Breakfast In The Palazzo Novels & Stories

Marie blinked, for a moment, she looked confused, then like she seemed to understand that something was wrong breakfast as a tiny smile appeared at the corner of her lips. “I believe so, miss.” “Good.” I stood up. “Let's take the risk.” *** [Mancini Mansion — Breakfast Hall] When I entered the breakfast hall, everyone was already there. Alessandro. Isabella. Lorenzo. Salvatore and Clara. The atmosphere changed almost immediately, not as dramatically as yesterday, but enough for me to notice. I walked toward the table calmly. “Good morning.” Isabella smiled faintly. “Good morning, dear.” I nodded and took my seat and this time, the food in front of me looked normal, eggs, toast, fruit and cof

collection), I finally emerged from the King’s chamber looking like a half-asleep goddess with a tangled crown of hair and very little dignity left after last night’s earthquake-level honeymoon. Edric walked beside me, already dressed in silk and smugness. He kept glancing at me like I was dessert—which was flattering—but also infuriating because my legs still felt like jelly and someone had the audacity to walk like he didn’t break the castle bed. The shared royal balcony had been transformed into a five-star brunch paradise. There were ten-foot-long food tables, dripping with gold linen, and trays upon trays of: Croissants stuffed with enchanted cream cheese Glowing fruit bowls from the Sa

Prestige. But behind the flashbulbs and five-star gloss, the real story was this: We were sharing a suite in the Palazzo Pavone. A marble palace with sweeping velvet curtains and two champagne flutes always chilling in silver. Two people. One bed. One long, slow unraveling. ---

“Don’t think too much about it, Luna.” “Of course not. I have many other things to think about besides unimportant news,” she said with a smile. “For example, I need to get ready now.” She glanced at the wall clock before turning to Yona. “I don’t want to miss my first breakfast with the Alphas.” The main dining room in the Palace was far larger than Cassandra had imagined. Given its size, she was certain that eating here had never been a simple activity, unlike for most people. A long table made of dark wood stood in the centre of the room. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, creating a warm atmosphere that contrasted with the grandeur of the enormous space.

Today is a new day with new beginnings, so let us see what lies ahead. I got out of bed, showered in the bathroom, changed into an off-shoulder blue floral gown and white sandals, and then went downstairs to the kitchen. There will not be any need to serve me in my room because I know my way around now. There was already breakfast in the dining room, with pastries like Italian croissants (cornetto) and double-baked toast (fette biscottate) topped with jam and honey and served with cappuccino or espresso on the table.

she said. "What sort of blasphemy is that, Alessia?" Marcello began pulling his sister away from his mother's arms. He flashed his megawatt smile to the older woman and said, "You always look gorgeous, darlin'," kissing her both cheeks. Rosa chuckled. "Quit teasing your sister, Marcello. Bambi, come and have a seat; I made your favorites." Alessia glanced at the breakfast table to notice the hearty Sicilian Sunrise: crispy French toast stuffed with creamy cannoli filling, topped with caramelized bananas and a drizzle of maple syrup.

I squeeze my thighs together and force my eyes away. “Good morning, princess.” “Morning,” I mutter. I keep my voice cold. Flat. I won’t let his looks erase what he said last night. I meant nothing. Just business. I need to remember that. My eyes drop to the tray. Cannoli. Warm sfogliatelle. A cornetto split open, Nutella spilling out. My stomach growls loudly. Too loudly. Heat rushes to my face. “Breakfast in bed?” He nods toward the tangled sheets.

My lips tilt up as I turn around, but the moment my eyes catch Vivienne and Renzo watching me, the smile falls into a flat line. “Boss,” Renzo salutes me with a knowing smile plastered on his face, and Vivienne mimics him. Ten minutes later, we are all seated at a small dining table, staring down at a very American breakfast. The eggs are rubbery, the toast is burnt, and there isn’t a fresh ingredient in sight. Very typical. I catch Renzo and Elara grimacing every now and then, but no one complains. When we are done, Renzo clears the plates to the sink.

“Although I’ll tell you, if we were going to have a Luna, I’m glad it was you. Somebody that understands what it's like to work hard and have somebody give respect rather than demand respect.” I poked at the breakfast blob and egg spread—far more fanciful than any tastebomb I'd had beyond the House walls. Fresh fruit, warm bread drizzled with honey, eggs in three variations. It seemed over the top, wasteful, when I knew how much work preparing such a meal required. But I was hungry after the shift and fight, so I ate as I listened to the sounds of the palace waking. Voices outside were murmuring about what had happened yesterday.

“Morning, Bella. Thought I’d swing by and remind your husband who the real cook is.” Vincenzo smirked, still watching the pan. “He’s just here for the free breakfast. Don’t let him fool you.” “Well,” I said with a laugh, leaning against the counter, “if it smells this good, I’ll let you two fight over who gets the credit. What’s cooking?” Lorenzo chuckled, flipping a perfectly golden pancake onto a plate. “Breakfast of champions. Pancakes, eggs, bacon, and a side of my unbeatable charm.”