Breakfast In The Palazzo Novels & Stories

"Besides. Having you here makes the pain easier to ignore." Giuseppe appeared at the doorway with perfect timing, carrying a silver tray. "Buongiorno, Signor Voss, Signora Sophia. Espresso with a touch of lemon zest, just as you like it, sir. And fresh cornetti, warm from the oven, for you, signora. The rose garden is ready for your morning walk whenever you wish." "Thank you, Giuseppe," Alex said, taking the cup. "You always anticipate our needs perfectly." The butler smiled warmly. "It is my honor, sir. Signorina Lila has already requested breakfast on the lower terrace. Young Luca is waiting in the study with the morning reports."

“Yes, sir. I’ll have the pictures sent to you within the hour, and we’ll release the approved images by this afternoon as planned.” The entourage files out efficiently, leaving Dante and me alone on the terrace. The morning sun is climbing higher, warming the stone beneath my feet. “Hungry?” Dante asks. I realize I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since... God, yesterday’s lunch. “Yes.” “Good.” He guides me back inside to a dining area I hadn’t noticed. A breakfast spread is already laid out...fresh fruit, pastries, eggs, bacon, coffee. The kind of breakfast that requires a full kitchen staff.

pale and clear and entirely indifferent to the weight of everything that had just shifted inside this room. Matteo looked at his hands. Then he looked up. "Can I still get breakfast?" he said. She looked at him. Then she laughed. Real and unguarded and from somewhere deep that hadn't been accessed in a very long time. "Yes," she said. "You can get breakfast." She stood up. Moved to the counter. Started making something that bore no resemblance to what Lorenzo made on Sunday mornings but was made with the same intention ... food as the ordinary continuation of life in the face of everything extraordinary trying to interrupt it.

The moment the doors opened, scent of coffee and freshly prepared food filled the air. Breakfast; the one meal Padrino never skipped. I walked into the dinning room, Padrino sat at the head of the long table, eating calmly as if the walls outside this estate wasn't on fire. Alexandre sat across him from him, lazily stirring something on his place. The moment I stepped in, I felt the air shift, I gave a short nod and took my seat. “I heard you brought a guest into the estate," Padrino said, not looking up from his food.

Chapter Forty-three—Misguided Romance(2) The receptionist wasn’t joking. It was a buffet. Gianna went down the elevator and straight towards the reception area, where she found a large breakfast buffet waiting right for her. “‘DOMINO PALACE”’ The name of the restaurant which she knew was from downtown, as she’d gotten a couple of bagels from there. She gulped hard, flushed even as a wave of embarrassment filled her greatly. The other neigbors at the apartment complex all trudged towards the buffet table, in her name, a clear banner which wrote,

“Are those cornetti?” “Yes, raspberry. Your favorite, si? Cristiano, our cook, he remembered, and Ms. Carson? There is a small gift here for you also. A welcome to the palazzo from the Signore.” Both curious and ravenous, Blair pushed the bedcovers from her legs and rose from the bed. With a cheerful smile, the maid left the room.

The other cars branch off, and we are let out, out front of the home under a colossal awning held up by columns. I carry Bennie as Bella grabs onto Tati’s hand. Teresa and Vito meet us at the door, and we walk inside. The floors are marble, and I look up to see magnificent artwork painted on the ceiling. The Palazzo is enormous. Vito’s home consists of at least nineteen bedrooms or more. This place puts my father's home to shame. We walk into the dining area, and a full course meal is prepared. How did Teresa have time to prepare this? I take my seat next to Bella and Tati; While Vito is at the head of the table and Teresa is seated beside him. The courses are then served, and everything loo

“Breakfast is waiting. Don’t test me this morning, Yasmine.” The door shut behind him, leaving me trembling. --- When I finally made my way downstairs, the dining room was already set. Morning light streamed through tall windows, illuminating the table. A basket of cornetti dusted with sugar, thinly sliced prosciutto, fresh ricotta, figs drizzled with honey, and a gleaming pot of espresso waited. Luca sat at the head of the table, his attention fixed on the paper he held in one hand. He didn’t look up when I entered, but his voice carried across the room.

Whisper I'm scared. But I couldn't. Instead, I practiced. Smoothed the pink dress. Checked my reflection in the window. Practiced the smile. Widen eyes. Lift corners of mouth. Look greedy. We pulled up to Il Palazzo, the most expensive restaurant in the city. A fortress of marble and gold. The kind of place where the mafia did business over wagyu beef and wine that cost more than jewelry. Volkov got out first. Scanned the street, hand hovering near his waist.

Like they were scared. Breakfast was in a sunlit atrium that didn’t match the chill crawling under my skin. The table was set for two, but Alessandro was absent. Again. I didn’t eat. I couldn’t. My mind was still on the rose. I needed answers. I slipped away from the atrium, my heels silent on the Italian marble. The De Luca estate was a fortress disguised as a palace walls lined with expensive art, polished floors, armed guards in tailored suits. Cameras in every corner. This place wasn’t just for living; it was for watching.