Dante Devil May Novels & Stories

The bouquet filled the car with a sweet scent that calmed me a fraction. My phone rang halfway there, it was an anonymous number. I answered and put the phone on speaker. “Come posso aiutarti, bastardo?” How can I help you, bastard? “How dare you, Diavolo?” Dante’s voice came through, ragged with smoke and fury. “Everything I built is gone, my men are dead, all thanks to you.”

“She will be mine forever. Fifty million dollars.” My eyes flew open. Dante stood at the edge of the VIP balcony, black tuxedo immaculate, no mask needed because everyone knew that face. He held his paddle high, expression calm as if he were bidding on a vintage car instead of a human life. Relief crashed through me first—sharp, dizzying. Dante. The devil I knew. The one who threatened fingers and teeth but had never once touched me like those men wanted to. Then fear followed, cold and twisting. Forever. Not one night. Not an evening’s toy. Forever.

“Then maybe you should be asking yourself why you can’t stop wanting the devil’s daughter.” Dante’s hand caught the back of her chair, his grip white-knuckled. His breath brushed her temple. “Because I’d rather own the fire than let it burn me.” Valentina’s pulse thundered. Her mask held. But the cracks were showing, and she knew he saw everyone. The silence after Dante’s last words wasn’t silence at all — it was a blade pressed between them. Valentina leaned back in the chair, her crimson smile daring. “Own the fire? Careful, Dante. You might get burned.”

Really is an extreme drink for straight people like Regi and Jenny. "Have a meal, Miss Jenny. We'll talk casually but surely." Gerand spontaneously rolled his lazy eyes. What Deny said was too ridiculous in his ears. "Oh yes, I will introduce myself first. My name is Deny Felixa. Owner of Felixa Corp in America. I plan to cooperate with this company. I am also Mr. Yosefa's younger cousin." Regi just stared embarrassed at the person who spoke, this was the second time he had heard this. Then it's still the same as before, that person's pretentious face is still visible.

Dante Mancini, known in the mob as the Devil, since by his works in the organization where he is the leader, is the most cruel and ruthless in taking revenge. The Devil, as many know him, inherited the business empire and mafia territories from his father, Mr. Demetrio Mancini. After his death, Dante had to take complete charge of everything, remaining in charge as the head of the entire Italian territory and a large part of the European and American continent.

I and Dante made a sharp pivot and my gaze fell upon a young handsome man, probably Dante's age, coming towards us. His chestnut brown hair was slick, cascading down the nape of his neck. His brows were full and his eyes carried a shade of ocean blue but I noticed an awful straight scar that was indented next to his left eye. That must have been deep. He was as tall as Dante and he was equally muscular. But overall, he was good looking. His smile was rather infectious too. "Ah Valentine Greco. If I'm the devil then what are you?" Dante asked with a brow slightly raised.

A black SUV pulls up, dust billowing around it as it comes to a stop. The door opens, and sure enough, but it’s Dante, his expression grim as he steps out. He’s followed by Axton for some reason. Of course, I fucking forgot Dante is based here. Fuck, that demon did a number on me. “Ah, I think I might like the calvary,” I greet him, my voice a low growl. “Took you long enough, asshole.”

Alex chuckled, “His name is Dante Giordano.” I turned to him, my jaw dropping in disbelief. “Dante Giordano? As in… the leader of the Tiger Fangs gang?” The most notorious ruthless mafia syndicate in probably the world. Dante was known to be ruthless in his dealings which earned him the name ‘The Devil’. Alex simply nodded. A low whistle escaped my lips. “You sneaky bastard. Who would have thought the good boy you pretend to be would be friends with the devil himself?” “We met by chance,” Alex said, his gaze fixed on the road. “And Dante owes me a favour.”

The Earl shrieked in wonder, "You call her a maiden! She is no maiden. She's a thief! A mercenary, unbelievable thief!" He continued barking while he walked backwards away from them, "She handed her drink to the Earl of Vetcom, said things too daring for any normal Scottish woman and stole food. You would not call such person a mai…" He found himself staggering suddenly, noticing he was just at the edge of a ditch, one he didn't notice because he was too busy shouting. While he found himself falling into it, a hand quickly gripped around his hard and tight. Gently, that same hand pulled him up, straight back to his balance. And it was the devil herself.

He turns the stairs wondering if Christian will run down to sit beside his now awake sister but after a few seconds he reclines more to the thought that he might be sleeping. He turns to them again and then nods to acknowledge Laurel as she gulps, nodding back…soft but acknowledging. He opts to sit beside Gabriel, now facing the family with a questionary eye. The devil and the healer. Feels like judgment day. “Hi, Laurel, do you know who I am?” he leans forward after getting a reassuring nod from Gabriel. Laurel nods.