Paris, scarred but surviving after the French Revolution, is a city caught between ashes and new beginnings. Claire, a widowed painter, resolves to pick up her brushes again after years of silence. By the Seine she meets Étienne, a wounded former soldier who has lost faith in causes, hope, and himself.
She offers him bread, wine, and-most unwillingly on his part-a place as her model. He hates sitting still, she teases him into doing it anyway, and soon her sketchbooks are filled not only with his face but with his grumbling.
As lanterns glow across the river, their banter deepens into something gentler: Claire paints not just scars but resilience, and Étienne begins to see himself anew through her eyes. Yet old ties to the Revolution threaten to drag him back into danger, forcing them to stand together-with wit, courage, and love-against a city still restless with shadows.
Bread, Wine, and a Portrait is a historical romance of humor and tenderness, where healing is drawn stroke by stroke and love grows in the light of lanterns on the Seine.
When she was 14, Dalia was sold to Matteo Martinelli, the former leader of the largest Italian mafia. Flash forward with his son, Vittore Martinelli as the new leader, Dalia is given to him as a birthday present after years in spent in the "safe house". Dalia struggles to fulfill a promise she made and get her old self back as Vittore tries not to fall for the black beauty. Will they go through all the lies, jealousy, betrayal, envy, lust and murder together all in the name of love?
Because at the end of it all, she is still Property Of Vittore Martinelli.
* * *
"Lift your hand," I said looking at how he held onto his bicep with a tight grip. "Let me take a look at the bullet wound."
"No tesoro. I can do this myself," Vittore grumbled and I gave him incredulous look.
"Don't start that bullshit with me Vittore. Remove your arm and let me help you or..." I trailed off, not able to say more. I was still in shock but I could do this. "Just... just let me help."
"No."
I glared at Vittore. "Why are you being so damn egotistic?! Let me help you! Do you know what it was like to find you like... and to..." I couldn't even get all the words out. "Let me help you. Please."
Begging wasn't something I'd ever do but I just needed him to let me help him.
"No-"
"Why?!" I suddenly exploded. "Why won't you just let me help you?!"
"Because I don't know how to handle it ok?!" Vittore suddenly exploded, his dark eyes glaring at me. "I don't know how to handle these... feelings. Fuck tesoro you drive me crazy! Don't you see that? You make me question everything I've ever known and... I can't..."
I watched Vittore as his expression turned determined.
"Fuck it."
He leaned forward and pressed his lips on mine.
* * *
WARNING!
Mentions of death, torture, gore, abuse and other things related to the mafia.