Don In Italian Novels & Stories

"Now that we've concluded, can we go downstairs so you can tell more about how you met my troublesome grandson over lunch?" My eyes drifted to Adonis's. Oh boy! **** Italian Vocabulary Mio Dio means My God.

A man slammed his palm against the table, the sound cracking through the chamber. “Insolence!” he shouted, his face red. “Who do you think you are, speaking to us like this? We are Dons, the most powerful Dons in Italy, and you, a woman with no mafia blood, dare to sit here and mock us?” I tilted my head, studying him. He was older, with thick silver hair slicked back, a heavy gold ring on each finger, and a gravelly voice from years of smoke. Dante leaned down to me again. “That’s De Luca,” he whispered.

Once. "Antonio Romano." He said the name the way you say something you are about to destroy. Quietly. Almost gently. "He's getting bold.” “I will gut him like a fucking animal and burn all his trucks while at it.” He straightened his jacket, tugging the sleeves into place before lifting his eyes to Vito. "Get the car." "Frank." Darius stepped forward from the corner where he had been standing so quietly. "If you go down there personally—"

Tonight, I was more than just a businessman- I was the heir to a legacy that spanned generations, a legacy built on power, loyalty and blood. *ahem* Don Leonardo cleared his throat as he put out his cigar on the ashtray. He was a plump old man with wrinkles lying his features, clad in expensive Italian linen and rings adorning his fingers, a dictionary definition of what a syndicate Don would look like. Sharp hazel brown eyes glanced over the people present, before landing on me. “Damien…” his gravelly voice drawled over my name. taking his time to adjust. Before I had been summoned, a message had already been sent to the Don about the little…issue with the Montelli’s and Rico.

Don asks. “Ohh, I heard your friends call you Don. There are a lot of Dons in this world. It is not like you are the only person in the world with the name Don. Anyway, I think you should go home. Your jacket is worth more than my whole year's pay,” I say. “My name is Dante Angelo,” Don says. “Then why the hell do they call you Don? Shouldn’t take all you Dan?” I ask. “I am Don Dante Angelo,” He says as if it were important information.

Despite the wind raising goosebumps on my skin, I didn’t mind. We drove in silence the whole ride, neither of us complaining about it. It was peaceful. When we reached the almost empty streets of the city, Dominic stopped near a small cafe while taking his seatbelt off. “Want something in specific, paffuta?” “Paffuta?” He grinned, “it means chubby in Italian.” I rolled my eyes, a small smile threatening to paint my lips, “cappuccino, no sugar.” He came back a few minutes later with a box filled with different donuts and two cups. On the other hand, my mouth-watering the minute I laid my eyes on it.

He wastched us both suspicously, then said, "Vince, I see you met my daughter." His name is Vince? "I'm Sofia. It was a pleasure to meet you." I indroduce myself to 'Vince'. "Vincenzo Moretti." He said in a deep voice. He had an accent. "Vincenzo is the Italian Don." My papa said to me. That explained his sexy accent. Did I just call his accent sexy? "Why are you having a meeting with the Italian Don?" I ask, confused. "I'll explain later, now come, your mama made breakfast." He answered.

he whispered, stunned. “The man rumored to be the Italian Don?”

"Signorina Monic. We weren't expecting you today." "I don't need to be expected. I'm family." Carmela says nothing to that. She just waits. "Is Luca here?" "He's occupied." "Occupied with what?" Her hesitation lasts only a fraction of a second. But I catch it. "Business," she says finally. "The Don has much to attend to." I smile. It doesn't reach my eyes. "Then I'll wait." I turn to leave, then stop. A woman is walking down the corridor toward us.

For something I was completely ignorant about all I knew was that he was in debt and I was leverage. “Mrs. Mancini, we have to leave now.” The voice belonged to one of them a tall man with a sharp Italian accent. “To… where?” The words stumbled out. “The Don has business back in Italy. I was told to get you to the airport.” Italy. My stomach flipped. This was not real. It couldn’t be real. Nooo I wanted to scream so bad but I didn't