Hetalia Monaco Novels & Stories

He was handsome in that understated European way. He had warm, dark eyes, an easy smile, and perfectly tousled brown hair. His navy suit was a masterpiece of Italian tailoring, worn with an open collar that radiated relaxed confidence. He moved with liquid grace that contrasted sharply with Damian's coiled stillness. "Damian, darling." Katya's smile was sharp, proprietary. "I'd like to introduce Luc de la Fontaine, from the Monaco delegation." Luc offered Damian a brief, professional nod. He then immediately turned his full, charismatic attention to Katya, taking her hand and brushing his lips against her knuckles.

The staircase was dark and felt endless; the pain in her ankle started to stumble and her grip on the handrail became tighter as she went. “My place is up there. I’d like to say nice and cozy,” Monica said, without looking back. “But, I hate it. I like to explore the world. Not to mention I don’t like vampires much, aside from His Highness, of course. Speaking of his Highness, he’s kind of back in the kingdom, I read a post.” “What do you mean, ‘kind of’?” she winced in pain. “His location is secret and nobody is opening their mouth about his condition. We have no idea how he is or where he is now, except that he is in one territory.”

She opened her mouth to say something more but she was cut off by the opening of the door. “You asshole!” Tony burst through the door like he owned the damn place. “You can’t just tell me you got married and leave it at that. I need more details. What happened to bachelors for life?” I sighed. “Jen please give us a minute.” She nodded her head stiffly and left my office. “You are meant to be in Monaco.” He settled into his chair and glared at me. “I thought you had been admitted into a psych ward when I got that message. How could I enjoy the sweet company of the European women when my friend had clearly gone into a fit of hysteria.”

The moment I almost let him fall. I woke with a gasp. Jeff’s hand was on my back, steadying. “Easy.” The hold was darker now. Colder. I turned my face into his shoulder. “We can’t let him win.” His fingers tangled in my hair. “We won’t.” Outside, the sea roared. Somewhere beyond it, Julian was running. But so were we. Monaco—three days later The Mediterranean sun burned white against the yacht-lined harbor. I adjusted my sunglasses, watching the Monte Carlo Grand Hotel through the reflection of a boutique window.

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.

Liam jested and tossed him the black envelope. He lazily opened the envelope and frowned as he scanned each photo and documents. "Monaco's. It's been years since their last intervention in the City. Finally, they are making their move, but why here in San José?" He clenched his jaw while scanning each photo. The Monaco Clan belongs to the lower division of Zenith Palace, and they would not dare to make such move if not approved by the elders of the higher division. Years ago, they built an agreement not to interfere in cities that had been ruled and supervised by a Don to prevent war.

“And it’s already begun.” Amaro looked at her. “Are you ready for this?” Lucia took his hand. “Only if you’re with me.” He kissed her. “Always.” — But far away, in a prison cell in Naples, Alessandro Moretti received a visitor. The guard opened the door. A man stepped in—tall, composed, eyes like ice. Il Monaco. Alessandro smirked. “Come to gloat?” Il Monaco sat. “Come to offer you a choice.”

The lady was extremely polite, her demeanor graceful as she exuded an air of nobility. Nicole had quite an impression of the name Mohr and asked. "You're from Deinsland?" Mona could not help but glance at Nicole as she said with a smile, "Yes. How did you know?" Nicole responded slowly with an icy look. "The largest car manufacturer in Mercadia, the name Mohr, that only naturally means you're from the royal house of Deinsland, House Montferrat." Mona did not expect Nicole to know the identity of their house and her gaze sharpened somewhat. "Not many know the house we belong to. May I get your name?"

The city stretched endlessly in every direction. "You know what's strange?" Sienna asked quietly. "What?" "I thought I'd be desperate to get back to Monaco." Luca looked thoughtful. "Me too." She glanced toward him. "Really?" "Monaco feels like work lately." The honesty surprised her. Luca leaned his forearms against the railing and looked out across the water. "In Monaco I'm always something." "What does that mean?" His smile held very little humour. "Someone's son. Someone's business partner. Someone's investment."

Then he bound my ankles, finally he put a strip of duct tape across my mouth, pressing my lips together. I stayed slack, playing dead, playing unconscious, just like Enzo taught me. He climbed back into the driver’s seat and started the engine again. The car rolled forward deeper into the maze of back streets. “Too bad Lorenzo won’t see you anymore,” he said conversationally. “I can’t wait to see the guilt on his face when he realizes you’re gone forever.” He chuckled. “We’re going to Monaco. I’ve got this nice little place over there, you’ll love it. It’s perfect for raising a family.”