Escort Verona Novels & Stories

Waiting at the runway was a local contact dressed in a black suit. “Signori Valmere,” the man greeted with a respectful bow. “Your sister arrived two days ago. She was seen entering Signor D’Arden’s private residence in Amalfi. It’s secluded, by the cliffs.” Casper nodded curtly. “You’ll take us there.” “Subito, Signore.” Four sleek black cars waited, engines already purring. The brothers split between them, Casper and Caelum in the first, Knight and Lucio in the second. While Lysander and Aston are having a business meeting with the other companies.

She looked demure. She stood near the reception desk. When Draven and Belle stepped out of the private elevator, accompanied by Leo, Aiden, and Luna who were heading to the car, Veronica’s face lit up with a gentle, sad smile. She didn’t rush them. She didn’t shout. She simply stepped forward slowly, her posture humble.

“Is Roman here?” “No, ma’am,” Alice replied, dipping into a small curtsy. “The car’s waiting. Your driver asked if you were ready.” “Thank you,” Vera said, forcing a calm she didn’t feel. She offered a small, grateful smile. Alice nodded and slipped away. Vera tucked the letter safely into her bag, then crossed to the front door. Outside, the black sedan idled in the driveway, engine purring like an impatient beast. Her driver, stood beside it, one hand raised in polite salute.

Mid-40s, neatly dressed in a gray jacket and slacks, sunglasses hiding his eyes. “Señorita Motoguez?” he asked in Spanish, his tone neutral. Avyanna gave him the faintest smile. “Yes.” He opened the rear door for her without another word. Once inside, the car pulled away from the curb. The city unfolded outside the windows—clean stone buildings, tangled side streets, and the sharp scent of citrus trees in bloom. “You’ll be meeting with Valerie Constello directly,” the driver said after a moment. His accent was local, but his phrasing was careful—like someone trained to speak without giving away too much. “He requested it personally. He’s expecting you within the hour.”

she prattled on with a coy grin. "Shameless." Bre put on her round-framed shades and shook her head in jest. "Wait. Théo's gonna be in Italy all month?" Jamie asked next. "I dunno." Veronica sprawled on the lounger, recalling the short and dismissive text Théo had last sent her. "You asked if he still wants to be your escort? At the wedding?" "He said he's busy." "Bullshit! He's just butthurt 'cause you told him off again." Jamie laughed. "He's in Milan? Or Rome?"

The Romano estate had been locked down since the sniper’s bullet shattered the night, but danger has a way of slithering past gates and guards. The following evening, as dusk bled across the horizon, a sleek black Maserati rolled up the drive. The woman who stepped out carried herself like she still owned the world, hips swaying, heels clicking against the marble steps, dark red silk clinging to her like sin. Carmela Vescari. Bianca knew the name before Matteo even spoke it. She could see it in the shift of his shoulders, the narrowing of his eyes, the way the men at the door glanced nervously at one another.

Verania sarcastically remarked, her words tinged with a hint of laughter. Her worried eyes then landed on Ares as she contemplated what might happen to him if Cristoforo's words were to come true. She wanted to avoid that scenario, so when they reached their final destination, she would do everything to escape with Ares. But she knew she needed to plan carefully, especially since their adversaries were intelligent. Instead of paying attention to Verania, Cristoforo kept his gaze fixed on the road, focusing on driving, so Vera's eyes roamed the surroundings once again until they stopped in front of an alleyway.

Pleasure was on. While walking towards the junction, I heard a faint, “This is the day. Elara’s luck ends today,” repeating over and over in my unconscious mind. Once I spotted Veronica’s sleek black car parked under the crooked streetlamp, she rolled down the window and smirked. “Get in, Sera. We’ve got work to do.” As we began our journey, Veronica was making a point to drive focused on the narrow road. “This one’s different,” she blurted out.

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you, barista.” “I’m not jealous,” she said, but couldn’t help smiling as she turned away. “Just realistic.” He drained his coffee, stretching his arms with a satisfied groan. “Alright, Miss Realistic. Let’s get going before I change my mind about being civilized.” --- The city was already awake when they stepped out. Verona’s cobbled streets gleamed under the mellow sun; vendors called out from corners, scooters buzzed past, and the air smelled of espresso and sweet pastries. Fenrak’s Bentley Continental GT sat like a beast among the ordinary cars, polished and shamelessly loud.

I shifted in my seat, nervous, excited, and yet… safe. When the car slowed, my eyes widened. The place before us glowed with golden lights, glass walls reflecting the city back at itself. Elegant couples walked in and out, laughing in designer clothes. The name carved into the sign above the doors made my heart skip—sleek, in silver: Verona. “You… you brought me here?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. Nico smirked. “We own it.” Hold on a sec. I blinked, stunned. “You… own this?”