Under The Tuscan Sun Audiobook Novels & Stories

“Understood.” The rest of the day passed in the study. Valerio at the desk, Luca in the chair beside him. Folders open. Laptops glowing. Low voices discussing routes, payments, alliances. I passed the door once—saw Luca taking notes, asking quiet questions. Valerio answering without impatience. Evening came soft. We ate outside on the terrace—grilled fish, salad, wine for the men, water for me. Livia fell asleep on the lounger with her head in my lap. Luca sat across from us, quiet, watching the sea.

“We haven’t eaten since noon. All our provisions were on the horses that bolted when the earthquake hit.” Ki Randu Alas shook his head. “We’ll eat after we reach Mount Wijil. I’m hungry too, but if we stop for food now, we’ll arrive after dark.” “But if we don’t eat, how are we supposed to climb?” “You’ll manage. All you need are legs willing to take a few more steps than usual.” Wisnumurti frowned. “Why does that sound so familiar?” A faint smile crossed Ki Randu Alas’s face as he walked past him.

I told him. "Thanks. And I'm sorry, by the way. For almost shooting you," he gave me a playful wink and revved the engine. He shifted into a lower gear as we drove through winding curves of the Tuscan countryside. Moonlight filtered through the cypress trees, casting an emerald hue on the terracotta roofs that huddled in sun-faded towns. "The restaurant we're going to has the most delicious food in Italy. They're family friends, and it's small and intimate. You're going to love it."

The Tuscan sun had a way of spilling over the hills like honey, golden and slow, draping the world in warmth that made even the air taste sweeter. Amara stood on the veranda of their rented villa, watching Sophia chase butterflies in the tall grass while Luca read a weathered Italian newspaper at the table. The rhythm of this place was nothing like Bellwood Falls it was slower, deeper, like the land itself was breathing. They’d come to Tuscany for a month to heal — from the fire, from the whirlwind of expansion, from the weight of running a business while raising a family. But Luca had other plans simmering quietly in his mind.

Eve The sun died somewhere over the Atlantic. I watched it happen from the window of the Gulfstream. One minute, there was the blinding, golden promise of Tuscany, the memory of heat on my skin and wine on my tongue. The next, we were descending into a wall of slate-grey cloud that swallowed the world whole. New York doesn't welcome us back. It tolerates us. Rain slashes against the porthole windows, distorting the skyline into a smear of charcoal and steel. The cabin is silent. It’s been that way for most of the seven hour trip.

And beneath the mask… A familiar voice spoke. “Bring me Alessio De Luca…” ”…alive.” ⸻ — End of Chapter 45 —

"Elena," Howard Chen said. "Are you all right?" "Yes," she said. "I'm — yes." She looked at the green pen. "Howard. Read me the first line." A pause. The sound of papers. Then Howard Chen read. One sentence. She heard it. She looked at her notebook. She opened it to the first Tuscan page. She read the first line she had written in the Siena restaurant on the last evening of the ten days. She looked at the two sentences.

Santos’ gaze sent chills through her, but she chose to ignore it. Aldo’s eyes went to Rico. Sunny didn’t miss the small smile that appeared on his lips. He was enjoying this as much as she was. “Are you planning on having dinner with us?, uscire!” Santo barked, making Aldo and sunny flinch. Sunny didn't know what he said in Italian but it was enough to keep her quiet and continue eating while aldo walked away. ("Get out!") The dinner table fell silent. The only sound that could be heard was the cutleries clinking against the plate.

My head felt like it was splitting open. Fever. Through the haze, I heard Alessio's voice, soft and gentle, from the other side of the wall. "Hey, little one, want daddy to tell you a story?" I thought he was talking to his daughter, until I heard Aurelia's delicate laugh. "Alessio, can the baby even hear you when you talk to my stomach?" "Of course," his voice was thick with affection. "The doctor said it's important." Then he began to read. A passage from The Godfather.

Between words came more touches, more slow kisses, more making love under the fading stars. By the time the sun rose over the Tyrrhenian Sea, we were tangled together, exhausted but happy. Luca kissed my forehead. "Come home with me today. My real house, not the hotel suite. I want to show you everything." "I’d love that." I snuggled closer. "This feels like the start of something good." His phone buzzed on the ground. He ignored it at first, but it kept going. "Check it," I said. "Might be important."