Donatello 2012 Novels & Stories

He said and they all sighed. “The next person is Donatallo Dallarosa.” He said and Adam nodded “Donatello harbors a strong grudge against Rielle.” He said “What happened with him?” Xander asked “I know the story well and will tell you.” Adam-said “Donatello and Kale both planned to steal Ms.Romano’s wealth and she found out, She hired me to get some dirt about Donatello of which i did and she used it against him but not before making him sign all his properties over to her. She got him arrested and convicted for the crime he committed and threw his entire family out on the streets. Donatello currently is an inmate in jail.” He said and Xander shook his head “Oh boy, She did him crazy.” He co

I couldn’t help but remember Donatello telling me that he believed that he saw him somewhere, and hearing what Sienna was telling me, I couldn’t help but believe that he was indeed using magic. Donatello was not the type to forget who a person was. If anything, he was almost always very accurate when it came to his memory of faces. It was one of the reasons why he was dangerous when angered. He was not a man to be messed with nor was he the type to allow random mistakes to just slide. If anything, he would be sure to make those who hurt him or his loved ones pay if he simply caught their scent.

" Less than twelve hours after your wedding, and your wife is already running off, I have to hand it to you man, you're a natural." Enzo says as we both watch the footage of my little wife jogging out of my house. My little wife, it felt so natural to think it, but it wasn't exactly something I was happy about. Donatello blackmailing my family into taking not just one, but two of his daughters into the family was the sneakiest thing the crazy man has been able to do since I knew him, and I had to hand it to him, he really laid out his cards well, I was impressed.

The night was filled with performances, laughter, and celebration. The gift-giving ceremony was a highlight of the evening. The Italian Mafias, La Famiglia De Lucas, gifted Donatella a beautiful frame with a photo of her, while the Morozov family presented her with a brand-new Bugatti. The Pakhan, Sergei Morozov, gifted her a stunning diamond necklace from the 80s, crafted in a vintage London style. Donatella's eyes welled up with tears as she thanked her loved ones for their thoughtful gifts.

I think I just saw someone who looked exactly like Donatello! I stopped in my tracks. I stood there, scanning the entire departure hall. Crowds of people, but no familiar face. I clutched my phone. Donatello's wound had just healed. Last week, the doctor said he needed at least another month of rest, no long-distance travel. He couldn't be here. Chloe must have been mistaken. I told myself that. But just in case, I dialed Marcus's number. "Marcus," I said, getting straight to the point. "Where's Donatello right now?"

Adriano dropped in a crouch in front of a smirking Donatello. There was anticipation and anxiety thick in air, as everyone else held their breath waiting for the next move of their Don. " What makes you think that I don't have a backup plan too, Donatello?" there was a mocking edge to Adriano's tone as cocked his head to the side. Donatello furrowed his brow as Adriano gripped his left wrist hard, before unstrapping his nonno's watch.

He releases her with a courteous nod to the crowd, as though they’ve simply finished an innocent dance, and offers his arm. Camille takes it with fingers that shake. They drift toward the west wing where the château’s private collection is on display tonight old masters, erotic bronzes, a few modern pieces so explicit they’re kept behind velvet ropes. Fewer guests here. Lucien stops in front of a small Fragonard, a courtesan sprawled on a swing, skirts flying up to reveal bare thighs and a knowing smile. He turns the remote in his palm like a coin trick. Level six.

Two names came to mind instantly. The first was Vincenzo Carbone. A rat with a face that always looked like it needed a punch. They had grown up in the same circles, attended the same expensive schools where boys were trained to become dangerous men. Vincenzo had always wanted what Dante had. Power. Control. Respect. But no matter how hard he tried, he could never get close to it. So he settled for petty games and cheap shots. The type of man who would send photos instead of bullets because he liked the slow burn.

The doors opened before I could respond. The room was set up like an old gentleman's club, all dark wood and leather chairs. Vittorio Santoro sat at the head of the table like he owned it. Maybe he thought he did. Gray streaked his dark hair but he still looked solid and dangerous. His oldest son Nico stood behind him with arms crossed, the kind of man who enjoyed violence for its own sake.