Romanzi Rosa Novels & Stories

Rain’s lips twitched as she stared at their joined hands, when they finally let go, Rose’s cheeks were as red as her fucking name and for some reason Rain was beginning to grow a strange dislike for Roses. Damn it, her feelings were just all over the fucking place today. The room was as large as a fucking hotel room, a wide table in between two leather sofas. “She’s got nice ass,” Romeo said as he plopped down at the edge of the chair and relaxed into it. Luigi joined him, both of them acting like they were on a vacation. “Sergio’s late,” Enzo said, his eyes on the empty sofa where Mr. Mendes was supposed to seat.

Layla pulled my hand, trying to get me to stay with her. "Honey? What's going on? Are you not happy to see me? Who is she?" She questioned. I turned and looked at her. After seeing my mate, Layla is nothing compaired to her. Alexandria had long, brown hair with beautiful hazel eyes. Layla had short blonde hair and brown eyes. Her face was always caked in makeup. "She's-" I started, but Layla interuppted me.

Bella hurriedly went out to go get what I had ordered her to do. With my hand still forcefully clutching a lock of hair, I turned her around so that I could look at her face. VANESSA.... The grip on my hair was so tight and it made me want to cry, but I had bit down hard on my lips. I cussed loudly when I bit down on the sore in my lips. I tasted my own blood.

Matteo deliberately followed Rose to her room. At the doorway, Rose stopped and looked at him, puzzled. "Is there something else you want to talk about?" Her eyes briefly met Matteo’s. "We're done talking, aren't we?" "Your passport. Can you give it to me now?” Matteo asked. “Oh, right. Wait a moment.” Rose hurried into the room, grabbed Romilda’s passport from her bag, and quickly returned. She handed it to Matteo. He skimmed through it, noting all the countries Romilda had visited. For someone rumored to be leeching off her employer, Romilda had done remarkably well.

“Wait. Is Rose blonde, tall and slender? Has fair skin and hazel eyes?” “It’s amber, not hazel,” I corrected. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Are you out of your mind? She’s part of Cosa Nostra, or did you forget? Rosaline Guerra is off-limits to you, brother. Always has been. Don’t tell me you took that as a challenge.” “She was never a fucking challenge,” I roared back. “She’s part of Cosa Nostra?” Ma breathed, utterly shocked. “I thought she was an outsider.”

I argued. "Your brother was the accountant for a gang—a family rather—The Black Rose." The Black Rose. It was the name Elijah had called his company, and now they were saying it was a gang? "And now that he's gone, they won't stop until they wipe out the rest of The Black Rose," Silas took a step back. "You signed your fate the second you stepped foot in Italy with that passport. If they get their hands on you, they will kill you or worse."

Rose takes a step back, and I follow slowly after her. "Roman, stop," she says. Her voice trembling. But I can't stop. I'm consumed by hate. Rage. "You think you can just move on to him? After everything we shared?" I spit. Rose's face flushes. "We didn't share anything, Roman. You blackmailed me. You said it was just sex" she reminds me. Her words cut deep. But I refuse to acknowledge them. "You're just cheap. Easy. Anyone can have you," I insult.

He had watched her leave it. He had watched her rebuild herself with the particular grace of someone who had decided that what had happened to her was not going to be the largest thing about her. And now Roman was becoming someone. Without announcement, through the specific work of it. The gate. The tea. The letter Dante had mentioned once in passing without details because the details were not Savio's to know. The opera. Rosa had mentioned the flowers in March. Savio had noted it without responding, which was what he did when information confirmed something he had already suspected.

'The Alliance: An Enemies to lovers mafia romance. LEO Rosalina Russo, my vice, my nemisis. The only woman in this god's green earth who ruthlessly trampled over my twisted heart under her six-inch heeled stilettos. One look at her, and my blood runs hotter than ever and I know she feels the same about me too. We have a special connection, something the world could never understand until that spark goes off and turns into a wildfire. *** ROSE

“I dropped it before.” Emilia raised a brow. “Yeah, because you were mad at your husband.” Rosealba turned, lips curved into a soft smile. “We weren’t married then. And we weren't talking. I didn’t want to write about love when I didn’t feel it.” “But now?” Emilia asked, dropping into one of the chairs and crossing her legs. Rosealba gently pulled the manuscript out and stared down at it. The cover was simple—just her name and the title. But the story inside… it was them.