Dominick Carisi Novels & Stories

A figure leaned against a sleek black Maserati and a thick cigarette burned between his fingers while he watched me with the kind of scrutiny that usually made weaker people wither. I recognized him at first glance. He was Domenico Salvatore, the Fourth Capo of the Salvatore family. He hadn’t changed much— he was tall, dark and still exuding that effortless Sicilian arrogance. He was wearing a tailored suit that fitted like a second skin and he looked at me the way a predator studies a rival that had stepped into its hunting ground. I let him look and let him wonder why I was here. I could bet he was speculating if it was because my father was dying.

he said, taking a seat. Dominic carried himself with the authority of a man born to lead. His presence demanded respect in any room, the kind of weight that made lesser men sit straighter. He fit the role of Don better than Marco ever would. But this wasn’t his fucking city. And in my territory, there was only one man at the head of the table. Me. “Fantastic,” I drawled, rising to pour three glasses of whiskey. Carlos took two and handed one to Dominic. “Don’t tell me you’re not happy to see me,” Dominic smirked.

“Can you send Orazio my way? I need to work on a healthy negotiation with the Rossis.” “Rossis?” Dom’s eyes widened. “Of Chicago Outfit?” Seeing me nod, he pressed his brows. “I told you their war can affect us, Adonis. We already have enough on our plates. We cannot afford to be a part of someone else’s battle.” “I know what I’m doing, Domenico. The De Lucas have a good relationship with the Rossis, so I don’t see why we can’t do the same.”

she blurted, “let’s pretend we are mates and get married. I won’t stop you from your love affairs. I just need my parents off my case” Carrisa lets out a little sigh as she pressed back against the chair. She looked frustrated, a clear contrast to the woman who had earlier walked in. I was about to talk when my phone buzzed and Dominick’s name popped up. A small smile formed over my lips. I thought he was upset yet he was calling. The thought of it made my smile widen the more. Women were the ones who threw tantrums but Dominick? He was something else all together—really exciting.

The subscriber list pinged open. There he was. Robert W. Hartwell. Age: 47. Occupation: Investment banker. Known usernames: ObeyMeAlpha, HumbledDaddy86, and, most damningly, DevotedToDomica. Priscilla’s father. Dominique stared at the screen, lips parting slowly into a smile so subtle it barely moved her face. “Bingo.” The next morning, school buzzed with rumors about Dominique’s dethroning. Whispers floated through lockers and bleachers like glitter laced with blood.

I love him not only because he was the second person who accepted me for who I am not in front of everyone, but because I needed him. People as good as Charlie were worth fighting for. I am willing to fight for this love even if it costs me a fortune. "Don't worry, everything will be fine soon, Dominick. Considering the mindset of our generation, it would be easier for the chairman to understand things better." *** Unable to hold my resentment, I went to another nightclub and got wasted. Similar to Charlie, I surrounded myself with a bunch of naked men. "Ladies and gentlemen! My name is Dominick Roy de Guzman, and I'm pretty sure most of you know me as the CEO of DG Groups and Companies. I a

"I am calm." Valeria studied him for a second before offering a faint, unconvinced smile. "You don't look calm." For the first time, Dominic realized she was right. His breathing remained steady, and his expression betrayed nothing. Centuries of discipline had taught him to conceal every emotion. Yet something deep inside him refused to settle. Valeria glanced toward the nearby buildings. "Maybe she went to the washroom." Dominic considered the possibility. It was reasonable. It should have been enough. Yet the strange feeling lingering at the edge of his senses refused to disappear.

Before I can protest, Dominique whisks me away to a lavish dressing room, her nimble fingers already rifling through a rack of decadent gowns and lingerie. Dominique tsks and tuts as she examines my body, jotting down measurements and muttering under her breath. "Oui, oui, I know exactly what will suit you." She flashes me a dazzling smile. "Trust me, Miss Carissa, when I'm done with you, every man in that room will be utterly captivated." Apparently, he was hosting a party in his mansion for his stupid mafia associates. I hate feeling like Nico's plaything, but there's a part of me that can't help but be curious about this transformation.

Luciana couldn't help but think he looked like an older anime character - handsome and captivating. "Such a beautiful name for a beautiful damsel," he chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I am—" he began, but Antonio cut him off. "That's okay, Uncle. I'll take it from here," Antonio said curtly, his eyes flashing with annoyance. He turned to Luciana and said, “it seems you’re the only person who haven’t met him. This is Domenico. He is my uncle.” Domenico smiled. "People call me 'The Butcher,'" he said, his voice dripping with menace. Antonio dropped his fork, as Viktor turned to him.