Italian Devil Novels & Stories

The devil stood there still in the human form, wearing a tuxedo. He looked so handsome and charming that a genuine smile automatically appeared on my lips looking at him. He smiled back as he walked to me. “It’s been a long time, I have worn a suit.”He said, looking nervous while scratching his neck. “You look too handsome,” I said as I fixed the bow at his neck. “Ella,” The devil held my hand that was fixing his bow and then he kissed it with love. “If there is anything bothering you, please tell me.”His words seem like a plea that I don’t understand at all.

Dante Moretti was angry again. The Devil was angry again. And when the devil is angry, blood follows. He stood still—silent—shoulders squared, chest rising and falling like a man barely holding himself back from ruin. He couldn't believe what his ears heard from Alessia’s mouth. His eyes, once clouded with concern, were now burning coals. Dark. Unforgiving. Dangerous. The kind of stare that made grown men drop to their knees. The kind that whispered of violence without ever raising its voice.

the man spoke placing his hand on the hip as he directed his words at Dylan Parker who stood there with his eyes wide open. "No wonder he's called Hades" Those comments and whispers made the man smirk in victory. Amara just kept staring at the sudden arrival of the man dressed in clothes which were smeared with blood all over. Even though she's too shocked to watch the scene in front of her, she didn't fail to note the name of the devil who's still smirking with a gun in his hand. HADES OF THE MAFIA WORLD, DAMIAN KNIGHT!

However, he was not for her and had been playing with her to get what he wanted all along. It had been awful seeing him with someone she thought was her friend. It did not startle Janice when it happened, since she knew he would eventually leave like the others. She had prepared for the day he'd say the same things others had said. Though it hurts, she was glad she didn't give herself to him. Because that would have been the worst. She wouldn't be able to look him in the eyes, neither would she be able to stare at her supposed friend. Yet, the person she had willingly given herself was the devil himself.

Dio (God)… the hatred in them could burn an entire city to the ground. “Nikita!” Valentino’s voice thundered from behind her, filled with rage and warning. “Touch a single strand of her hair and I will show you exactly why they call me Il Diavolo di Milano (The Devil of Milan)!” She did not even turn to look at him. Instead, she smirked. “Is the Devil of Milan in the room with us?” she taunted, giggling lazily. My breath caught as her hand slid from my face to my chin, then slowly down to my neck.

“Business called. You know how it gets.” Matteo’s face drained of every drop of color. “H-Husband?” Elena stiffened, then caught my gaze. Understanding flashed; she straightened, chin high, shoulders squared. “Yes,” she said, voice steady as steel. “Meet my husband, Lorenzo.” I extended my hand toward Matteo, my smile sharp as a blade. “The name is Lorenzo DeLuca. Or you might know me as Il Diavolo.” The name hit him like a bullet between the eyes. His pupils blew wide, recognition and terror crashing together. The blonde gasped, hand flying to her throat. Matteo’s arm jerked, but he couldn’t leave the Devil’s hand hanging. He took it.

Dante Mancini, known in the mob as the Devil, since by his works in the organization where he is the leader, is the most cruel and ruthless in taking revenge. The Devil, as many know him, inherited the business empire and mafia territories from his father, Mr. Demetrio Mancini. After his death, Dante had to take complete charge of everything, remaining in charge as the head of the entire Italian territory and a large part of the European and American continent.

In a few seconds, he was towering over me, pressing a finger on my lips to threaten me, " Sshh! Watch before you speak, Princepessa. I am not your prince charming anymore. I am the devil who is here to suck your soul. If I made you just my fuck body, what will the world call my child? An illegitimate one? In no way, I was going to allow it. Get on the bed and wait for me. I want your back to remember because I really don't wish to kiss your poisonous lips ever which fed me lies for years."

It was a lovely place and had always been my favorite. "Oh, oh," Alessa's voice brought me back to reality. "Look who's coming over there." We looked through the window; three cars were parking. One was a red Ferrari, another a black Audi, and the last one a gray Homer. Kanael stepped out of the Ferrari, Basael from the black Audi, and, obviously, Afael from the Homer. Great.

“Who are you?” “Let’s get you settled before I tell you who I am,” he said. I shook my head. “No.” My voice was hoarse from crying too much as I spoke. “Tell me, now. Please.” He sighed. “Lazzaro Visconti.” My already sore eyes widened, and my body began to tremble as I recoiled. No. Please. No. Lazzaro Visconti. The devil himself. He was said to have killed his wife after she bore twins for him. He was the most ruthless of them all, and above that, the Visconti family had a decade-long beef with my family—the Martelli family.