Italian Novel Novels & Stories

"You look a little serious, Clau, are you still feeling bad?" "No, I'm better now," I took a breath of air. "Why was Pilar hugging you?" "Are you jealous?" "Not at all, I'm just curious." "She was just thanking me for supporting her through this difficult time in her life," he smiled. "Well, I don't want to ruin this day, I want us to have a nice afternoon with you and I," I smiled. We decided to go eat some traditional Italian food. I love Alfredo pasta, from there we decided to go boating on a lake.

He would have been beautiful in her eyes if he didn't have an ugly personality. "Bitch", Arieon mumbled angrily. The man laughed and grabbed her chin making her wince at how hard the pressure was. "Listen here, slut. Watch who you're talking to. I am Gordon Novok, the Don of the Scottish Mafia and Newsflash, you're far away from Italy", he said and her eyes widened.

Referring to Italy, without mentioning the beautiful flowers with unique scents, it is very lacking. Emma finished the examination of the organs in the body, and it was already afternoon. They sat on a large campus in the middle of a forest of colorful flowers. She changed to another dress, light yellow color both graceful and flexible. After completing the health test, Emma becomes more and more curious about the person of Ivan Domenica - the young Italian mafia boss. What kind of person is he? And why did he protect her and bring her here to care for her when the bomb exploded?

I take out my notebook, already full of interview questions, and snap off the cap of my pen with my teeth. “Shall we begin?” I ask, and he nods his head in affirmation. One quick up and down. “Mr. Romano. That is Italian, is it not?” “That it is doll, I am a born and bred Italian man,” he replies, puffing his chest out just slightly as he does. I give him a warm smile, and continue. “So, what propelled the decision to move to the midwestern United States instead of staying at home in Italy?”

A cat blinked at me from a stack of poetry. “Looking for anything specific?” the old lady asked. “Something old,” I said. “Something rare. Italian. About rebirth. Survival.” She nodded, and twenty minutes later she brought out a first edition—“La Fenice: The Phoenix.” It was a story of pain, death, and rebirth. The tale of a girl who burned in the fire and rose stronger. The cover was worn leather, gold-pressed lettering. Inside, hand-stitched. I opened the last page and tucked in a pressed lily. Katarina favorite flower.

She happily exited his mansion. While a small smirk didn't leave his lips for even a once. Now it was a time for him to claim what was his. Not every love brings roses and sweets. Some prefer thorns and poison. ______________________________________ The Italian that I am using in the book is from G****e translate so maybe there will be some errors. _____________________________________ Next will be updated soon. Do like and give feedback. Spread the purple heart.

A total letdown. The library itself was just as disappointing. One section was crammed with Italian law books, dry histories of world wars, and mafia men. The other section was romance novels so ancient they might as well have been written on parchment paper, and it didn’t help that most of them were in Italian, which I couldn’t even read. What did I expect? Adrian having a collection of modern, romance, mysteries, or thrillers? This wasn’t some sappy romance novel where the heroine falls in love with a library.

Author's POV' The engine hummed low, the only sound filling the air between them. Morning rush on the streets blurred past the windows, but inside the car, silence pressed down like a heavy fog. Elena sat and turned slightly toward the glass, watching the city roll by, her hands folded too tightly in her lap. Many stuffs running on her mind. The first was the excitement of her first day at work after being married to a mafia king. Though Vincenzo still hasn't been claimed as a mafia king, soon he will be announced as mafia king of Italy through a ceremony.

She turned to the second page and continued reading. ‘So Velenoso married a woman of Italian origin and was ready to take the oath (omerta) in their language. The Omerta is an extraordinary ritual where Velenoso cut his hand and spilled his blood to show He wouldn't fear spilling blood to protect his soldiers when the time comes.’

"The games I play usually end in blood." Ivan didn't dare move, just glared at me. "Do you have any idea who you're messing with?" I smiled, about to say something. Just then, the crowd parted. A man in a black silk shirt strolled over, oozing a dangerous, magnetic charm with every step. He had the classic profile of an Italian man—deep green eyes, dark brown hair that was just the right amount of messy. Victor Bellini. The Godfather of Italy's largest mafia family.