Novel Set In Italy Novels & Stories

“Why would I want to come with?” “I don’t know. Just thought I’d ask.” “I’m fine here.” Is all he says before he pushes himself off the wall and walks to his room. A few seconds later, I’m back on the beach in my head. Only a few more days, then I’ll be on sitting on an actual beach in Italy with a drink in my hand. *** Capo d’Orlando, Italy - July 2nd 2020 I landed in Italy last night, at the same landing strip we used last summer to go to Taormina. The moment I stepped onto Italian ground, I felt my whole mood shift. It was like I wasn’t Valentina Levin anymore; I was just someone going to their favorite place.

All I wanted was to disappear. Eventually, I prepared my passport and made my way to Italy. A new country, a new life - or so I thought. Maybe it was because of Sydney's expensive car, but a few weeks into trying to settle down in Italy and start all over again, the local mafia started to trail me....

As she gazed at it, panicked creeped into her chest and she stumbled forward, But the chains dragged her into the wall again, and her knees scraped the stone floor. A bruise opened across her shoulder where her blouse had torn open, the ends hung by their threads. Her eyes darted around, fear started to settle in her chest. She didn’t know where she was, nothing was familiar. Fuck, she was in Italy, of course nothing was like New York. Then whispering voices soon filled the room, just outside the heavy wooden door. “Vorrei che il capo ci facesse assaggiare la ragazza. Ho sentito che la figa Americana ha un sapore diverso” (I wish the boss would let us taste the girl, I heard American pussy t

Killian’s POV Italy had a way of making everything feel like a dream. The warm breeze, the scent of lemon groves, the distant hum of cicadas, and the terracotta-tiled villa we’d rented nestled in the hills of Tuscany—it all felt like something pulled straight out of a fantasy. The villa sat perched on a hill, overlooking a patchwork of vineyards and olive groves that stretched into the golden horizon. The girls had finally drifted off after a long, joy-filled day—Alina curled around her stuffed unicorn and Amelie snoring softly in the crib beside her. Their little faces were peaceful, their energy spent from running through cobblestone alleys and devouring way too much gelato.

he said softly, and I nodded before boarding the plane. The flight to Italy felt quick, though I was too excited to notice the time passing. My heart raced with anticipation, thinking about seeing Nathan after three long months. I arrived in Italy in the evening. The air smelled different, rich with the scent of spices and the sea. I felt a buzz of energy as I stepped outside, taking in the sights. It was a beautiful country, vibrant and alive, with people chatting and laughing as they went about their evening. I hailed a cab and gave the driver the hotel address Nathan had shared with me. At first, he spoke in Italian, but when he realized I wasn’t local, he switched to English. I spent the

She disappeared inside. Elena was left alone under the stars, the cold necklace against her skin, Alessia's words burning like acid. The woman who loves the killer. Was that it? Since when? And most importantly: did it even matter anymore? Rome, Italy The following night The palazzo where the capos met was older than Isabella's villa, more imposing, more dangerous. Walls that had witnessed the birth of empires and the deaths of men. Marble floors where blood was easily wiped away.

She gave him a cold shoulder and continued her hunt before fishing out a book, amused by the title because Nicholas isn’t a man who encourages romance novels. The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco. Don’t tell her, he has hidden interests? She opened the book to see a note inside, written in Italian by Nicholas and a smile adorned her face as she saw his neat handwriting. Nicholas frowned as he moved closer to her, confused about her choice of novels. He thought she is more into Love & Gelato than The Name of the Rose. His suspicions got cleared after few seconds as Clarissa closed the book with a thud and put it back in it’s place, rolling her eyes in disgust.

“I’m in the middle of something.” “You always are,” he said. “Which is why you forget who you are.” My jaw tightened. “I haven’t forgotten,” I said. “Then you’ll be on the next flight.” The line went dead. I didn’t move for several seconds. Italy. That word alone carried ghosts. Marble halls. Men who spoke softly before ordering deaths. Family dinners that ended with negotiations. A childhood where love was conditional and loyalty absolute. And now—now there was Sienna. I stood and crossed the office, pouring myself a drink I didn’t need. I didn’t touch it.

Or was it mere coincidence that he appeared after she moved to this quaint Italian town? The town's charm now felt oppressive, its narrow streets suffocating. Roslyn took a deep breath, determination rising. She wouldn't let Leonardo dictate her life. Time to take control. But how? She stepped onto her balcony, overlooking the terracotta rooftops. Roslyn's mind continued to whirl. How could she uncover Leonardo's true intentions? And what secrets lay hidden in this picturesque Italian town? Giulliana poured Roslyn's coffee, her expression etched with concern as she asked, "Signorina, may I inquire about your encounter with Signor Leonardo yesterday? You seemed troubled when you returned."

Every detail had been arranged with quiet precision. Beautiful. I rose and crossed to the window barefoot. Below me, Milan glittered beneath the morning sun. Cars moved like silver threads through the streets. People hurried to work, carrying coffee cups and umbrellas, unaware that high above them, I was trying to reconcile myself to the fact that I had become Mrs. Marchetti. I had married the most feared man in northern Italy. And I still had no idea whether that should terrify me. After a long shower, I dressed carefully.