Papa Louie Novels & Stories

dad said, standing up from his seat. “Okay” papa Pat said, standing up from his seat. Papa, Pat is a 70 years old man, and he looks 50, he is very strong. If not because of his white beards and hair, you won’t even know he is up to 70. We all went to the dining room, but a hand grabbed me back harshly.

Louis exclaimed stepping out of my office, "I was looking for you, babe. I wanted to introduce you to August. August, this is my wife Eva.” "Oh, you have exquisite taste, Louis,” the man nodded, taking my hand to bring it to his mouth. “If this is how your wife looks like, I don't want to imagine how she... sings.” A shudder of repulsion ran through me when his mouth made contact with my skin. Who the hell was this guy? "I think I'm at a disadvantage,” I said, pulling my hand back, "Who are you?" He just chuckled; a fact that brought me even closer to Louis.

"Good. I'll tell Bianca now. Three o'clock at the stables." At the door he glanced back at us with an affection that arrived far too easily. "My wife. My son. You are both so good to me." After he left, Luca took the satchel he had packed the night before from the wardrobe. His eyes were red, but his voice did not shake. "Mom, I don't want Papa to come with us anymore. Can we leave today?"

Lunch outside, at his favorite spot, seems perfect. The little bistro down the cobbled street smells of basil, garlic, and warm bread. We sit at our usual table near the window. Leo gets his favorite—his own cheese pizza, small and perfectly round. He grabs a slice the second it’s placed in front of him, the mozzarella stretching like golden ribbons. “Look, Mommy, it’s so stretchy!” he says, laughing. His laughter fills the space, bright and warm, turning every head nearby. I smile, my heart softening.

Those two companies are partners. Their wealth. They are famous in other countries. All their products are scattered all over the country. Their children are lucky because they will become rich. They don't need to work anymore because they have a helper. Then their theme is eating and sleeping. Hey! Who is my Papa? What is Papa's name? Is it cool? Lando? Come on! I also forgot Papa's last name. Mama, please remind me what is Papa's name. Annoying! I forgot! How can I find it, Papa?

- "Clear" Jean raised her hands in the air as a sign of peace, and then Lora studied her outfit. She knew her father's intimacy, all the secrets he would take to his grave. But, looking at that man in the suit, well dressed, she realized that he camouflaged reality very well. - "Picasso restaurant is one of the best in town. The food made by chef Julian Serrano is very similar to French dishes" the father began to speak pleasantly.

“Never long enough. Thought I told you not to darken my door again.” “You say that every time.” Dante approaches the counter. “And I fear for the day you mean it.” Louie sniffs. I study the old man, but despite his gruff demeanor, there’s no aggression in his face or his stance. That might just be how he greets people. “We’re looking for a ring size.” Dante nods at me. “For this one.” Louie looks me up and down. “Queen of Saints, huh? Was wondering when you’d finally deign to cross the bridge.”