Ali Vitali Book Novels & Stories

“Well, you know…” “Elena, please, these men are not to be messed with.” He said, and I laughed and nodded. He kissed my temple and guided me toward one of the tables. The white couches were leather, and the table had D’Caprio written on the card. Alvize nodded at me to take a seat, and Viktor, Artur, and Nikolay sat by our sides. Viktor looked at me and nodded, I smiled and looked around at the men who were around.

The city blurred, and all I could see was his face. Leon Vitali was everything I was told he’d be,cold, cruel, calculated. Sexy. But he was also… watchful. Clever. Controlled in a way that scared me more than rage ever could. Because a man like him didn’t waste movement. Didn’t waste bullets. Didn’t waste women. If I wasn’t careful, I wouldn’t marry the Butcher. I’d become one of his victims.

It wasn’t a union of two souls, but one bright light kicking the darkness away. “Forgive me, mi’ lady. I don't mean any disrespect but just curious about you. Now, as I see the ring of previous Romero queen in your finger, I vow my loyalty to you.” Vitalli bowed respectfully and disappeared towards the exit. The motive of knowing about new thunder in Italy was finally fulfilled.

Ryan asked and the doctor shivered and shook his head signifying a "NO" After examining Valentina he said "She has suffered severe pains, its a miracle she is still alive." "What do you mean by that?" Ryan asked "She has a broken rib which she survived." The doctor said "Why would they hurt her? She was working for them, I saw her, tell me if you know anything." Ryan said sternly

I said. “For now,” she agreed. “But when he has exhausted himself… then we take his bones and build something better.” Over my dead body, I thought. Her father’s journal burned like fire in my memory. The experiments. The curses. The obsession with Vlad’s blood. “Speaking of building,” Valentina said casually, “how did you enjoy the Archives?” My shoulders tightened. She was watching my reaction. Testing. Always testing. “They were… enlightening,” I said carefully. “They always are,” she replied. “So many stories. So much filth. So many chances to learn from other people’s stupidity.” She tilted her head. “Did you find anything… interesting?”

This already suggests he is not that usual kind of Agent, like everyone here. Slowly, my eyes travels down further and stop at the black Attaché Briefcase held in his right hand. As I stare at it, he shifts it from his right hand to his left and I end up gulping after seeing the silver rings on his fingers. Agent Vitali. He is Agent Vitali. He is not the first breath-taking man I have seen in my life, but there is definitely something different about him. Something captivating. Something sinister. I have heard about him. About the tales of his infamous torture. He can crack the hardest of nuts. He can make even animals talk.

“You noticed the wine before anyone else.” Her lips curved into a faint smile, her eyes fixed on her reflection in the window. “I notice many things. Occupational hazard.” His gaze slid to her, sharp as a blade. “How?” Valentina let out a soft laugh, brittle as glass. “What do you want, Dante? A detailed history of my palate? Maybe I should publish a guide: Poisons and Perfumes, by Valentina Moretti.” For a heartbeat, silence again. Then his hand flexed against his thigh, the faintest crack in composure. “This isn’t a joke.”

“You think this started with war? With power? No. This began with memory. The vaults weren’t built to protect cities. They were built to hold what cities couldn’t process. The blood. The betrayal. The sins you couldn’t say out loud.” “And now?” Alessio asked. “Now,” the man said, “you’ve become something new. You survived remembering. And that makes you dangerous.” The man pulled a file from the seat beside him and placed it on the coffee table. Bianca moved first, opening the folder. Inside—photos. Old and new. Maps. Transcripts. Names. And then one grainy image taken in the outskirts of Munich. A man. Unmistakable. Matteo Vitale.

"That was just because, asshole. There's no fun in marrying her and I don't find her attractive." That was a fucking big lie. "This is the first time you're lying in an obvious manner, Roman Rico," Cleto said, his big mouth unable to shut up as usual. But he wasn't wrong at all. The Lilith Belluci - Vittoria, was fucking attractive. Even more attractive close-up and more attractive than the last time I had seen her. Everyone who I had heard her name roll off their tongues found her attractive as well. They all wanted her and I knew if they got the slightest chance like mine, they would have wedded her already.

Aurelio Valtieri stood by the long central table, his back to her, hands clasped behind him as he studied a framed ancestral crest mounted on the wall. He liked the waiting, didn’t turn right away when she arrived. “You took your time, Althea.” He said mildly. “You summoned me.” Althea replied, keeping her voice even. “Not Dominic.” “That was intentional.” He then turned around and looked at her. His dark eyes sharp and assessing, motioned her towards the chair across from him. On the table lay a thin, black folder that is unmarked, unassuming, lethal in its simplicity. “Sit.”