Italian Novel Novels & Stories

~VITTORIA~ The next day, I sat in my car outside the nightclub owned by Roman where the Cosa Nostra meeting was going to be held. It was something I never thought I'd be attending this soon and as much as Tiziano had always prepared me for it, I still wasn't prepared. The Belluci curse had never favoured me in the Cosa Nostra and one thing I knew was that men in the Cosa Nostra had Misogyny for breakfast every morning and were ready to spit it whenever the chance jumped out.

CHAPTER 14 Ms. Grace and another maid, entered Luciana's room with a tray laden with an assortment of Italy's finest dishes: steaming risotto alla Milanese, tender osso buco, freshly baked focaccia, and a simple yet elegant caprese salad. As Ms. Grace approached the bed, her eyes widened in disbelief, and her legs seemed to freeze in a spot. She stood there, her gaze fixed on Luciana, who lay handcuffed to the bed. The tray in Ms. Grace's hands trembled slightly, threatening to overthrow the delicate balance of the dishes.

In six months I would have enough money to open my bakery, and I would never have to think about Niccolo Romano, or his terrible family ever again. But six months was starting to feel like six decades. I finished breakfast and tidied up the room the way I always did, out of habit more than anything else. Then I sat on the edge of the bed and opened my Italian dictionary. I had been working through it every evening and some of the words were starting to stick. Enough that I could follow small pieces of conversations I was not supposed to be listening to. Like last night at dinner, I had understood all the insulting things Julia was telling Marco about me in Italian, but I kept eating and pret

Only smelled old woodsy smell and nothing gross like rotten flesh or skin. And so I flip it open. I blink once, twice at the words written on the first page. “What is this?” I flip through the book seeing more of the same gibberish writing. “Niko…” I hold the book out to him flopping down on the couch beside him. Looking away from his computer, he takes it from me, his eyes smiling as he pops it open between two fingers and reads the words out loud. “Le regole della famiglia.” “It’s written in Italian?” I blink at him.

she replies. I stare at her. She looks almost victorious now. Like she's just won another argument in court. But beneath that victory, I can still see the same fear. Whatever Italy means to Fiorella, it means enough to make her risk her reputation at the firm. Enough to make her lie. Enough to make her willingly separate herself from me. And that makes me even more suspicious. Because people don't react this strongly to a place for no reason. There is something about Italy. Something she isn't telling me.

It was strange. Finally, I decided not to stroll again. I'd drive. Then, if the person still followed me, I would allow my curiosity to take over. Driving meant taking a longer route, but it felt safer. Immediately after I settled into my favourite spot in the library, someone sat in the chair beside me. I looked up to see a young man who looked purely Italian. He smiled at me. I returned the smile and went back to my book. He moved closer. "Ciao. Sono Luca. Sei nuovo qui. Non ti avevo mai visto prima," he said in a low tone. [Hi. I'm Luca. You're new around here. I've not seen you before.]

I say as my hands tighten around the wheel. "He has no clue what he's marrying," she says while shaking her head. "Yea he probably thinks I'm just some ragazza stupida che vuole i suoi soldi," I say in Italian (dumb girl wanting his money) We park in the club parking lot and hop out of the car and make our way into the club. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Chapter 1 complete I think it was pretty good I'm excited to see how the story yes I know I'm the writer but I write as I go

The journal held many events and activities only a billionaire would write in his journal. Then I saw his name. Giovanni Israel. Giovanni? Giovanni was an Italian name. Who was he? To get answers, I hurriedly searched his phone contacts names. I found strange nicknames written at the end page of his book. Bistro. Ace. Benno. El trigger. Knife. Swallowing, I decided to try out Knife. I was puzzled why Giovanni decided someone's contact number to be saved as knife There were a lot of cars drifting up and down the broad Street and a little crowd of people on the side walks. I walked through the crowd until I found a drug store.

"Sorry. Drama, drama, drama," She gave me a strange look. "Isn't that what Italians are known for?" "From what I've heard, Italians are known for much more than just drama." I wiggled my eyebrows at her. I chuckled. Winced when the stitches pulled on my lower belly. She shot forward. "Who the hell put you up so high? Are they stupid?" I laughed again. "Domenico." She cursed him under her breath. "Why are the hot, moody ones so stupid?"

I tried to convince him, placing a hand on his shoulder but then he pushed me away. "Not when my revenge hasn't been settled, I want to settle all the scores I have with him. Do you want to know the secret behind the novel you love reading so much? "his master and her submissive"? the credit doesn't belong to me but to Dante. It had always been his desire to become an author but when he published the novel, it made so much sales in the entertainment industry" "That means everything being written down in the novel was Dante's childhood history, the continuous molestation of a 15 year old boy. My goodness how can Megan be so gross?" I sighed in disgust