Italian Devil Novels & Stories

"The man you just married is the leader of a crime organization that is not a part of the code of the mafia. They kill and destroy as they wish. He's worse than Sergio. Far worse." My blood ran cold. "Wh-what?" "Didn't he tell you who he is?" "Luca Vallario, that's what he told me." She nodded, voice shaky with terror, "Yes, but to the rest of the world, he's known as Lucifero." Oh God. What had I done? "The man you married isn't just a monster; he's the Devil himself."

“The Devil himself.” My interest piqued, and I tilted my head slightly to eavesdrop. “They call him that because no one crosses him and survives. Dante Romano. He’s the youngest capo dei capi in history.” I snorted. “Isn’t that what they call every mafia boss with a decent kill count?” Amara laughed, leaning closer. “No, Sophia. This one’s different. They say he’s ruthless. Cold. The kind of man who doesn’t ask for respect—he takes it.” She smirked. “The Devil himself. Dante Romano.”

“Bring him here.” Alessio De Luca. My gaze locked onto him—the infamous Italian devil, a figure carved from shadow and sin, cloaked in a tailored black suit that dripped with wealth and the promise of violence. Darkness seemed to breathe around him, and his eyes—cold, lethal, and fathomless—pinned me with a pressure that felt like a steel collar tightening around my throat. A predator savoring his prey, his aura a whisper of danger and the certainty of ruin.

she didn't need to talk,her actions said everything. Raphael was instantly overjoyed. He hugged her tightly and buried his face on the crook of her neck. His hot breath caressing and giving her a tingling sensation "you can only belong to me. you are my mate,the devil's mate." She smiled. who could have thought that she Sophia Williams will be entangled with the devil someday. The mention of devil in her world was something that brought fear to everyone. They were told stories about devil by their parents. according to their stories,the devil was a giant like thing with six hands,three eyes and ugly looking horns but the man besides her was very beautiful with all right features .To say it a

Red dots marked the Moretti strongholds. “They’re not just a mafia anymore,” I said, my voice steady. I was wearing a silk robe, the obsidian pendant—now repaired and humming with a new frequency—resting against my skin. “Dante has unified the Italian families under the promise of the ‘Apex Serum’. He’s selling our blood like it’s oil.” Girard stood behind me. He didn’t touch me at first. He just stood there, his heat a constant, comforting presence. I could feel his gaze on my neck, on the mark he had left. The bond was humming, a low-frequency vibration of desire and tactical focus.

' 𝑫𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒍 𝒊𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒂 𝒖𝒈𝒍𝒚 𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓

The baby stirred, a calm, steady pulse. Aunt Dee watched quietly from a distance, understanding settling into her expression. The ancestors’ voices echoed one last time through the realm: “The devil’s greatest act of defiance is not destruction— It is devotion.” Far away, the hunters drew closer. But for the first time since the prophecy began, Malik knew exactly where he stood. And he would not move.

—So I have to ask, why are you still here? His gaze fixed on my face. — I was biding my time before trying again. — Cazzata. His life in Toronto was boring. You were dying there, like a plant starving for water. I saved you from that loser boyfriend, from those lackluster orgasms. There's so much I can show you, dolcezza. So much I want to give you. — So you are my savior? And that? I laughed softly. — I am not a savior. They call me il Diavolo for a reason, and that's because I'm just as wicked and evil as they are. But if you want to kneel for me in gratitude, I will not object.

“Driver’s side. Throat slit open. Head and stomach shot. A black veil laid across his face like a joke.” I had almost thrown up. A black veil. Now it covered his corpse. Matteo tightened his grip on me, dragging me one more step closer to the altar. And there he was. Dante Moretti. He stood waiting in front of the priest, broad and cold, a storm in human form. His suit was black as midnight, his shirt open at the collar, no tie. His hands rested behind his back, his face carved from ice. Those blue eyes never left me. Not once.

She ran away and left her alone in the hands of this demon. She looked at Eric who had a devilish smile on his face, then stared down at her stomach. ‘Maybe you were meant to be a mafia after all.’