Don In Italian Novels & Stories

The last bit of warmth that I saw in his eyes has disappeared now. My heart skipped a bit as he said tightly clenching my waist, "Sono Imogen Mcmaster, il Don degli inferi. Quale qualifica hai per minacciarmi? So come ottenere ciò che è mio. Lascia ora la sua mano. Odio le altre persone che toccano le mie cose. (I am Imogen Mcmaster, the Don of the underworld. What qualifications do you have to threaten me? I know how to get what's mine )"

“And that he was the Don.” I then look at Dante, meeting his eyes directly. “Just like you are… right?” I ask quietly. He exhales slowly through his nose, not irritated, just acknowledging the question. “Yes,” he answers plainly. “I am the Don, and Head of the Valencia family… and the Benedettis are our biggest enemy…”

“Don’t mistake sparks for surrender. I didn’t choose this.” “Neither did I.” He leaned in with a low voice. “But here we are, bound by blood and money. Might as well enjoy the fireworks.” “I would rather set your expensive car ablaze.” He chuckled. “Then I’ll make sure the wine is vintage and the flames are beautiful.” This asshole won't back down. Let's see, Mr. Mafia Lord, Don, or whatever. Alessandro Montrego, the infamous Mafia Don from Italy, with cheekbones sharp enough to slice through my last nerve. Not sure how many people he killed in a day, but I’m sure he’s not a nice guy. Well, all criminals don't deserve the word ‘nice.’

That night sure seemed lengthy. I blushed when both men spoke in Italian before chuckling. “Hey! English.” I zeroed on them with my eyes. “Ha persino iniziato a comportarsi in modo esuberante, oh mio. Una notte con Dimitri può senza dubbio far impazzire una donna al punto da diventare prepotente come lui. Ci deve essere qualcosa nell’aria.” (She’s even started acting feisty, oh my. A night with Dimitri may undoubtedly make a woman go bonkers to the point of becoming bossy like he is. There must be something in the air.)

I uttered, hoping he’d believe me and we could get going with the traitor we had to question. “It’s a female?” He asked while he rolled up his sleeves. Fūck. I did say kill her, didn’t I? “Yes.” I replied, getting up and rolling up my sleeves as well. “It’s unfortunate, but you can’t mess with me and live to tell it.” I declared before meeting Edgardo’s eyes. “Dov’è lo stronzo?” (Italian for “Where’s the asšhole?”)

he said with a nod. WORD TRANSLATION < >stupidi traditori < >stupid betrayers < >Coglione miseducate < >Rude jerk < >Tu dici? < > You say? < >NO ... Niente di niente, signore < >NO...Nothing at all, Sir

"The traitor is alleged to have killed the Don's mother. The Don believed his mouth was killed by her father, so he is probably seeking revenge for the death of his mother. " Draven muttered, turning around to return back to his car. His business at the gala was done, he was not a social person and did not see the reason or importance of socializing, so he preferred to go back to his hotel room and enjoy some quiet time. "Does that mean, the mother of the Don was really killed by Mr. Vale? Isn't that what he is called?" His assistant muttered and Draven hummed, confirming the fact that his assistant was on the right track.

The relief in his voice was so thick it was almost a physical weight. He took a step toward me and then stopped abruptly as if remembering that he was currently the most hated man in my universe. He looked at the bowl of pasta. He looked at my knitted slippers. He looked at the Italian grandmother who was currently standing in front of me with a rolling pin in her hand. "Chi è questo?" the grandmother barked, pointing the rolling pin at Dominic’s chest. "È lui l'asino?" "Yes," I said, leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms. "He is the lead donkey. The king of the donkeys."

That growling voice made Esme and Luka turn their head towards the door, and Luka's jaw clenched by seeing that person standing at his door. His father….Dorian Salvino, along with his wife and stepson.

One who was not strong enough could not stand in there firmly, let alone, speak. "Where is Padrino?" Donovan, the oldest man in the room growled. He had a deadly scar running underneath his eyes and down the side of his face. "We requested a meeting with him, not you, stupid son of a whøre!" [Padrino; Godfather in Spanish] "Where is your boss?" Another asked, his Russian accent thick and hard. "Sergio De Niro?" "Relax...!" Alfonso tried to speak but paused when one of the men drew out a gun and pointed at his forehead.