Alessandro Dellisola Novels & Stories

“There she is!” Every head in the room turned toward me. Mrs. Montclair remained perfectly composed at the head of the arrangement. “Jade, come in.” I stepped closer, feeling suddenly, acutely out of place in my simple morning dress. “These,” Mrs. Montclair continued calmly, “are the designers.” Designers. Plural. One man stood first. He was tall and dressed in a suit that probably cost more than my first apartment. “Alessandro Virelli.” I blinked. The name was synonymous with Italian royalty. Another woman smiled warmly at me. “Isabella Cortez.” Then came Dominic Valen, a man with a sharp bun and a sharper gaze, and finally Celeste Laurent, who greeted me with an unmistakable, melodic Frenc

He held on to my right shoulder, so I turned to face him. "Will you take your hand off my shoulder or I'll turn you into a mouse?" I raised my left eyebrow, glaring at his cold yet undeniably handsome face. "Whoops!" He immediately took his hand off my shoulder. "You two! What are you waiting for?" The guard on the table called us. He's looking at me from head to toe right now. I quickly walk towards him and say, "My name is Alenna Delevigne from the city of Nalaknabak. I'm a..."

Another huff with a roll of his eyes and he squatted down in front of me, setting the other bottle down and twisting the top from the Powerade. “Drink this, or I’ll make you drink it.” I stared at the bottle, unable to respond. For some reason I couldn’t shake it off. I’d been stupid to think that my fate was so far from Elio’s. Ella Delgado was a nobody who wouldn’t be missed if she were killed or sold as a sex slave. Fire burned my skin, and I drew in a hissing breath of surprise. Domenico’s hand rested on my neck, thumb moving across my jaw, tilting my head back.

“All I have to do is put the blame on Alessandro, and you know how ruthless the assassins are.” “You really are a devious man, aren’t you?” Daniella asked, and Alessio chuckled as he entered the restaurant. The fact that he was waiting for the rejection was something that I knew, but the one difference between the two of us was that I did not intend to give up simply because I was rejected once or twice. I knew to reach my target when I needed to, and I knew the methods that not even he or his father knew. But I was going to leave them with that victorious sense that both were most likely feeling right now. It kept them busy, and the busier they were, the less of a headache I got.

One of his men grabbed her and pulled her behind their protective line. Lorenzo's eyes locked with mine for one last, heart-stopping second. I saw a flicker of something—pain, regret, maybe—but it was too late. He had chosen. He turned, shielding Isabella with his body, and began backing away with his men, leaving me on my knees. As the warehouse door closed, sealing my fate, Alessi walked over to me. He reached down and pulled off his mask. It was Matteo Rossi, the son of the Rossi family Don, a man known for his cunning and ambition.

Columba and the others. “Apollo Frias…” said Mr. Apollo shaking Mr. Darrel’s hand, “This is my wife, Columba Frias… These are my team members, actually also Hansen’s team members. Here are Deddy Timmy Sinulingga, Olivio Clementius Lee, Xavier Ottoman, and the last one is Simon Vallas.”

Ollie knows I have a mate, just not who, and right now, if he knew it was Zander, that would probably not be the best thing. "I'm fine for now, thank you," I turn back to Daniel and respond with a forced smile. I could feel Zander's gaze still on me as we stood there waiting. "Yeah, me too. I'm all good," Ollie says, nodding. "All righty then, Alpha Wyatt will be with you shortly," Daniel says, his eyes glazed over as he shoves his hands in his pockets and walks over to the kitchen, joining Zander behind the counter.

I brought it up again and I’m not stopping until he gives me his name. “I’m Angelo.”

Nicolas looked down at his feet, not looking at the man whose green eyes met my brown ones. “I believe that it is right to first introduce you to your older brother, more specifically, since you know HIM, at least to let you know to apologize to him for your behavior earlier…” I frowned when I saw him looking at Nicolas who shook his head at the man. His eyes met mine for a second before he looked at the man “I’m Alessandro De Luca, Aurora’s father, and YOUR father’s prisoner”

He was trying not to be involved, but he already was. “You’re late, Andrés,” Alessandro said without glancing up even though we both knew he hadn’t touched the damn photos. I hadn't noticed Andrés walk in over the pulse in my ears and the heat rising in my throat. Andrés Falcone was a De Laurentiis Consigliere somewhere between fifty-five and sixty-five, but ageless in an odd way. He was bald with sharp Italian features, pale olive skin weathered by years of whatever happened here longer than Enzo and I had been alive.