The Don Italian Novels & Stories

I say. "Being a Don is difficult. You do not know whom you can trust. You do not know who your friends are, and you are always on the lookout for danger. In the Italian Mafia, it's the same as in an orphanage: the strongest rule. It's also very lonely because you don't know whom to trust. That is why trust is so essential between a Don and Donna. Your Don or Donna is the only person you can trust when you are in the Italian Mafia. I trust you. I guess we are in love. Together, we will figure it out, honey. Let's drink to our future," Dante says as he lifts his whiskey glass, and I lift my wine glass. "We are the oddest couple in the world? We make even saying I love you complicated," I laugh

“And screaming is inefficient.” His lips curved faintly, not a smile, but something close. “Do you know who I am?” “I know what you are,” I replied. “Your name is secondary.” That earned me his full attention. He stepped closer, stopping just short of the invisible line most men crossed without thinking. He respected space. That, too, I noted. “Nikolai De Luca,” he said. “Don of the ’Ndrangheta.” I inclined my head slightly. Acknowledgment, not deference.

I come to a stop before him, tucking my hands behind my back, standing about a food behind Christian, who doesn’t look back at me. “She hasn’t given you an ounce of trouble, dad,” Christian sighs, pressing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Honestly, this whole thing is ridiculous –“ “I’ll decide what is ridiculous, Cristian,” Don Romano snaps, interrupting Christian and pronouncing his name with a distinct Italian accent that makes it very clear that his name in this house is different than the name I grew up calling him.

Once. "Antonio Romano." He said the name the way you say something you are about to destroy. Quietly. Almost gently. "He's getting bold.” “I will gut him like a fucking animal and burn all his trucks while at it.” He straightened his jacket, tugging the sleeves into place before lifting his eyes to Vito. "Get the car." "Frank." Darius stepped forward from the corner where he had been standing so quietly. "If you go down there personally—"

“Don’t mistake sparks for surrender. I didn’t choose this.” “Neither did I.” He leaned in with a low voice. “But here we are, bound by blood and money. Might as well enjoy the fireworks.” “I would rather set your expensive car ablaze.” He chuckled. “Then I’ll make sure the wine is vintage and the flames are beautiful.” This asshole won't back down. Let's see, Mr. Mafia Lord, Don, or whatever. Alessandro Montrego, the infamous Mafia Don from Italy, with cheekbones sharp enough to slice through my last nerve. Not sure how many people he killed in a day, but I’m sure he’s not a nice guy. Well, all criminals don't deserve the word ‘nice.’

Hmmm I subconsciously grovelled at his rich Italian accent. "Don is another name for Boss right?" "Yes it is. I'm am the Don of an Italy Mafia family" "Like you head a gang here in Italy?" "yes" "And those huge guys are..?" "They are my men. You need to be introduced to them by the way. I will do that after our chit chat" "Okay. So where is O.. " "Oliver, your husband" He cut in. I couldn't help but smile cuz of the look he was giving me right now"

‘Ever the dramatic,’ Tony thought sarcastically. He reached for the silver spoon and knife— Then deliberately dropping the knife. TING The sound echoed like a gunshot in a quiet cathedral. Then, to Tony’s surprised and everyone else in the room— The Don smiled. Then total silence. Maria clutched her dress. Franco shifted nervously. “And who is the real mafia here?” the Don said in his thick, gravelly Italian accent. Like the kind that you only heard in villainous films. Tony shrugged. “You taught me not to bow to anyone, old man.” he said coolly, he was now slowly reaching for a bottle of wine

And guessing from the smug look on his face, he definitely had this planned. He wanted our outfits to match. "Feeling proud of yourself?" I remarked, finally taking my eyes off him and focusing on my reflection again. However Dante was closing the distance between us in no time, his warm fingertips grazing my chin as he turned my head back toward him. "Si, mia moglie!" He breathed out, making my heart stop for a moment. How the hell does this man makes Italian sound so...erotic? "I am quite proud of myself, for managing to impress you."

] ‘Juliette’ Gino jumped at the sound of Romero’s voice and felt his heart drop when he saw his men were captured and he was alone, ‘Oh guarda ecco che arriva il bel ragazzo per la sua ragazza prostituta. Capisco la tua attrazione amico mio, è un bel po' di figa ma in realtà non è un fottuto Don, solo una patetica puttana del cazzo.' [Oh look here comes the pretty boy for his whoring girlfriend. I understand your attraction my friend, she’s a hot bit of pussy but really she’s not a fucking Don, just a pathetic fucking whore.]

"For real this time." My shoulders tensed as he started walking around me, that evil as fuck grin plastered on his face. "Like I said, I heard about the struggle between you and the Polish, but that's not all I heard. A little birdie told me that the stone hearted Andre DiMarco, Don of the entire Italian mafia was so close to capturing the head of the Braterstwo but came back for some girl. A girl!"