Chef Luca Corleone Novels & Stories

And it stayed there, holding for far longer than any casual glance had a right to. “Salvatore.” Luca raised his whiskey glass in a gesture that wavered between respect and a very thin insult. His Neapolitan accent was dense and unapologetic—the character of a third generation that refused to soften its vowels for the comfort of international ears. “I didn’t think Monaco still made it onto your family’s radar. I assumed you preferred the dining atmosphere in New Jersey.” Mafia McDonald’s. The jab went unspoken, but its scent cut as sharp as a blade’s edge.

Behind the old man followed a team of Europia's top emergency medical specialists. As he stepped into the banquet hall, his hawk-like gaze swept the room, finally landing on me—held up by two Soldati—and then on Mia, lying motionless on the ground, her life hanging by a thread. At that instant, I saw a world-ending fury ignite in Papa's eyes. "You are…" Lorenzo stammered, his legs giving out. "D-Don Corleone?" Papa didn't even spare him a glance. He walked straight to me and looked into my eyes.

“You Capones love rewriting the rules when it suits you. But facts are facts. She was the Lombardi bride. And when she ran off, she took more than a name—she took loyalty. Respect. She embarrassed us. Now it's time to pay.” In a flash, Luca had a blade out, the sharp edge gleaming as he moved to lunge. But before it could pierce into Remo’s throat, Dad lifted a single hand. Luca froze, jaw clenched, and slowly sat back down but he didn’t take his eyes off Remo for even a second. “I get it,” Remo said after a beat, smirking. “You Capone boys still suck on her tit, huh? What’s next, she gonna teach you how to hold a spoon? Is that what Auntie Alessia taught you, Luca?

He served the pasta and handed her a plate. "It's been so hectic in the gang lately, those Romano guys are pulling some shit and he has lots to deal with as the CEO of the Morreti group and the Don of the underworld. I'm only this free because I need to heal and he is a chef he doesn't get his hands dirty" Stephen explained as he dug into his plate of pasta. "Just relax, you will be fine" he guaranteed Leah felt comforted by their words and continued eating in silence. Soon they heard the jiggling of keys at the door. Anthonio and Stephen's muscles tense in alertness as they move towards the door.

Late autumn blanketed the streets of Stonby with fallen leaves. Elvira wrapped herself in a cashmere shawl and sat on the terrace, flipping through the newly delivered script. Meanwhile, Luca sat cross-legged on the rug, working on family matters on his laptop. Now and then, he glanced up at her, his eyes gentle. The quiet was abruptly broken by a news alert popping up on the laptop. "Breaking news! Key partner of the Corleone family, Antonio, was accused of embezzling family funds and tried by the Commission."

If I wanted answers—real answers—I’d have to get close to Luca. Luca Del Vecchio. His name had been whispered in every corner of this city—the billionaire who threw extravagant charity galas by day and ran the city’s underworld by night. No one said it outright, of course. You didn’t accuse Luca of anything if you wanted to live to see the sunrise.

he said without further words. "And tell me about Lucas." I shift on the soft chair to straighten my back. "His mother, Aurelia Montevecchi, grew up in Russia. Despite her being pure Italian, she became a Russian interpreter. Aurelia was secretly involved with a Mafia in Russia, but only as an Italian spy. She's an expert in chemistry. She's practically a ticking time bomb. She was once assigned to be Gerlando De Marchi's interpreter when he was personally doing business there. That's how they met. They got married quickly and had Lucas after that. Gerlando was already Boss and he was ecstatic when he heard he'd be having an heir. He's good with business and his public cover is the CEO—now r

Now that everything hanged in the balance, it was the first time that I looked at the interior of the mansion. The kitchen itself mirrored the very essence of who Leo was, from the golden fork nestled in between the leaves of the salad that Rosa had prepared to the marble finishes on the edge of the island whispered old money that had been circulating in the De Luca family for years and there I was, a nobody going to put a stop to it. “What would you like to drink, Me Lady?” Cici asked behind the island. He had an array of drinks in front of him, mixing like he was born bar tending.

His dark hair was streaked with silver at the temples, his tailored suit hung loose on a frame that had wasted away, his face lined with a exhaustion no amount of power could erase. The scar on his throat stood out pale and stark against his skin. “Isa,” he said, his voice rougher than I’d ever heard it, broken. I set the glass down on the shelf, my movements calm. “You shouldn’t be here, Luca. You know the authorities are hunting you the second you step outside the EU.” He didn’t care. He stepped forward, his eyes never leaving mine, and spilled every word he’d carried for a year. He’d annulled his marriage to Sofia, exposed every lie and set-up she’d engineered, run the Lombardi family out

Bottles clinked as he poured two glasses of red. “Sit down. Let’s have a drink and talk like civilized men.” “That’s not what I asked.” My hands flexed at my sides. He slid one glass toward me anyway. “I work for no one,” he said, taking a slow sip. “I am Carlo De Luca. The only surviving son of Don Alessandro De Luca.” “What the hell does that have to do with me?” “Bruce owes me.” He took another sip, eyes locked on mine. “I’ve been hunting everyone who had a hand in killing my family. Bruce was one of them.”