Adriana Rizzo Age Mga Nobela at Kwento

“So tell me about yourself what do you do?, just give me details about yourself” “Okay so my name is Luciano Rizzo, I am 27, and I'm the CEO of Rizzo Corp although the company was owned by my father. “Oh that's nice” she said as she maintained eye contact with me. “I also own a hotel, I'm not telling you the name now but I'll tell you soon enough” “Okay Mr L” she laughed. Rita looksOh okay sure, so heads up I'm going to totally tell you how I feel pretty when she laughs, it's amazing.

My words stop as I see Ashton sitting with a woman's arms wrapped around his neck. "Ahh, my daughter Gracie." I look at Rizzo, his daughter. "That can't be possible?" He doesn't look old enough. He laughs slightly. "Thank you for thinking I look so young. She is twenty-three, and I was sixteen when she was born. A little bit wild in my younger years." A little? I laugh slightly, but my eyes keep going back to Ashton. Rizzo moves, his arms on either side of me as his mouth comes to my ear. "They are always close, Gracie and Ashton were dating for a little over eight months."

Zico walked in with a brown paper, and I cleared my throat, ready to hear the information that I demanded. I sat down calmly ready to hear. "Speak," I demanded. "Linxara Brooke, Age 24. She speaks raw Aussie accent which shows that she is an Australian woman. She lives with her mother who was diagnosed with hypertension and stage IV diabetic foot ulcer. She works as a waitress in the day and a stripper at night to handle her bills." Zico stopped talking and looked at me.

I extended my hand to her. She shook it firmly. “Call me Ria,” she said, her voice bubbly and warm. Her smile was probably the only genuine one I’d seen all day. “Adriana used to live here before,” he continued, “but then she decided to randomly pack up and move halfway across the world. And now, well… she’s back.” Ria rolled her eyes with a light laugh. “Don’t listen to him.” Before I could say anything else, the music suddenly stopped.

She must have been surprised that I noticed her staring at me, even with my eyes on the table. “Uh... I’m... I’m—” “Stop picking on little girls, Adriano,” Kyle interjected, acting like the jerk he was. “I’m not a little girl, Kyle!” the younger Rodriguez exclaimed, glaring at him. Despite her fierce words, her face was still bright red. Kyle shot her a frown. “You’re still a little—” “I’m nineteen, so I’m not little. I’m an adult and can speak for myself.” I was right; it wasn’t just the eldest Rodriguez who had guts; the younger one did too.

The Rossi villa blazed with firelight, a storm of music, laughter, and politics. Tonight was no ordinary gathering—it was a display of power. Don Enzo had called allies, merchants, and politicians into his gilded hall to remind Naples that the Rossi name still carried weight. Adriana moved through the throng like a phantom, her emerald gown trailing across marble tiles. Men bowed politely, women smiled thinly, but none of it touched her. Her eyes skimmed over jeweled chandeliers, the sea of masks and wine, searching for escape. She hated these nights—the false laughter, the heavy perfume of lies.

“He’s not a guest, just… someone passing by.” “Is that so?” Mrs. Rika’s tone dripped with sarcasm. “Funny how a passerby can make you smile, when your own family can’t.” Vania shook her head, refusing to be drawn into the provocation. “I’m going inside.” But Mrs. Rika descended the porch steps instead, her gaze raking over Adrian from head to toe. “I’m the lady of this house. And you are…?” “Adrian Valerio,” he said politely, still smiling. “A new friend of Vania’s.”

“Aidan, who is she?!” Aidan instinctively wrapped an arm around Adriana’s waist, his thoughts briefly distracted: Why has she lost weight again? His protective stance was evident as he looked back at the girl with a faintly smug expression. “Who is she? Isn’t it obvious?” The girl was around twenty-five or twenty-six, dressed in a doll-collared outfit, with medium-length, sleek, ion-permed hair. Her makeup was carefully done in shades of orange and shimmering eyeshadow, giving her a youthful, Lolita-inspired appearance at first glance.

“I’m sorry. I was just… I’m waiting for my girlfriend. She lives in 4A.” Romeo took a slow sip of his espresso. “Your girlfriend?” “Yes. Irene.” “Fascinating,” Romeo drawled smoothly, leaning his broad shoulder against his doorframe. “Because I happen to be Irene’s neighbor, and I was under the distinct impression she was currently single. And actively ignoring you.” Adrian’s polite, beige demeanor instantly cracked. His posture stiffened. “Excuse me? Who are you?” “Dr. Romeo Rossi,” Romeo replied, extending a hand that Adrian nervously hesitated to shake. “I just moved in. And you must be Adrian. The accountant.”

Adrian was already at the diner when I got there. I contemplated telling Lorenzo about my meeting, but thought it better to keep it to myself for the time being. I would inform him of the meeting once I found some answers. I didn’t trust him because he had lied to me so many times. “Adrian DeLuca. My name is Serena Ricci, but I prefer to be called Serena Marino.” Adrian stood up to greet me. I could see the resemblance between him and Nero. They were both hot and very alluring. Except that Adrian didn’t wear glasses like Nero, and he had smile lines around his eyes. He had a glint in his eyes that Nero didn’t.