Books That Take Place In Italy Novels & Stories

​But the peace of a Thorne is always a fragile thing. ​On the fourth morning, I went to the small library in the back of the villa to find a book. The room was cool and dim, filled with leather bound volumes in Italian and Latin. As I ran my fingers along the spines, my hand caught on a small, silk wrapped package tucked between two histories of the Medici family. ​My heart hammered against my ribs. I hadn't put it there.

The private jet touched down on a small, private airstrip nestled in the Italian countryside just as dawn began to paint the sky in soft pinks and golds. Elena stared out the window, her heart heavy with exhaustion and quiet dread. The landscape was beautiful — rolling hills, ancient olive groves, and distant mountains — but it felt like the walls of a beautiful prison closing in around her.

I had always had shitty luck, but with the series of misfortunes I had encountered lately, the universe had it out for me. Milan meant everything to me. It was the culmination of all my efforts and dreams; a way to show the world and the mafioso that I wasn’t the useless, talentless traitor’s daughter. I needed a plan, because there was no way in hell I was letting this chance go. Firstly, I needed to find Enzo; the lesser devil out of all the Moretti men. I found him by the pool, his practised strokes cutting across the water like butter. I could see his muscles rippling as he swam towards the pool’s steps.

Something was wrong. I sat back down slowly, my thoughts spiraling, it was an endless loop of tangled wire. What could’ve possibly happened? We were in Italy—far from the bloodstained streets, from the mess we left behind back in America. Luca and Matteo had been silent for weeks now. Wasn’t this the very quiet we’d feared? I looked around the villa. A soft breeze fluttered through the linen curtains. The vineyard below glowed under moonlight, the house was filled with the faint scent of aged wood and lavender. It was supposed to be paradise. Instead, it felt like a dream I was about to wake up from.

Delia Italy was supposed to be a dream. We landed in Florence as the sun was beginning to dip behind the rolling hills of Tuscany, painting everything in shades of burnt orange and deep violet. Leandro’s estate was a sprawling stone villa perched on a cliffside, surrounded by olive groves and rows of grapes that seemed to stretch into eternity. But as I stepped onto the balcony of my room, the scent of lavender and ancient earth did nothing to calm the storm in my chest. All I could think about was the man back in that cold mansion, sweating through a fever I had helped cause.

Three days pass. Selah and Collin are becoming better friends. Italy is a country full of everything wonderful America won't have. Exotic food, ancient culture, and the cuisine that will make your mouth water. Even the pigeons are sexier. Today is going to be the best day. Today, we get to explore the wonders of Venice, Italy. My abuse is running rampant in the back of my mind. Pushing it down makes this trip less magical. Talking about it makes this trip miserable. Will I ever be me? Will I ever go on and face the days of my life as I once did?

This date should be timed. The tension in between starts feeling electric, “So, I heard you've been in Italy for a while, what were you doing there?” “Oh…that, I…um…my grandfather stays there, I was just taking care of him. It's a nice city though, they have good food, caring people, though the environment can be a bit chaotic sometimes but overall it's good,” My explanation was from general research about Italy. I have only been there once and I was little. “I'd like to emphasize on the choatic part, you come across the Mafia guys or dated one?”

“The most important part of spaghetti is the sauce. The longer we let it cook, the better it will become. We’ll keep adding spices and constantly stirring, so it’s a little time consuming, but the taste will be fantastic!” “Did you learn these skills overseas?” Sybil nodded her head, “In fact, I found Italy a little boring. In the first year, I studied in Florence. The local economy there is quite poor, and the unemployment rate is very high, so they have a lot of social problems. On the other hand, they do have a very beautiful architecture. In the second year, I went to Paris. Paris has a profound culture and lots of delicious food. But if it’s your first time there, then make sure to pay

There was no chaos, no gossip, no shadows of the past, just him, me, and the kind of quiet that felt like peace. On Sunday, I visited Julien with Oliver. The morning light was soft. Oliver ran off almost immediately to play with the little model jets Julien kept on a shelf, while Julien stood waiting with a mysterious bag in his hand. “It was delivered this morning,” he said, eyes glinting with that boyish secret he could barely hide. “What is it?” I asked, taking the bag. “Open it.” I lifted out a stack of seven hardcover books, sleek, matte, and beautifully bound. Each had a country’s name embossed on the front in gold letters: Tokyo. Italy. Egypt. Cape Town. Dubai. Maldives. Paris.

But what he seemed most proud of, was a large book. ​ “I had Steve send me your measurements, so everything should fit. This here,” he motioned towards the book. “…is a book about Italian architecture. It’s filled with blueprints and plans of all of the famous landmarks and buildings. I figured you would like it.” ​ He was right. Audrey loved it. She wanted to snatch it from him and spend the entire day perusing it. ​ “Everything is great, thanks,” was all she said. ​ “What’s wrong with you?” Lucien asked, losing patience with her indifference.