The Don Italian Novels & Stories

“What does he want?” Donatello was the don of his little syndicate in Detroit, who was trying to make a name for himself after disbanding from the Alfa Nove, the group of nine heads of the Italian mafia groups that were spread throughout the US. He used to be one of my father’s old subordinates, but after my father had been killed by the Bratvas, I didn’t trust anyone outside of the people I already knew would die for me and Donatello wasn’t one of them.

) he asked with a thick Italian accent. The men glanced at Isabella. "dove scusa capo ma questa cagna ci stava dando filo da torcere" (where sorry Capo but this bitch was giving us trouble) one of them said as the man shakes his head. "Sono circondato da idioti, mettila in macchina, i jet aspettano e dobbiamo riportarla in Sicilia in tempo per il compleanno del Don, altrimenti Giovanni ci ucciderà, ma prima che lo faccia ti ammazzo fino all'ultimo imbecilli"(Im sorrounded by idiots, get her in the car, vthe jets waiting and we need to get her back in sicily in time for the Don's birthday if not then Giovanni will kill us, but before he does I'll kill every last one of you imbeciles) the man

But first, I had to get to the root of an issue. I looked at Matteo who was still standing there. "Have you heard about the rumours Luca Manno happens to be spreading?" Matteo nodded. "He says Don poisoned him because he wants to take over his territory." I shook my head. Luca Manno was a big fat liar, he handles only minority territories while my father's power cut across various states so what would my father need his crumbs for? I needed to go to the root of this all because soon I would take over my father fully.

Old age was evident on him. We entered the church, and all eyes turned to me. The bride. The soon-to-be wife of Don Adri, the son of Dante one of the most dangerous men in the Italian Mafia, so feared not even the police liked to interfere. So popular, he had loyal men in and out of Italy and, after his death, all that was his became Adriano's.

Wilbet hated the sight of my tears. Forcing myself to breathe, I shook my head. "That is Malcolm Laurent," he scoffed, as if the name irritated him. "A very powerful man. Some say he has affiliates with the Mafia, and you were standing there chatting with him like a damn fool." I curled my fingers into my palm, feeling my nails dig into the flesh there. Wilbet turned to me harshly, grabbing my face. "Tell me, dear wife, did you embarrass me?" I knew "embarrass" was code for Did you tell him I hit you?

Pocketing the box, I grimace at the Densel's. "Congratulations, Costa." Deric Densel, or Don Densel as most know him, speaks with a heavy-set northern English twang. He is Italian by blood, but he isn't Italian by nature. For years, they diluted themselves with the likes of English women. I don't think they could even string an Italian sentence together. "Thank you, Don Densel," I manage to sound sincere.

“How is life with my old friend?” “Better every day,” Sandra replied, taking note of the tall attractive Italian woman, in a very tight blue dress, watching them closely from a nearby table. “What shall I call you? I don’t remember Creighton ever telling me your full name.” The man laughed, causing the woman nearby to frown. “It is Donato Vigano, but the people I know just call me the Don.” “Well, I think I’ll just call you Donato. It’s your name after all.”

I grabbed Santos's hands and he chuckled. "Hey, calm down, okay? They won't do anything to you" "Easy for you to say. You are used to this life. I am not" "Well, I never wanted this life for myself, but what to do, huh?" He pushed my hands away and I held him back. "I didn't mean it that way. I am sorry, huh?" Immediately we got into the mansion I saw a very big framed picture of Don. The Don is so good-looking. One of the hardest things to do in Italy is to pick a man because they are all so good-looking and hot.

She didn’t know what was worse, crying over it thanks to the pregnancy hormones that were driving her insane, or having the Italian look at her like a crying little girl. “So what? What are we waiting to go? Look I’ve already cancelled my meeting for you. The least you can do is let me give you a ride.” “Don’t mess with my head sir,” Melody couldn’t remember what the hell the driver/assistant had called him when he arrived. A name like díaneto or ganetto. The little bell on the door rang and Doyle walked in through it. “Melody, what the hell is...?” Doyle let the question hang in the air as his gaze fell on the Italian, Melody watched as his expression changed from confusion and concern to p

“How unfortunate. Something as spicy and sweet just like you.” “Then I suggest the carbonara di salsiccia piccante,” I said pointing at the item and description on the menu. “It is a carbonara dish with spicy Italian sausage, so it has the kick that you would want. It is dressed in a marinara with diced tomatoes so there is also that complimenting sweetness.” “Perfect,” he hummed out. He turned to D and smiled. “Don, you sure know how to pick’em.” Don? I quirked a brow at that and looked at D who I can now identify as Don. He narrowed his eyes at the man I assisted. He was agitated. I could tell by the way he twisted the butter knife between his fingers and how he glared at his associate.