Chef Luca Corleone Novels & Stories

I eyed him as i scrunched up my nose in mock disgust before but still took the glass from his hand. "Thanks, I guess." My reluctant voice rang out. Luca chuckled and sat beside her, he let out a deep sigh and stretched his long legs under the table. His sharp eyes returned to Coran and Ava as he watched the notorious mafia boss sway gently to the love song. A smirk played on his lips, "I swear to God, I'm never letting him live this down," Luca unconsciously muttered. i raised an eyebrow at him , giving him a questioning gaze. "Why? Because he's in love?" I asked.

Kyle deliberately drawled, glancing at Olivia, teasingly adding, "Maybe she was a pufferfish in her past life, needing to get mad every day to avoid exploding. Right, Claire?" Before I could say anything, Louis fake-smiled and pulled me away from Kyle's grasp. He put his arm around my waist, staring at Kyle, and said, "I've heard about you, the eldest son of the Lucchese family. You made quite a name for yourself during the last forest hunt."

“Now what exactly is Luca's plan, Luca? I believe you've held out on me, enough.” Luca's face switched up from the previous comical look on his face to a blank, business - like expression. He held out a picture showing a rather lovely hotel with the name “Sole Dorato" engraved in huge letters at its entrance. “This is where you're going,” He supplied. “My men have done some digging, and this hotel is suspected to house mafia activities.”

When Luca came home that day, he smiled for the first time in ages as he carried two gift boxes into the living room. One was a license granting me the rights to run his chain of bars. The other was a couture dress Elena had wanted for half a year. As we were opening the gifts, Sergio, who wasn't home, called Luca. "Don Lorusso, the Capone family used the negotiations as a cover to set me up. They cornered me in an underground club, demanding the location of the weapons." Luca rushed out without even putting on his coat. "Janella, take care of Elena. I'll be back soon."

“Because I finally understood that everything I was guarding no longer belonged to me.” The line stayed quiet. “For ten years I built rooms for your family to walk into. I turned chaos into order and disgrace into respectability. I did it so well that all of you started believing those rooms would stand without me. Then Adrian used my work as if it were his to hand to another woman.” “Evelyn—” “No. Let me finish.” My voice was calm. That was what startled men like Vito more than tears ever did. “You think I can’t let go of the DeLuca name, the house, the money. What I had trouble letting go of was the life I built with my own hands. Now that I’ve stepped away, the rest of it looks much small

Diego’s POV The light from my laptop screen bathed my cluttered desk in a ghostly glow. I leaned forward, eyes skimming over the records I’d assembled over the past few days. Every bit of information I found led to something deeper, something darker than I’d thought. I thought I was on the verge of revealing Dominic for the criminal genius he was. But when I dug deeper, something else bubbled to the top. The name DeLuca. I froze. Pedro DeLuca was no petty mafia boss. He was a living legend in Rome, a man whose very name struck fear into the hearts of even the most hardened of criminals.

The dining room was a spectacle of wealth—golden chandeliers and crystal glasses caught the candlelight and they and other items of luxury was only a display of power that had been carefully curated for those foolish enough to be impressed by such things. At the center of it all, Teodoro Lucchese. He sat with the arrogance of a man who believed himself untouchable. His suit was tailored to perfection and his dark eyes assessed me the way one might evaluate a prized possession as I came closer. As hr continued to study me, the boredom in his expression faded and was replaced by something far more predatory. I wasn't surprised to see the look—I had always have that effect on men. Teo Lucchese

When Gabriel, the head chef saw me, he sighed. “What does he wantnow?” he said. “Tiramisú,” I said, forcing a smile. “Right. Hey, Giuliano! Guess what!” From the back of the kitchen, the pastry chef swore. I went out of the kitchen, shaking my head. But when I got there, Luca wasn’t at his table. He was standing in front of the cash register behind the bar, with his back to me. I stepped forward, and looked over the bar. My eyes widened.

“I heard you didn’t eat all day. You need to eat something.” “I’m not hungry,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. He stepped closer, his presence looming. “Stop being stubborn, Lucia. Sit down and eat.” He turned to Maria. “Set the table.” Reluctantly, I sat at the farthest end of the table. Lorenzo took his seat across from me, watching my every move. Maria served the meal—roasted chicken with vegetables and freshly baked bread. The aroma was enticing, and despite myself, I picked up my fork and started to eat. The food was delicious, and I realized how hungry I truly was.

Luigi watched them before finally going to another room where an old man was watching TV and eating fried chicken. “Dad, I told you not to eat too much fried chicken!” The old man, none other than Alessandro Ravelli, ignored his son. He was laughing out loud at the horror series that was showing the terror of ghosts. “Look, the ghost looks so cute! The makeup is so unnatural.” Luigi let out a long sigh. “Someone just came to see me.” “Who?” Alessandro asked. “Nicolo De Luca.” Old Ravelli turned his head. His gaze was full of interest. “Did he come here for the annual gathering in New York?”