The Seven Year Itch Erasing The Donna Novels & Stories

I'd been married to Lucas, the Don of the Mitchell family—the biggest crime syndicate in the country—for six years when I found out he'd given my own daughter to his savior to raise. I was about to confront him when he beat me to it, asking for a divorce. His savior didn't have much time left. Her dying wish was to become his Donna. "She ended up like this because she saved me. Her last wish is just to be my Donna. You understand, don't you?" "Don't worry. You'll always be my only Donna. Once this is over, we'll remarry right away." I'd lost count of how many times he'd sacrificed me for her. So I nodded calmly and signed the divorce papers. Seven years of love. Nine hundred and ninety-nine

The ninety-ninth time Luca Moretti canceled our wedding, I was on my way to the venue. "The Delorme shipment leaves the docks at ten tonight. Go keep an eye on it." Through the phone, I could hear the noise of a party and Nina's whining voice. "Luca, let's hit a bar after this, okay? We haven't let loose like this in forever." I tightened my grip on the phone. "You said we'd go see the wedding venue tonight." "Another time, Sophia. The shipment can't wait, and Nina deserves a chance to unwind." He paused, as if something had just occurred to him, and added, "Nina's craving the soufflé from that French place on the south side. Grab one on your way back." I stood there for three seconds

My husband, Severo Falcone, is the Don who rules Sicara's criminal underworld. His days are filled with high-stakes negotiations and bloody turf wars. So, over the years, I've grown accustomed to his absence from our lives. On our wedding anniversary, he was negotiating by the docks. When our daughter, Lucia Falcone, attended her first family gathering, he was called away to deal with a territorial dispute. Even on Lucia's fifth birthday, all he offers is a promise over the phone. "Something's come up tonight. I'll make it up to her when I'm done." I think nothing of it. Then, half an hour later, Ylenia Bianchi sends me a photo. At a private clinic, Severo is sitting by her bed, persona

“So that’s why he just had to see how far I could spurt. That bum! He was treating me like a windup toy! And if he could get the spring just a little tighter ... Shit! It was awful!” “How far did you go?” “One was almost five feet,” Donna replied, scarcely able to control the prideful sound in her voice. Then to Conchita she said, “Chita, you’ve got your work cut out for you today. We made a helluva mess all over the place.”

"This is compensation. I only ask that the Rainier family spare Alexander’s life." Vincent, standing behind Ivy, scoffed coldly. "You think this little offering buys a life?" The donna took a deep breath, as if making a final resolution. "I have convened the Commissione. Given that Alexander’s foolish actions have caused the family colossal losses, he has been officially removed from his position as Don." "From today on, he is no longer the Godfather. He is just a commoner with nothing." "This is the last thing I can do as a mother."

With that, she excused herself, casting a mildly reproachful look at Seven on her way out for snatching her so unceremoniously from her place of work. Seven simply shrugged, unfazed by her silent reprimand. He'd done what was needed to ensure the safety of his Donna. Consequences be damned. No apologies were necessary for that. Though he did sigh in relief once the doctor left, raking a hand through his tousled locks. ‘Thank goodness Donna would be okay.’ He'd heard their explosive fight earlier, the vicious words and crashing sounds of objects being thrown. And he knew it was only a matter of time before their argument devolved into an equally intense sexcapade.

He rushed forward, about to announce Lia's disappearance. The doors suddenly swung open. The hall fell silent. "Lia…" my father's face went pale. "What nonsense is this?" Riccardo froze, staring at her. "Lia…" Lia scanned the room, ignoring the sudden intensity in Riccardo's eyes. She spoke loudly, clearly, and deliberately. "Sorry to interrupt your little comedy. I announce that today's Donna ceremony is void." The crowd froze. Lina screamed first. "Bah! Our father is the Don! Who gave you the right to oppose him?"

"Donna, I'm truly sorry for troubling you. Once my apartment is fixed, I'll move out. We won't stay long." I said nothing more and turned upstairs. That night at dinner, Matteo suddenly brought it up. "Tomorrow is our wedding anniversary. "Seven beautiful years," he said. "I've arranged for dinner to be prepared at the seaside villa. We'll stay there for a few days. Just the two of us." He looked at me, his eyes gentle. "I'll transfer that villa to your name. It's yours from now on." Sienna was feeding the baby. At his words, she looked up and smiled. "Mr. Bellandi, you're so good to Donna. Seven years of marriage and still this loving. It's enviable."

On our seventh wedding anniversary, my wife, Blair, the daughter of the city's richest man, straddled my lap, her kiss deep and intoxicating as she toyed with my lower lip. The same night, we just announced our pregnancy to the world. Just then, Blair's best friend, Chloe, asked in French, her tone suggestive: "Blair, you're absolutely glowing. But tell me honestly, how does it feel to get railed by another man while carrying a baby?" Blair let out a soft laugh, a familiar sound that sent a chill down my spine. She replied, also in French: "It feels absolutely incredible, Chloe. He's like a wild wolf. Just yesterday, he had his head buried between my thighs, using his mouth to bring me

Eric cut in, the words precise and cold, “then she is either the most skilled survivor I have ever encountered, or she is still part of the machine that put Donna on that coastal road and left her there. Either way, I will find her. And when I do, she will look me in the eye and tell me exactly what happened the night my sister died. No lawyers. No prepared statements. No convenient fires. Just the truth.” He walked to the table and opened the original case file again. Donna’s photograph stared up at him from the first page smiling, alive, wearing the red coat they had found thirty feet from her body. The same red coat the fabricated footage had claimed Lottie Smith failed to notice in time.