When In Rome Novels & Stories

She was in a room made of cold stone, and the only light came from a single, flickering bulb above her head. The door creaked open, and Romeo stepped in, holding a newspaper. He tossed it onto her lap. The headline, still damp with ink, screamed: GAS LEAK DESTROYS CITY FLAT: ONE FEARED DEAD. "Congratulations, Emmanuella," Romeo said with a cruel, thin smile. "To the rest of the world, you no longer exist. Now, tell me where he went, or things get very, very dark."

Rome, 42 BC – The Kalends of March Night lay heavy upon the Palatine, as if Venus herself had cast her veil of crimson silk over the city. Torches flickered in golden sconces; their light refracted in the marble columns of Senator Lucius Cornelius’s villa, transforming every drop of wine into liquid fire. The air was saturated with the scent of myrrh, rose oil, and the sweet smoke rising from the incense burners. Music—deep lyres and bright flutes—wove through the gardens like invisible fingers stroking bare skin.

"Isn't the food ready yet, we folks are starving already." I rolled my eyes, grinning. "Coming, Dad! We're setting everything on the table now!" Then we carried the dishes to the dining room, Dad and Roman soon sauntered into the room. I raised an eyebrow at Roman, who shrugged sheepishly. "When in Rome," he murmured as I set a dish in front of him. "Or San Francisco," I quipped back. Just as we were about to dig in, the doorbell rang. Mom jumped up. "I'll get it!"

Rome Daniele, Cora and Marco’s men drove into Rome she’d never been there before her mother had been too scared to take her their, just incase Nicolo’s men saw her and Cora there and kidnapped both of them and took them back to the mansion. Daniele looked at Cora. "Are you excited sweetheart?" "I am, mom always said it was too dangerous to go into Rome or anywhere in Italy in fact. I was hoping to visit here once I finished university."

began, the air between us felt honest. ​An hour later, Damian was bandaged and sleeping in a fitful, feverish haze. I sat by the window, watching the shadows of Rome move across the cobblestones. The city felt different now. Before, it had been a playground of the elite, a map of power and influence. Now, it was just a place where people lived, worked, and died.

“Another ten minutes and he wouldn’t have made it.” My jaw tightened. Poison in a bullet. Tomaso Greco had stopped pretending this was business. Now it was war. “He’ll recover,” I said. Enzo glanced sideways at me. “You sound confident.” “I am,” I replied, because Raffaele was too stubborn to die from something like that. The car slowed as we entered the central district. Rome opened around us in wide streets lined with old buildings glowing under warm streetlights. Tourists filled the sidewalks while laughter, music, and the distant sound of someone playing a violin drifted from a nearby café.

Rome. He hadn’t been here in ages. He had stirred up too much dust by smashing the marble, and the sediment hung thickly in the daylight, making it hard to tell. He took a deep breath, braced himself, and headed outside. He was right: it was Rome. He looked out, saw the Italian Cypress trees, and knew he could be nowhere else. He realized that he stood at the top of the Roman forum, its green grass, its hills and valleys and crumbling monuments stretched out before him in a gentle slope. It brought back memories. He had killed many people here, back when it was in use, and he had nearly been killed here once himself. He smiled at the thought of it. It was his kind of place.

“Come now, Ricci. We all know you have ears in places most don’t.” His gaze shifted between us, calculating. “And what if I don’t answer?” Leonardo smirked, leaning forward slightly. “Then you lose your place at this table.” Silence. A decision hung in the air. Ricci exhaled, fingers grazing the stem of his glass. “The movements started with Rome. Quiet discussions. Unofficial warnings.” Rome. I met Leonardo’s gaze, the realization unspoken but understood. Rome had always been neutral. Until now.

"It's the safest possible version of a meeting." Lorenzo looked at the window. At the street below. "Two minutes," he said. "You have two minutes and then I'm at the window." "Three," she said. "Two," he said. She didn't argue. She went downstairs. The street was cold. December in Rome had a quality distinct from Sicily ... colder, more considered, the cold of a city that had decided winter was a condition to be navigated rather than endured. People moved with the specific purposeful speed of those who had somewhere to be and intended to be there.

Delicia said with a sweet smile directed at me. "Unlike you, I am picky with what I eat. However, there's a saying: when in Rome, act like the Romans. If you understand, you'll know it's rude to be too forward," I retorted. "Last I checked, this isn't the Roman Empire, dog. We are on Greek land," Delicia gasped, slapping a hand over her mouth before narrowing her eyes at me. "I guess you are too dumb to understand that." I heard Raphael sigh, and I sensed his frustration, although his feelings were challenging to discern from his voice alone.