Dante Russo Novels & Stories

I had faith that Dane could and would. The man chuckled once more and remarked, “If you believe so.” He shook his head while still laughing and added, “He was unable to rescue Selena. How will he save you?” Then he slapped my ass. I let out a yelp, and fury burned through me. He was the one who killed Dane’s mate. “You bastard!” I sent a blow on the side of his head with all my strength, causing us to lose our balance and fall onto the cold forest floor.

He murmurs before pecking on my lips one last time before the dance continues. Take away his perversity and Dante Russo is an excellent dancer. Which I had already understood when I watched him dance with his friends. We didn't stop at our first dance. We danced to plenty other numbers while the rest of the guests joined. I even danced with Miller who told me Dante actually has a crush on me. I doubt Miller knows what is actually going on in his friend's mind. I plan to decipher that out soon. "Okay, that's enough dancing." Dante pulls me away from my Dadda who was enjoying another dance with me.

As the car drove toward the airport, I could only hope that everything was fine but the worry in my heart was growing bigger and bigger with every mile. What was going on? Why the sudden trip? The car drove right onto the airport tarmac. We did not go to the normal terminal we drove straight to where the private jets were. Marco stopped the car next to a huge, beautiful white jet on the side, in big, bold letters, were the initials DR. Dante Russo. I just stared. My mouth was probably hanging open I knew Dante was rich very rich if I just say but this... this was something else. My God, how loaded is Dante Russo? How much money

She remained seated, scrolling through her phone. Silence stretched. “What name?” she asked, placing her phone on her lap. Dante sat down. “Mario Rossi.” “What do you want to know about the new congressman of the trade office?” she smirked. His gaze narrowed. “So you know him.” “He cut off your shipments heading for France and Albania,” she said, crossing one leg over the other. “He isn’t someone to mess with. He’s a retired army officer, knows little about politics, doesn’t play by the rules, and works perfectly well with Interpol to split gains from seized shipments if needed.”

He barked and I reached out to take the phone from him. Dante's hands held my waist as he continued speaking. "Dante Russo," Dante said flatly, an unexpected silence from the other end of the phone. “Is this some kind of joke? Dante Russo? I mean, I heard the press rumors, but I know it’s not going to be possible—he’s way past your league!” Luca barked, the panic and disbelief bleeding through every word. “Impossible?” Dante’s voice dropped lower, sharper, a predator closing in. “No, Luca. It’s not impossible. It’s reality. And you are now very deep in a problem you don’t even understand.”

There was an archway in the center, covered in white flowers, so stunning I almost forgot that I was being dragged into whatever the hell this was. Almost. My chest constricted as I looked toward the horizon. The sun was dipping, painting the sky in shades of crimson and gold. And then— He was there. Dante Russo. He stepped out of the shadows like he owned the world, and maybe he did. The last bit of sunlight hit him, teasing across the sharp angles of his face, glinting off the black tux that clung to him like sin. No tie tonight — his collar open just enough to reveal the hint of that scar etched down his neck. His black hair was perfectly groomed, not a hai

Dante crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, close enough that I could see the tension in his shoulders, the weight he seemed to be carrying into every word before he even spoke it. He told me who he was. Not the wounded stranger who'd stumbled into my barn with a gunshot wound and a story I'd been foolish enough to believe. My real name is Dante Russo. I was born into a world where violence wasn't something you escaped. It was something you learned to survive. My family is powerful, but that power came with enemies, blood, and responsibilities I never asked for.”

Alpha Damien, the great and prestigious Alpha of the red moon pack and one of the strongest, leading billionaires and businessmen of all time, stood right at the door of the kitchen, from which Courtney had just left. His cold gaze, glazed against the body of that woman and in comprehensive pain followed by rage, overwhelmed him. He wanted to just shred her into pieces. Ariel immediately cringed, knowing absolutely what it felt like to be close to him. It was like death, the hand of death clutching her, clawing at her and choking her. But, instead of it taking her, it toiled with her.

( Take her to the boss) Isabella soon began panicking as she would recognize that language from anywhere the man was speaking in Italian and this boss he was speaking off must have been their Mafia's boss. She tried to pull away from him, she went as far as trying to bit him but the man chuckled as he pulled his hand away just in time. "Fiesty slut non è lei quello che non pagherei per essere quella che scopa questa figa vergine" (Fiesty slut isn't she what I wouldn't pay to be the one fucking this virgin pussy) the man said cruelly.

_Dominic “What is it, spill it out,” I said impatiently. “Boss, we have company,” Vini said and we both got up from our respective chairs. The man I was with started to walk towards the back window and looked out. “I never got your name,” I said as soon as he turned and looked around. “Nikolai, but you can call me Nic,” he said, looking between me and Vini. Nikolai. He was Russian, but even as I searched in the hazy compartments of my brain, there was no Nikolai.