The Italian Job Game Novels & Stories

“And they are nothing compared to Hell, and you know it! No one even knows who he is!” Luca nodded, pursing his lips. “True. And that is precisely why I'd like to hire you.” Hire me? Oh yeah, he had definitely lost his mind. “This isn't hiring. You threatened me into working for you!” The Italian brute shrugged and straightened. “Hiring, threatening, same shit, Vera. Look, I traveled down from Italy to find you. If anyone can uncover Hell's true identity and get rid of him while at it, it's you.”

“Watch. Learn. Keep your mouth shut unless I tell you to speak. Disobey once, and you’ll regret it.” I gave him a sharp nod. “Fine. Just don’t expect me to be quiet forever.” He smirked again. “Oh, I don’t. That’s what makes this interesting.” And just like that, I was no longer just a girl paying off her brother’s debt. There was no backing out now. No retreat, no surrender. I was in the game now. This game was like a game of chess. It was a do-or-die affair. And Luciano Romano? He was the kind of man who never played fair.

Elias’s door creaked open, his eyes wide and knowing. I picked it up. “Good girl,” Franca’s voice purred. The words slithered under my skin. “I knew you wouldn’t fail me.” The air left my lungs. My knuckles whitened around the phone. “What are you talking about?” “The job,” she said simply. Amusement dripped from every syllable. “ It was clean, efficient. Just the way I like my loyal dogs to work.” Behind me, Matteo shifted. A silence sharp as glass filled the room.

“It’s unbelievable you’re in this position.” “I didn’t work the Mafia circuit until the job with Sierra came up. The intelligence from the bureau indicated she’d be likely to hire someone like me. Then I landed the De Luca job because I can speak Italian.” “I mean, anyone who looked at your file could figure out there was a connection there.” She flips the file closed with force. “James should have fought to keep you off this job.”

Then a grunt and thud interrupt the conversation. My stomach churns. I'm not the most fluent in Italian, but I'm quite sure he just said he's gonna kill some guy named "Ottavio" if he actually lost "the cargo". What cargo? Who's Ottavio? And who the heck's driving my employer hopping mad at this ungodly hour? Shit. My common sense is telling me to run for the exit and pretend I didn't hear anything. But sheer curiosity is pinning my feet on this rug.

Alice suggested, as her daughter clung to Massimo’s shirt, clearly trying to read in his expression what the surprise might be “Me and Daddy are a little tired, you know? He wasn’t lying when he said he had a lot of work to do in Italy.” “So you didn’t go out to see those beautiful places you showed me on the phone?” Millie gasped, almost scandalized “But Daddy said the food and ice cream there are really good…!” “Oh, I took your mother out for some fun, but not as much as I would have liked.” Massimo said, as he slid his chair towards the living room “And, as I couldn't leave my Piccola without a piece of Italy, I hired one of the chefs from the restaurant your mother liked the most. He wil

I glanced at the man, instantly recognizing his features. "Who are you?" the guy snaps. He looks like he is going to eat flesh right now. He appears to be an Italian Mafia boss.

I grunted. "Well, this one is important. Since you're new you might not know this, but everyone here is playing a death game. An assasination and survival game to be exact." "A 'what' game!?" I almost raised my voice, "What do you mean?" now saying it softer.

" Jacob looked at her for a long time, his eyes glittering with what appeared to be respect. She really enjoyed working for him. He was tough. He was obstinate. He was the only person she’d told her own side of the story at what happened at her last job. "I never expected you to land the account based on anything less than your brilliance, Anika," Jacob replied quietly. "I sincerely hope I never gave you any other impression." "I know. I value your assurance more than you realize. I will not disappoint you. I will not fail Stoll Communications."

He follows my gaze. “Oh,” he says. “Ohhhhh. Okay. Damn.” I grunt, exhausted. “…but also,” he says, eyes suddenly lighting up, “what job? Who hired you? Are they hot? Are they rich? Oh my God, is this a mafia thing? Did you take another mafia job? I swear to God, Gio, if you drag us all back into crime—” “It’s a private-bodyguard contract.” Matteo’s eyes go round. “For who?”