The Italian Job Game นิยาย & เรื่องราว

She paused to blink back the tears that were threatening to fall down her cheeks while Ruth on the other hand was already tearing up. Dera cleaned her cheeks with a sleeve of her ash sweatshirt, "I didn't know what to do, I thought of coming back home but decided against it. After mourning the death of my mom I got a job as a secretary in a gaming company, my job was okay but again as you know, things didn't stay good for too long. My boss tried to rape me and when I threaten to report him, he told me to go ahead and I'll see who will go to jail between the both of us." "I got scared and quit my job, I moved to Spain and from there, life has been fair, not good but it was better than Italy.

"Compare her height, her shoulder-to-hip ratio, and her exact stride length against every file we have on Aria. I don't care if the voice doesn't match. I want to know if the bones do." Marcus looked startled, but he bowed his head instantly. "Right away, boss." The elevator doors slid shut, and as the machine carried me up to my empty, haunted palace, I gripped the obsidian mask until my knuckles turned white. If you are playing a game with me behind that carbon fiber, little bird, I thought, a dark, possessive fire igniting in my chest, you better pray I don't catch you. Because the moment I rip that mask off and find your eyes behind it, I am never letting you go again.

In the rushing silence, Phoebe could now hear every word of the dialogue carrying through from the office next door. “‘Molto bene’, … (Italian for ‘Very well’) As long as I continue to appear genuinely interested in acquiring ‘Digital Lyfe’, the snakes from ‘Cloudtec’ will stay put and wait patiently,” a powerful male voice with a sexy accent was murmuring with satisfaction. “I’ll make my move the minute the market opens on Wednesday. And after that… ‘I giochi sono fatti’ (Ita. for ‘Game over’).” Phoebe heard whoever else was on the other side of the door catch their breath audibly. She felt like a total idiot. What the heck had she been thinking of? The maintenance trolley parked outside su

I shrug once again and lean back in my chair. "Don't slouch Nicola," Mom states and I roll my eyes. A twenty-nine year old man can still get bossed around by his mother. She can be more frightening than dad, and he's the leader of a mafia. "Yesterday was her first full day here in Italy," Stef tells me. "She would've had to mess up real quick to cause a small group of drug dealers to follow her. They know we took her."

[Of course, Sir. "I wouldn't want to harm your precious little family, either, just because of this setback. But I need you to stay with Maxim. Closely." Stefano continued to stare at me. Cold, gray eyes...they showed nothing but apathy and conceit. "You could work for us after you graduate. And since Lorenzio also seems to be fond of you, I'm sure you'll do fine here." Work here in Italy for the Falcos? Permanently?

“ Are you really asking me to join you like a normal worker ? With a wage ? “ said Mel surprised . “ You will be living here so accommodation included . “ said Massimo . “ No bills to pay and I can still get a monthly wage ?……I’d love to work for you boss . “ said Mel with a smile . “ Hiring a new spy ain’t cheap so make sure my money is well invested . “ said Massimo with a serious tone . “ You bet I will . “ said Mel excited . “ Alright ! Now go back and tomorrow you will come to my office to tell me what I want to know . I am still angry looking at you . Remember that this os the last chance you have . If you dare play any funny games , it will definitely be game over for you . “ said Mas

The fact that he knew my name sent goosebumps sprouting on my skin, still, I shook my head, trying to draw him out with a conversation and hopefully hatch an escape plan. My response displeased him. His lips curled in distate, making him look even more villainous and serpentine. "Of course. You Italians think you run the show around here. Well, allow me to educate you, Bianca-" he said, his voice dripping with fake cheer, "the way you Italians have the Cosa Nostra is the same way we the Polish have the Braterstwo. We're the brotherhood and you do not want to know how many of my brothers have been killed by your Andre and his men."

Alessia ─ ∘❉∘ ─ They were playing games. They were not the kind we played back in Chicago, not spin-the-bottle or some watered-down version of Truth or Dare. These were Italian games, I guess. I didn’t know the rules. I didn’t even know the names. There was “Palla Avvelenata”, some drunk version of dodgeball using a rolled-up towel soaked in seawater, half the boys were shirtless by the time it ended.

The man was holding up one finger and repeating something in Italian. “He says there’s just one slot remaining if we’re interested.” Alessio translated, slightly squinting under the glare of the bright sun. “Well, that’s perfect! I can learn how to make an Italian snack and later show off my skills to David and Hannah when I get back.” I said with excitement, almost bouncing on the balls of my feet. “So you want to do this?” “Yes.” I nodded eagerly. “Do you?” “I do if you do.” Even though my cheeks were starting to hurt a little, I still smiled widely.

I called out but there was no response from him. He didn’t even glance my way. Seriously? I cleared my throat, calling out again. “Hey Skylo. We need to leave soon. I have lectures.” Still nothing. He kept talking to the other guy—Marco or Marzio in Italian about a weapons drop-off in Milan that went wrong and a missing container. Their voices dipped lower, more Italian slipping in between English. “Cinque uomini dispersi,” Skylo said, dragging on his cigarette. “Il boss è già incazzato.” (Five men missing. The boss is already pissed as fuck)