Novel & Cerita Michele Marrone

They maintained their positions with military precision, a small reminder that this wasn’t just a celebration, it was a display of power. Standing on the raised platform at the head of the room was Antonio Marino. His sharp Armani suit and perfectly styled hair framed a face that could intimidate and charm in equal measure. At 26, he was already a name whispered in respect and fear throughout the underworld. By his side stood Daisy Fontana, her soft blonde hair flowing freely over her shoulders, her blue gown clinging to her delicate body. She radiated beauty and elegance.

“Mia belle assassina, (my beautiful assassin) it has been quite the time since I set my eyes upon you. Seemed like I almost missed you.” Alessa slowly put away her gun and put it back into the hostler. “What’s with all the mind games, what are you so paranoid about?” She asked as she put the gun away from his chest. “You live and work with Isabella Morreti, daughter of Vittorio Morreti, who also happened to be your sister.” Marco paused and then continued. “I have to protect myself. Even if you don’t want to hurt me, they can get to me through you.”

Konstantin is about to reply when a man with full beard rush into the dinning room, pushing everyone who's on his way away. " Boss! Mattia from Italy had arrived " The man in full beard says while breathing so hard. Upon hearing the words of the new man, iris Saint stiffened abruptly. Anything from Italy will surely be about the package. Iris thought to herself as she stiffened so she could eavesdrop on the conversation without letting out her emotions.

Mia wailed continuously crying on the ground, she had just found out the truth about the man she loved so much. Adriano was the right-hand man of her father, her father took care of him like family and had even expressed his wish for Mia to get married to him before his death. Mia had found out at a party with her friends that Adriano was getting married to her best friend, her closest friend. Bella Luca, the daughter of the major of Rome, Mia did not want to believe it but she saw it with her own two eyes.

Michele smirks at the old man. "I hate to see you getting disappointed, Michele. But don't worry. I have more surprises for you, and I hope you'll like it." Stracci spoke again. "And what games are you planning to do, Stracci?" Michele challenges him. "Well, I'm still planning on it. I don't know who should I play with first... Maybe we can start with your mother, Katherine Montserrat, or we'll go ahead with your father, Michael Montserrat... Oh, wait! Maybe I can start playing with your cute little girlfriend, Clarissa..." Stracci is now playing a dirty game.

“I’m a journalist, and I’m damn good at it. If you don’t want a weird little story about you starting to make the rounds, you’d better keep that poisonous little mouth shut... or you’re going to learn what power really looks like.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Marcella’s livid face was pure poetry. I heard footsteps outside. Stephanie straightened up, much taller than both of us. “So think twice before you put on another show like this. Victoria Greco... is untouchable,” she said, flat and final, with a level of arrogance I’d never even dared to feel. Marcella’s red-rimmed eyes flicked to her in fear, then landed on me, full of rage. The kind of hate that never leaves.

" I smiled at her, and Alessandro pulled out my chair for me to sit down; I took a quick glance at Alessandro's father, and he gave me a subtle wink. Shit! I ignored his wink. Alessandro sat down in the seat next to me placing his hand on top of mine for reassurance. "Cassandra, this is my mother, Bianca," He spoke, and she leaned her hand out for mine across the table. "Nice to meet you, dear," She spoke in her Italian accent. She was a beautiful woman, I don't get why her husband constantly cheated on her. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your fiancee, my son?" Alessandro's father spoke up, taking a sip of the whiskey he had in his glass.

“The Morettis, Mr. Jameson?” “Yes, Amelia. Mr. Alessandro Ethan Moretti and his brother, Giovanni Aidan Moretti.” Suddenly, Millie’s mind spun. “Holy shit,” she muttered, barely aware she’d said it out loud.

“Don’t.” “You don’t even know me, Matteo. You see my grief? My pain? All you see is a name. De Luca. But I am not a De Luca. I am a Morelli. See me as Dr. Sareena Morelli.” “I see everything,” he says, voice like gravel, gaze unrelenting. “I see the fire. The pain. The way you flinch when someone tries to care. And yeah, I see a shadow of Marcella in you. But I also see the woman who stood up to her father. Who refuses to be a pawn. Not even mine.”