His Italian Wife Novels & Stories

Vittorio’s voice came again, this time sharp with an unmistakable edge of annoyance, the cold tone forced me to snap my gaze away from my wife. Vittorio was staring at me, his eyes narrowed, his jaw set in a hard line. I knew he was furious that I had acted without his counsel, but I was the Don of the Romano family. I made my own decisions. Soon enough, he would understand exactly why. “She is Scarlet Romano,” I replied, my voice smooth, and calm. I kept my posture relaxed, masking the deep-seated hatred I held for the old man. “My wife.”

Dangerously quiet. Because everyone involved knew what that meant. Alex knew too much. Far too much. And if he reached Patricia before they did... Everything would collapse. Back inside Alison's office, Obadiah continued. "I was married." Patricia listened. Barely. Her entire body felt numb. "My wife and I were having problems." He laughed bitterly. "More problems than either of us admitted." The old man looked toward the window. Toward the dark Nakuru skyline. "Then I met a woman."

I tell her, but my words sound doubtful, Sasha's eyes have always felt familiar, and now I'm relating that green to a faceless little girl with intense anger issues. “È stata lei,” (It was her,) Alessio insists, switching to Italian like his words will carry more weight now. “L’ho confermato qualche giorno fa ma devo dire, è brava. Tua moglie è così brava a fingere di essere solo un’altra principessa della mafia che nessuno ha mai sospettato che fosse qualcosa di diverso.” (I confirmed this a few days ago but I must say, she’s good. Your wife is so good at pretending that she’s just another mafia princess that no one has ever suspected her to be anything but that.) he chuckles, half amused w

He kissed me on the forehead, "You are my wife. And I am your husband. Nobody will ever change that fact ok. Besides I never knew you could get this possessive of me" I could tell he had that cocky hot smirk of his plastered on his face. "Ofcourse I am possessive of what belongs to me" I responded back. "I love seeing you this possessive. Probably more girls should be trying to have me if that is what it will take for my wife to show me how much she wants me in her life" "You are silly" I chortled lightly. Luciano brought my face up to gaze at his and leaned his face closer, "my moglie"

“Are we really doing this?” “Your father and I have spent decades building alliances, maintaining an image,” she continued. “And you? You married some white girl—” “La Bianca,” my father murmured, the Italian words for ‘the white girl’ rolling off his tongue like an insult. I bit back my anger. “She doesn’t belong here,” Luciana added. “She’s my wife.” “She’s a problem.” Something in me snapped. I pushed off the chair, my voice sharp. “I’m married to Anna. Not Vanya. Not anyone else. Anna.”

“I didn't want to come but I couldn't stop myself. I wanted to see how easily you Italians forgot my daughter.” Stephanie anxiously rubbed her thumb over her other hand as her lips set in a flat line. The accusation in his tone was clearly shown in his words and gaze. “There are things we couldn't change. You are the councilor of Bratva. Nobody understands the powergames more than you. This marriage was important to showcase Italian’s presence in New York.” She tried to reason out, however Stephanie herself had no interest in this marriage at all. Boris laughed at that. The sarcasm was dripping from his hearty laughter. Sarcasm and anger both. “Yes. Everyone found out how weak The Italian Ma

“I never did.” “But, I do.” He paused for two seconds to see if Luciana had something to say but she didn't interrupt, then he continued. “A lot, mum. Your opinion isn't important in my marriage. She is my wife so whatever issues you're having with Kathleen it's for you to deal with, it's none of my flaming business. I'm sorry, but Henrietta is my ex wife and Charlene is my wife!” She was stunned by his outburst, he leaped up abruptly. “What the hell are you saying, Richard? This is about Miguel.”

They were cold but somehow comforting. "Only when they need to be", she answered back. "You do know that I'm the Don of the Italian Mafia", he said. "And I am unfortunately your wife. I'm not those people that could easily be bossed around", she glared at him. "Aren't you supposed to be the ideal perfect child among your sisters?", Enzo raised a brow as he signaled the maid to come and clear the table.

"I'm so lucky to have you doll. Your my life you know? That's what la mia vita means And without you I wouldn't be able to survive. I know it sounds cliché and I'm being silly but I wouldnt be able to live without seeing your smile Your beautiful face every time I wake up Your messy buns Your red hair Your cute blush and your fiesty attitude. I want to wake up to your face every single morning of my life. I am so happy you're mine" He smiled down at me and I could see a pool of emotions in his eyes. Love he had just for me His doll. I cuddled closer to him taking in his scent as he wrapped his hands around my naked body Being the Mafia Don's wife has been the best thing to ever happen to me.

"Girl, you need to call me ASAP." She sent that over an hour ago. I hit the phone icon, and it called her. "Are you alone?" She asked while panic laced her voice. "Ya, Tyson, had to go to work early and I just woke up. Is everything OK?" "Girl, do you know who in the hell you married? I knew I recognized him, but it all clicked into place this morning." "I married Tyson Veneto." "Ya, he's super Italian." "Ya, and it's the hottest damn thing. He speaks Italian fluently and it does things to me," I cut her off.