the polished wooden table, fingers tapping against the stem. "But Marco Donato is my Capo, and Delilah Donato is his wife."

“This is Ysolde. The witch who cast the forgetting spell on Serena when she was a child. She knows these creatures. She knows how to deal with the likes of Solmyra.” Ysolde stepped forward and gave Alexandro a courteous nod. “I have walked through the deepest layers of magic to protect Serena once. I will do it again.” Her voice was gentle, but there was an ancient strength buried beneath it. “Tell me everything.” They gathered once more by the fire, and Alexandro explained all that had happened — Serena’s abduction, their journey to the island, the magical wall, and his soul-connection with her. When he finished, Ysolde remained quiet, processing every word with measured thought.

Thirty -Jenna- "There's a girl named Janet who makes really good sandwiches." Helmer says to trying to break the tension in here, then taking another bite out of it. I looked back to Alcander and see him taking a step closer to him while his head twitches while he keeps blinking. Each blink his eyes would change, hazel, blue, bright hazel, bright blue. He took another step closer while his breathing is harsh. "Alcander." I say while I look over to Helmer and see him looking down at the freakin sandwich, not paying attention that an Alpha might just end his life right here with no mercy.

“Who?” “Alessandro Benedetti.” The name tasted like ash in my mouth. “A man I knew once. Smart, slippery, and always for sale. He has no loyalty to anyone, only to opportunity. Tonight, he was standing shoulder to shoulder with your family, and he made sure I knew he had no stake in this beyond profit. Opportunistic doesn’t even cover it. He’s a snake—but snakes are dangerous even when they’re not tied to one den.” Isabella pushed herself upright, tugging the sheet with her, anger brightening her features. “My mother and Gianna I can believe. But Alessandro? You told me once you wouldn’t have trusted him to watch your shoes. Why would they trust him now?”

She picked it up absentmindedly, expecting one of Marco’s men to send her updates but the sight of the sender froze her blood. Her brows furrowed as she read the short, venom-laced words on the screen: “if you don’t break ties with him soon, I’ll wipe out every De Luca breathing.” The name attached glared back like a scar–Isabelle. Alessa exhaled Sloan through her nose, steadying her heart. Fear didn’t come, only a familiar chill that spread across her chest. She turned the phone towards Marco silently. He leaned forward, his jaw tightening as he scanned the message. A flicker of anger lit his eyes but just as quickly, he dismissed it with a scoff.

Does Alessandro have an ex-wife who has already left this world? Or maybe… left his world.

Valentino says smoothly, “head of the Las Vegas branch of the Camorra, and his Godson, Carnage. Don, this is my wife, Nooria Delucca.” Don Martinez turns, his dark eyes lighting with interest as they land on me. He offers a slight bow of his head. “Mrs. Delucca. A pleasure. I must say, your husband has excellent taste.” I incline my head politely, keeping my voice steady. “It’s an honor to meet you, Don Martinez.” Carnage – which I'm pretty sure is his nickname – snorts a laugh. “I'd never guess the infamous Valentino Delucca got married. I always swore you'll die single "

All of him, I need him like he’s the last thing on earth desperate to finally complete what my body has been craving these last few weeks. He spins me around so I’m straddling him and pulls me into a rough, deep kiss full of desperation and desire his hands not leaving me only making me squirm for more of the sensation. “Fucking hell, get a room.” a voice behind us shouts before pushing Oliver to the side, earning themselves a growl of frustration. I peek over his shoulder only to see an annoyed-looking Danny sulking at the end of the booth, tossing back a drink that a waitress had just handed him.

“Annalisa! You’ve returned. And who is this strapping young lad accompanying you?” We found the Duke seated behind a massive oak desk, a stack of parchments sprawled before him. He was a bear of a man, with a thick salt-and-pepper beard and a gaze that could curdle milk. My apprehension spiked, but I held Annalisa’s encouraging gaze and stepped forward. “Father,” Annalisa announced, her voice bright and cheery, “this is Adrian. Sir Adrian Sforza, to be precise.” The Duke gave me a once-over that felt like an X-ray. Every muscle in my body tensed. Finally, he spoke, his voice surprisingly deep and gravelly.