Italian Novella Novels & Stories

Written in perfect, delicate Italian. Se sapessi che ho un piccolo demone nella pancia, lo aspetteresti? If you knew I had a little demon in my belly, would you look forward to it? The date in the corner read seven days ago. Seven days ago. A week before Jake stole the wax seal. A week before the Brooklyn armory fell. I stopped breathing. The whiskey glass slipped from my fingers, shattering against the floorboards. She wrote it in Italian. She understood the language.

’ Josef answered surprised, not believing his brother. ‘Seriously, go on say a title of a book and I’ll tell you what it’s about.’ Hadrian answered putting the book aside. ‘Alright then.’ Josef answered thinking of a title. ‘The Betrothed.’ ‘A novel by the Italian Alessandro Manzoni,’ Hadrian answered instantly. ‘It’s a story about Renzo and Lucia who wanted to get married but was forbidden by Don Rodrigo. Why? Because Don Rodrigo has his eyes on Lucia.

“How did this happen? How was there a switch between the woman I was supposed to marry and the woman that I married to now? I think its best that you start explaining to me because you will not like it when I get angry” Leonardo threatened them. Everyone who sat in the room looked uncomfortable, until one brave soul stood up and it was Avena

In his line of work, he’d learned quickly that delayed gratification only made collecting his prize that much sweeter. Still, he ducked his head, and with his eyes fixed intently on her luscious mouth, he nudged the tip of her nose with his. “What homework? The only thing you need to know is to let yourself get lost in Italy with a beautiful woman.” He let his voice fall, low and husky, enjoying the noticeable shiver of delight it sent over her. “And to eat your fill of gelato. I’ve already done the first part. We’re in the motherland of gelato, darlin’. Let’s get on with the second.”

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.

At the end, Aunt Valentina said, "You're wrong, Luciano. Actually, you have some family. A great one. I have promised to your mother not to tell you anything. However, now I don't think I can keep that promise anymore." "I have some family?" Luciano looked at Aunt Valentina in disbelief. "Yes, boy. You still have family. The Romano." Aunt Valentina smiled warmly at him. "'That' Romano." Aunt Valentina continued again. Luciano hardly believed this information if it wasn't Aunt Valentina who said it. 'That' Romano family. Oh my god. It turned out that he was a part of the most distinguished family in Italy! "Auntie didn't lie, right, didn’t you?" Luciano asked. His eyes lit up excitedly.

She nodded her head slowly and asked, “What is bitch in Italian?” He raised a brow and said, “La Cagna or la puttana.” She pursed her lips and asked, “What about fuck you?” “Vaffanculo,” he aswered. She nodded her head and asked, “How about go kill yourself?” His brows knitted as he answered, “Vai a ucciderti.” “And I will kill you?” She again. “Ti uccidero. Why are you asking me this?” He questioned her. “One thing my mother taught me is that you need to learn the swear words first and especially the words, I will kill you in a different language,” she answered.

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.

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's getting older and keeps changing her mind every other day. A real pain in the ass." I took a small bite of frosting. The sweet cream somehow tasted bitter on my tongue. Raimondo had forgotten that my Nonno built his empire in Sicaria, where I spent almost six years growing up under his care. He had even forgotten that the first time he confessed to me, he did it in Italese. "I'm tired. I'm going to rest for a while," I said. Ignoring the flicker of surprise in Raimondo's eyes, I stood and headed for the lounge. I didn't hesitate to brush away his hand that was holding onto me.