Pietro Polendina Novels & Stories

Alessandro smiles at me, lifts his head from my legs, and presses a light kiss to my stomach before getting up and putting on some black checkered pajama bottoms but still shirtless and his tattooed chest is exposed, so fucking hot. "Let's go get you some breakfast" He said and I slipped my panties and shorts back on, he stretched his hand out for mine, and as I started to walk, I stumbled a little, which obviously made him grin. "Zio zio!" Enzo yells, clinging onto Alessandro's legs as we enter the kitchen; Alessandro lifts him up and carries him with just one arm. (Italian Translation. Uncle)

An older version of the guy asked. " Giovanni Bianchi. Just the man we needed. Your son here was harassing my wife." Nikolai said. " I wasn't harassing the bitch-" " Speak about my wife like that again and see if you'll walk out of here in one piece. " Giovanni glared at his son and then offered Nikolai a tight smile. " He's sorry for what he has done. Aren't you, boy? " The young Bianchi frantically nodded. " You know how much respect I have for you, Gio but if we were all to accept sorrys, don't you think our empires would have collapsed? "

My hatred for him grew after the incident at the marketplace when his men knocked down an old lady, and none could open their dirty mouths to speak kind words of apology. Alpha Leonardo walked past me that day, as I held the old lady, helping her to her feet. He had an evil, vicious smile on his face, the same one he has right now in front of me. I gulped down the lump in my throat, fixing my eyes back on Alpha Leonardo. “I will do whatever you desire of me, but make sure not to touch another strand of hair on my father’s body.” He maliciously chuckled but his smile faded into a smirk in an instant, “Get her father’s ticker.” He ordered one of his men, who opened a briefcase and brought out

“The bastard even refused me entry to my own daughter’s funeral and kept you as far away from me as he could.” I stared down at the plates, wondering how my life might have been different. “I wish you could have gotten to me. Those years were hell.” His gaze locked onto me, his brow furrowed. “I tried. I lost over a dozen men trying, half of them to the man lying in this house.” My eyes widened. “Domenico?” He nodded. “He was younger then, still working his way up. The anger in him…there is good reason they call him la Bestia, mia bella.”

And my mate had been taken. finis

She was Ben's almost twin sister. “Montana,” she said, too brightly. “You’ve lost weight.” “I’ve been grieving your brother,” I replied. She didn’t flinch. “He’s been buried now. Time moves forward, and you should too.” Behind her came her husband, Marco. He didn’t speak. He never did. Just stood with his arms folded, as if he were waiting for someone to be dragged out. Then the patriarch himself. Vittorio Rossi. Slower now, but still looming. In a navy suit and the same diamond pin he wore at our wedding. He didn’t offer condolences. Didn’t even pretend.

He was holding the knife with the golden handle as if it were his possession rather than using it to eat as everyone was. “See that man over there?” Giovanni’s said, his voice low. “The one who’s too relaxed, but his fingers are always touching the knife like it’s part of him? That’s Pietro Marino. He runs the rackets in Verona. Killed a man once just because he reached for the wrong breadbasket at dinner.” I blinked, glancing subtly in Pietro’s direction. He looked ordinary enough until you noticed his movements, the way he scanned the room like he owned it. He looked just as cool as Giovanni, but I knew behind every calm exterior lay a dangerous man.

I swerve on to the exit ramp and see Mario shaking his head with a small smirk. "You drive home then," I chuckle as he adjusts the hat over his face. Translation: fratello: brother Stronzo: asshole Figlio di puttana: son of a bitch Papà: dad arriviamo: we come Musica: music Bambino: child sta' zitto: shut up Promettere: to promise

While waiting, she heard the bell ring. So she walked to the front door to check who’s coming. It was someone she didn’t know. So she opened the door a little. “Yes?” “Miss Miller? I’m Pietro Bernardi. I’m working for Mr. Gabriel.” Rosalind remembered the name as Luca mentioned the name today. She smiled at Pietro. “Oh, hello, Pietro, good to see you. I’m Rosalind Miller.” She offered her hand to him.

From his godly face and all the way down to his expensive shoes, this male looked like the epitome of perfection. Tall, with a lean body that only enhanced the stylishness of that neatly pressed white shirt over his well-defined torso, light grey vest and matching dress pants, mixing so well though with that boyish vibe as a few of his combed jet black strands constantly fell over his forehead, making those dark brown piercing eyes of his appear even darker and his cleanly shaved face all the more young. "M-master Nicholas," The maid shockingly sputtered, the girl immediately choking on a piece of bread at the hearing of her words, violently coughing as she struggled to regain her breath.