Damon-salvatore Gif Novels & Stories

Damien’s voice was unnaturally calm, but it cut through the silence like a razor’s edge. Caruso laughed, pulling me to my feet and dragging me in front of him, a cold pistol suddenly pressed against my temple. “Salvatore! So glad you could make it. I was worried your broken heart might have slowed you down.” “Last chance,” Damien said, taking a slow step forward, Marco fanning out to his right.

I realize he's sorry, and I try to understand his dominant tendencies, but he needs to understand that I can't cut off all the men in my life. -Damon, I'm your girlfriend. If you see me with other men, it doesn't mean I'm cheating on you, so please try to be more restrained next time. I saw he was trying to provoke you, and I know his intentions, but I don't want to ruin this evening. -I promise I won't act like I did earlier, but who is this Victor? -He's the son of my dad's best friend, so please ignore him; he's just rude.

“Get up…..dad.” Salvatore stares at his son with eyes full of shock, but does as he says. “D-do you forgive me, son?” “Yes, I do… we’ve hurt each other somehow. And you’re right, I think mom would want us together.” “Thank you, Damien….thank you so much.” Salvatore wipes his son’s tears, just as Damien did for him before they turned to us. Rather, Damien stares at me, eyes shining with love, passion, and a hint of nervousness. “Thank you.” He mouths, and I blinked at him, then whispered

“Morning.” Without another word, I placed the old photograph on the coffee table and pointed directly at the logo. “I’ve seen this before.” He studied it carefully, his brow furrowing. “Where?” “Hart Global.” The words hung between us. Thick and heavy silence stretched. Damien looked from the photograph to me, his expression hardening into something unreadable yet intense. Finally, he spoke. “Get ready.” I frowned. “For what?” “We’re going to my office.”

“Explain what this is, Antonio.” The man lifted both hands in the air. “Salvatore, stop getting worked up. I wanted a moment with your wife. It's not like I'm going to eat her.” Damien's fist connected with his jaw. He stumbled backward, slamming into our table. I flinched, taking a step back as Damien crouched beside him. He crumbled the card into a ball and shoved it into the man's mouth. The man choked, hitting Damien's chest as he tried to push him off.

I grinned "In the light of knowing your age, I'll say you should stop being a worrywart,.least you start growing grey hairs and fight less because you'll be running out of energy faster than we young people" He burst to laughter. Louder than the previous ones I've ever heard from him. He seemed very free and happy, not like the Boss of the underworld, not like the owner of a multimillion dollars company, Just Damien. The husband of Serena Rossi and the Father of Maria Genovese. That's who he looks like in this moment. It warmed something in my chest and I lifted my hand to rub it.

She was lucky I didn’t want to destroy her relationship with Nikolas. When we arrived, Nikolas opened the door for me and led me inside with his hand touching my ass. I blushed the whole way there. Once the door opened and I saw Carlo, my face fell and I tensed. I forgot about him. “Nikolas…” I begged with my eyes but he smirked as he looked at me. “You’re not saving this piece of shit, Viola.” “I’m a Mancuso!” Carlo yelled, and he received a punch from Nicco for it.

"You're right. Safety might be relative in your situation. But you're not actively being hurt right now. That's a start." "Is it?" Luca looked at her directly. "Because I feel like I'm just waiting for the next bad thing to happen. I feel like this is temporary and any moment someone's going to drag me back to....." His voice cracked. "I can't do this." "Yes, you can. You already are." Downstairs, Dante's phone buzzed. Unknown number. He answered it anyway. "Dante Salvatore." The voice on the other end was heavily accented Russian. "This is Viktor Kozlov. I believe we need to have a conversation."

Damon loosened his tie slightly as he walked toward his office. He was tired. Not physically. Something worse. The kind of exhaustion that lived inside your bones after surviving too much. His phone buzzed. One message. From Luca. Eat something today. Damon stared at the text Then smiled despite himself. Small. Automatic. Dangerous. Another message appeared immediately after: Coffee does not count as food. Damon huffed softly. Then typed back: You sound domestic. Three dots appeared instantly. Don’t insult me. Damon laughed quietly under his breath.

He smiles, “I don’t want to scare you off, Alice. I just wanted to convince you that I was there, I was the one that saved you and not the other way around. I would never hurt—“ I cut him off, “—it’s okay. I understand and I’m not scared. I just want to know more,” “Of course. You can ask me anything and I’ll be truthful,” “How old are you, Damon?” Damon is no way more than his early 30s. The way he carries himself, the way he dresses and the way he speaks, it wouldn’t cause any suspicion. However, there is just something in his gaze. As if he has been through years or even centuries as the world folds into a different era. He moves slower, he takes his time in the words he speaks. I am conf