Dante Russo Novels & Stories

Piper. I gape at him, caught off guard by the arrogance lacing his words. “No,” I snap, recovering. “The CEO got me this dress. Who the hell is Santa anyway? I’ve never heard of such a name.” His grin falters just a little, but he quickly recovers, his eyes dancing with amusement. “Santa,” he repeats, his tone dripping with mockery, “is an Alpha who can grant your every wish. But I suppose if you’d rather believe it was the CEO…”

"Six men who grew up in my shadow, who ate from my plate, and not one of them noticed Enzo's proxy leaks. Not one of them had the eyes to see the cancer eating my logistics lines." Dante Rossi stood exactly three paces from the edge of the desk, perfectly centered within the frame of the tall arched windows. He was an unyielding obelisk of tactical black, his arms crossed over his chest, his massive shoulders completely blocking the view of the western terrace. His face remained an absolute, terrifying void—a block of carved granite that had witnessed the execution of an underboss without a single micro-expression of human emotion.

The man cut the engine, raised both hands—empty—and called across the water. “Luca Marino! I come alone. No weapons. I just need five minutes.” His voice carried—older, accented, familiar in a way that made my skin crawl. Alessio Greco. Dante’s cousin. The man who’d once tried to take everything—position, power, me. Exiled after Vienna. Presumed dead or vanished. Apparently neither. Rocco’s hand went to the concealed pistol at his back. Dante stepped in front of me—instinct.

Rasmus lightly shook his head in negative. "You think you'll get a..away after killing me?" Richard spoke with difficulty as he wheezed for air. Rasmus paid no heed to him. His sole attention was on Catherine. "You're giving him an easy death. I have prepared something special for him." Rasmus said as his eyes darted towards the other door which opened and a huge guy emerged out of it. He was a black guy. Tall and all muscular. He looked scary with a scar running from his eyebrow to his jaw.

She wondered if she would have liked her. ‘You look like her,’ Damian said quietly. ‘When you’re angry.’ That broke something in her. She turned away sharply, pacing again. ‘My squad is still out there,’ she said, forcing her mind back to the present. ‘Alex. Becca. Wyatt. They’re walking into a trap.’ ‘Not if Russo has anything to say about it,’ Damian replied. She froze. ‘What do you mean?’ Before he could answer, the door opened. Don Russo entered without ceremony, dressed impeccably as always, his presence filling the room without effort. He looked from Damian to Sofia, reading the tension like a seasoned tactician.

“To those who doubted me, consider this my resurrection.” Leo stood beside her, expression unreadable, but I saw it, the cold confidence, the power. Behind them was a logo I recognized too well. Lorenzo’s symbol, reborn, rebranded. Marco burst back into the room, eyes wide. “Dante, you need to see this—” “I’m already watching,” I said quietly, my pulse pounding. Vanessa leaned closer to the mic, smiling into the camera. “To my dearest Carina Russo and Dante Vale… thank you for the fire that forged us.”

The touch sent electricity racing up my spine, and my wolf went absolutely feral. MATE! No. No, no, no— I spun around and looked up into molten gold eyes that I'd seen every night in my nightmares for three years. Dante Russo stood before me in a three-piece black suit that probably cost more than I made in a year. He'd gotten bigger. More dangerous. Tattoos I didn't recognize crept up his neck, and there was a new scar cutting through his left eyebrow. But those eyes—those eyes were the same.

I said fearfully. “On the contrary, it makes all the sense in the world; you were his before you were Alessandro's,” Dara said, and I denied it in disbelief. “He wants to reclaim what was stolen from him; allying with Dante Russo was a means to get to you.” The mention of Dante Russo's name sent a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room. The room fell into a sepulchral silence, broken only by the soft tinkling of tea on Loreta's tray. Alessandro's face had hardened, his eyes like steel. Luca was livid, his knuckles white.

I opened the first page. The Roma's are a very rich and influential people in the whole of italy, they are half America and half italian, there own the biggest Wine producing company here in italy and have more company's, the Roma's Only heir Dante Roma born on the 14 of December 1990 is the only surviving member of the family and is the CEO of over 7 big product company and industries, well known and influential. I paused. Dante is an orphan? He doesn't have a family, maybe that's why he's so mean. I bet he doesn’t knows what being a family guy is.

"Dante Russo. The pleasure is all mine." There was the mockery again, subtle but cutting. Dante Russo. CEO of the Russo Group, Fortune 500 legend, and the man who'd created such a buzz at the Frederick Wildlife Trust gala three nights ago. He wasn't just an eligible bachelor; he was the bachelor. The elusive billionaire every woman wanted and no one could get. He was thirty-six years old, famously married to his work, and up until now, showed no intention of giving up his bachelor lifestyle. Why, then, would Dante Russo of all people agree to an arranged marriage?