Donny Donowitz Novels & Stories

To repay Victor for saving my life, I gave up a brilliant career as one of America's finest neurosurgeons and willingly became his trophy wife. For seven years, Victor lavished money on me and treated me with bone-deep tenderness. Yet his obsessive rules suffocated me. Every other week, I had to subject my scalp to agonizing bleach treatments to keep my hair icy platinum. I had to bathe in a discontinued Venetian white iris perfume. And I had to wear a fake beauty mark at the corner of my right eye. I once mistook it all for the obsessive devotion of a Mafia Don. Then, on the eve of our wedding of the century, I found a wall covered with portraits of another woman. The measurements of my gow

"The traitor is alleged to have killed the Don's mother. The Don believed his mouth was killed by her father, so he is probably seeking revenge for the death of his mother. " Draven muttered, turning around to return back to his car. His business at the gala was done, he was not a social person and did not see the reason or importance of socializing, so he preferred to go back to his hotel room and enjoy some quiet time. "Does that mean, the mother of the Don was really killed by Mr. Vale? Isn't that what he is called?" His assistant muttered and Draven hummed, confirming the fact that his assistant was on the right track.

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.

I breathed out a sigh of relief when we walked back into the living room and saw no one, but just then, I heard the sound of footsteps, mixed with heavy voices, so I hurriedly sat down and dragged Kelly with me. We adjusted ourselves to make it seem like we were watching the TV all along, a soda in my hand as I tried not to throw up the drink I was forcing down to ease my nerves. 'I was still pretty shaken from what I saw, so what if Don Luciano could read something amiss with my expression?' I pondered and seriously hoped that was not the case. "Hi ladies, I hope you are enjoying yourselves?" Don Luciano asked with his usual grin as he walked into the room.

"I've eaten some, just not a lot. I have been getting little dizzy spells but my emotions are all haywire. I'm fine though. I'll be sure to eat some more fruits and protein." He scratched his chin thinking. "Do you think maybe, you could be pregnant?" My mouth dropped open. "Absolutely not! You gave me pills the other week, remember." "I do. I also recall Don stating he hasn't been wearing a condom at his last checkup. Birth control isn't 100% effective." "Ew! Why would he tell you that? And no, I'm not pregnant. Life can't be that f*cking cruel." "I actually didn't need to know. He wrote it proudly on his form. I won't repeat what it said though. Don is a... complicated man. I know he shows

“You—you are Don Dante Romano?!” “In the flesh.” I knew him. I definitely knew him. Hell, any Italian person who has the barest connection with the underground world would know him. Youngest Don in history. This man became a don at age fourteen. At age fourteen I was having sleepovers, painting my nails, beheading my Barbie dolls, and doing weird makeups with my mother, while he was going around, shooting, killing, and selling hard drugs and bizarre things. Marriage with him was like selling myself to the devil.

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!"

He exchanges a knowing glance with his gang members, and he says, "We know what this is about then. We will find her. The Tiffany girl, have you reached her? The bitch claims she is in New York and has seriously denied the allegations. Donny draws a smoke from the cigar that is pinned between his fingers. "We have to plan ourselves properly... We have all been wronged by Vicktor in the past; this is our chance to bring him down." Donny looks over everyone that's sitting on my couch. "And he won't even see it coming." One of the men with messy red hair responds as he blows smoke through his nostril. "But how do you infuriate his camp? He has top security." A punk lady that looks like street t

The players around the table exchanged uneasy glances, sensing the desperation emanating from Carlos like a palpable force. The Pit Boss's gaze narrowed as he scrutinized the stacks of cash, his eyes searching for any sign of its origin. "Where did you get this money, Carlos?" he asked, his voice laced with suspicion. Carlos hesitated, knowing he couldn't reveal the truth. "I...I earned it. From a job." The Pit Boss raised an eyebrow. "A job that pays this well? I think you're hiding something, Carlos. And I always find out the truth."