His Italian Wife Novels & Stories

Then I leaned toward the microphone and spoke softly. "Good evening, everyone. My name is Quentin Thompson. I'm Ms. Hemsley's legal husband. We've been married for ten years, and we have a three-year-old son together. And I'm also..." I paused, letting my gaze sweep across Adeline's pale face. "...the majority owner of this company, with a 51% stake."

You can just tell he’s Italian, just like those men from my nightmares. Matt kissed my forehead, “drink some water, okay?” He said calmly before unwrapping his arms around me and subtly making his way out. The way he completely ignored Ricci who trailed him with his eyes just makes him all the more attractive. “How low can you go you bitch?” Ricci shouted, landing the back of his right hand on my face. A metallic substance dug into my flesh. That damn ring. “You are my wife! Mine! You are carrying my heir and you will do as I say, understood? If I ever catch you snuggling my brother like a dumb puppy, ever again, you will regret leaving Italy in the first place!” He walked out, immediately s

“You're just too cute—like a little baby.” “I do have a baby face,” I said proudly. “Yes, yes, I agree with that,” he said with a smirk. “And to answer your question, yes—they’re on the plane now. They’ll arrive here tomorrow.” My heart swelled with joy. “Thank you! Ah no—Grazie mille, mio marito!” (Thank you, my husband.) His eyes widened in surprise. “You’re learning Italian now, wife?” “Of course. You taught me, remember? Or did you forget I’m a fast learner?”

Unbeknownst to Italia, she opened her mouth and speak, “Who are you?” And what rights do you have to make me feel this way? Silently, she uttered inside her head. Gustav gave her a sad smile, and there is this hint of longing that he let her see. “Who am I?” He chuckled. “You know the answer Italia.” She scoffs. “I am not playing with you—” “So am I, but would you believe if I say that I am your husband?” With that said, her eyes widened as the words echoed over and over again.

he said, coming to stand beside me, holding out his arm, “properly. To the rest of the world, not just Italy.” “As what?” I snapped. “Your fucking victim?” He shook his head, forcing my hand into the crook of his arm when I resisted. “My wife,” he said calmly. “And my queen.” Something in his tone made me automatically know the rest of the day was going to be full of surprises.

As much as I am his. “Tu sei il mio italiano!” “You are my Italian!” “And you are my Alessa, you will be my wife as soon as you feel any weakness,” I start laughing, and we give in to a kiss full of desire. “Shall we go for lunch?”

The lights flickered on. The bastard had his hands around my wife’s neck. “You’re an idiot,” I spat, fury building inside me as he casually shrugged. “You made me one,” Luciano said, his voice dripping with disdain. I closed my eyes, trying to steady my breathing. “Let her go… This is between you and me. Not her. Let my wife go.” “You know, I had a chance at marriage too... with Olivia. I really liked her. She was sexy... pretty, to start with.”

My heart pounded against my ribs, but I willed my voice to remain steady, refusing to show any sign of fear. "You should've rolled with it then." My head snapped towards him, a tight smile on my face. "You speak Italian? Adonis never said so..." Adrian grinned in his heavy Italian accent. "I don't. It's just not hard to predict how you think." I replied, hoping he'd get the double meaning behind my words. "Adonis..." He regarded my husband. "Non hai detto che tua moglie era una sputafuoco (You didn't say your wife was a spitfire). It's nice. Your tantrums are nice..."

M means. "Oh, my God!" I exclaimed loudly. Surprised written on my face. I really wanted to throw my arms over his neck and scream in excitement that he can now finally speak and understand Italian but, his last word weighed much in my head. Mia moglie. I repeat those two words silently. I am his wife. He is my husband. Mia moglie means my wife in english and my husband means mio marito in Italian. Mio marito has M.M initials which also stands for my husband, but what is T.M? Argh! Why am I so slow----

“That’s why you don’t have so much worry. Julia wouldn’t allow him to harm you.” “Yes. Although I didn’t know that until after I confronted him.” I look dumbfounded at my wife. She confronted a man connected to the Italian mafia in a public courthouse? This wasn’t the Claire I’d come to know nor have been married to for over five years. “Okay. Let’s get you back to the boys before I have a stroke.” I lead my wife upstairs gently and hold a hand out to Elena as we pass. I needed time to process and my boys needed their mother.