Donatello 2012 Novels & Stories

The Don stood still for a moment, his sharp eyes locked on his opponent, the silence between them thick with promise. Then, with deliberate calm, he peeled off his shirt, exposing his raw masculine energy. From her uncomfortable position on the floor, Tatjana stared, transfixed. She wanted to sigh, to swoon over him, at this piece of carved manliness… rippling muscles, flat board abs… The Assassin’s large hand was around her throat, but she was unaware of anything but the Alpha male presence of Lucien Delano.

I glanced down at him as Dimitri remedied me with his gaze before tenderly licking the region above my breast, which caused me to shudder and hastily nod in acknowledgement to his previous question. “Use your words Rena.” Dimitri grazed his teeth over the flesh of my breast and I whimpered out a faint yes in response. “Bene, lo stavo aspettando da molto tempo, cazzo.” (Good I’ve been waiting to this for a very fucking long time.) Dimitri gently withdrew off of me before ripping my clothing in half and tossing it to the ground, leaving me wearing nothing but my bra and underwear. I shyly reddened and tried to cover my body from him.

The dominance in his eyes made my breathing hitch, and his amused eyebrow raised at my reaction. "Ian will also be coming with us in case anything goes wrong, which it won't because I'm the best" He smiled proudly with a playful glint in his eye, and I chuckled, but his big smile soon faded, turning into a slight smirk. "You look so pretty" He admitted. "Going soft on me again Mr. Russo?" I teased, running my hands all over his chest, tracing the tattoos that were visible through his shirt. A few buttons were undone, and a tattoo peaked out that said 'sedurre e distruggere' Written in cursive.

the manager spoke out, making everyone look towards him, who was looking at Elea with a gentle smile. “May I, Mr. Salvino? We have something very special which we would like to show you and your family,” the manager asked for his approval. Luka passed him a nod and then he got up on his feet. The manager of the mall signalled one of the staff, who instantly brought a medium size box to them. “It's our latest edition which we are going to launch next week,” the manager uttered and opened the box. Esme saw three bracelets in that box. They all looked the same. Two for adults and one for a kid.

I don't care if anyone hears me. I rip open the door and storm out into the hallway, practically snarling with rage. My boots slap against the floor like they might be the only thing keeping me grounded. And then there’s a face. It's a goddamn blur at first. A round, unrecognizable blob of a face. But the clothes.. those fucking clothes I know them. I know this shit. This was Donatello, my consigliere. I could smell the bastard’s cologne from a mile away.

I try to take care of her at work and outside work, her husband does everything he can to keep her out of trouble. Norah pouts, and I pull her out of the kitchen until we're in a safe, quiet zone. She shows me a small vile wrapped in a silky napkin, watching with wide eyes to see my reaction. "What the hell is that?" I have to ask. She grins. "It's another poison to add to my collection. I finally got the belladonna extract," she explains. "Are you crazy?" I whisper-shout, looking around. "This is a restaurant! You have to stop bringing them here!"

I watched them and tried not to count how many exits were behind me. A shadow fell across my lap. “Elena.” I turned. Dante Moretti stood there holding two glasses—champagne in one hand, a Negroni in the other. His smile was oil on water. My stomach lurched. I remembered how he looked at me at the auction—I remembered the way his gaze had crawled over my skin while the auctioneer counted the money. I remembered the masquerade, the way Enzo had almost snapped his wrist for breathing too close. And now here he was again, like a cockroach that refused to die.

The man on the chair immediately starts to shake and I bit back my disgust when I notice he wets himself. Enzo sighs, shaking his head. “That’s the fourth time in thirty minutes.” The man in question sobs, although it is muffled because of the gag in his mouth. “What have you gotten so far?” “A new Monterro is in charge of our dealings. It’s the name I am looking for.” I take in the man, noting Enzo had already removed five of his fingers and from the way his legs were bent, Enzo had broken his knees too. “He is afraid of you. When I mentioned your name, he wet himself. And he did so again when you walked in.”

It was a conquest, suspended between death and a pleasure so sharp it felt like pain. "You're mine, Nora," he said, biting my neck as he came. Ding. The sound of the shop's bell snapped me back to the present. I looked up. A woman was standing in the doorway. Bianca Torrino. She wore a white Valentino dress, a pearl necklace gleaming under the lights. She wasn't here to buy art. I could see it in her eyes. She was here to mark her territory. "So this is Damon's little painter?" she said, looking me up and down like I was a piece of furniture. "I hear you're good at fixing old things."

Victor's point of view. I leaned back in my chair, the cold blade of the knife glinting under the dim light as I peeled an apple with deliberate precision. My focus wasn’t on the fruit, though. It was on the sniveling mess dangling over the edge of the room, blood dripping from his swollen face. Mateo's voice broke the tense silence, his desperate pleas ringing out. "Please! Please, I’m sorry I betrayed you, Don! It wasn’t intentional!"