Books That Take Place In Italy Novels & Stories

I took my seat and he followed suit. We engaged in some lighthearted conversation, he ordered the most expensive wine. We savored the appetizers before deciding on our main courses. "So, Cindy, tell me about your travels. Have you been to Italy before?" he asked. I placed a hand over my heart, I had never even been out of New York City, "Oh, Italy is a dream. I've had the pleasure of visiting Rome and Venice. The history, the art, and of course, the food are simply captivating."

She disappeared inside. Elena was left alone under the stars, the cold necklace against her skin, Alessia's words burning like acid. The woman who loves the killer. Was that it? Since when? And most importantly: did it even matter anymore? Rome, Italy The following night The palazzo where the capos met was older than Isabella's villa, more imposing, more dangerous. Walls that had witnessed the birth of empires and the deaths of men. Marble floors where blood was easily wiped away.

The dangerous, quiet kind. Then it was gone. He leaned back, waving a hand dismissively. “Not the smartest move, Alessia.” “I’m fine,” I said quickly. “No one got hurt. Except maybe my pride. And my mother’s blood pressure.” He didn’t smile. Instead, he reached over to the coffee table, picked up a thick, glossy book, and dropped it in front of me with a soft thud. I glanced down. Top Five Universities in Italy. “Choose one,” he said simply. “I’ll take care of the enrollment.”

I look out the window again, but this time the sight that greets me is mindblowing. Italy is beautiful from above. I can make out the green hills that stretch into the distance. Unlike New York that’s littered with skyscrapers and busy traffic, the countryside has tiny villas surrounded by lots of fields. The streets are quiet and empty and peaceful. This is a place to return to after a busy day at work, I take the beautiful view all in, even though I can feel dread pooling at the pit of my stomach. I still haven’t wrapped my head around meeting Massimo’s family and the closer we get, the more anxious I feel.

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“And yes, it’s all a bit obvious, especially the book you left beside my bed. What was it called? The Wonders of Italy?” “The Splendors of the Italians,” he said. “Right. Well, we really should get back. But this vacant building is duly noted. As are the olives and the fresh pasta and the superior coffee.” We made our way outside of the building. “And don’t forget the museums, and the architecture, and the beaches and…” “I get it,” I told him. “Italy is wonderful and I should live here.” He pulled me in for a side hug, just as his phone rang.

mind as well I mention that he was looking hot as fudge driving with the vein popping hand on the steering wheel and the expensive watch sitting on his wrist that was holding the gear, I shouldn't be thirsting over him but I can't help it, I gulped down the lump on my throat tried to focus on anything except his hand. "Are you sure because it's another one hour drive to our place" he said emphasising our place. "Yeah I'm sure" I insisted. " There's a place in Italy but I don't remember the name of it, it's a place which is popular for its architecture and is mostly known for its beautiful bridges, ugh! I don't remember the name" I tried to make up a small conversation "Is it Venice?" "Ah h

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"I can love him." "I'm thinking you should come home with me. I can take care of both of you." "To Italy?" "Yes." When I think of Italy, I think of Fabian Belucci. I think of him on top of me pulling my hair. I think if him slamming into me like his intentions were to break me I'm half. I think of the Mafia. I don't want Nicko sucked into all that. "No. Not Italy. Anywhere but Italy." "Portugal? Spain? Argentina? Name it and I'll make it happen figlia mia."

Kira growled. “Oh fuck” Guila cussed under her lips as she stood up from the couch. “I'm sorry. Take care, we will talk later.” Guila said as she walked away. Kira fired a deadly stare at me before heading out of the room with Guila. I reclined on the couch and sighed wondering what possibly Antonio might have gone through. I picked up the book I had picked from the shelf. I realized it was an Italian book that teaches Italian. I started flipping through the pages even though the words in it made my head ache. A picture fell on the floor out from the book. I picked it up and saw a picture of a lady. She was so beautiful with dark curly long hair. I looked behind it, there was a write-up.