Romans & histoires Donny Donowitz

Donald woke up at 3am and went to the library. He sat down and went through the company's record, growth, stocks and previous trade partners. He went through the list of employees, hired and sacked. He smiled when he came across a familiar name. Christopher. Christopher was his first personal assistant and secretary. He was more than an employee, he was a brother. Unfortunately, Christopher decided to emback on monastery. He became a monk.

The man I’d sent stood nervously nearby. I looked at him. “You did well,” I said. He blinked. “Don?” “You kept her alive. You called me. You stayed.” He nodded quickly, relief flooding his face. “But find that car,” I added. My voice was sharp now. Cold. “Find it. Find who was inside. Find who sent it.” He nodded again. “Yes, Don.” Dante leaned against the wall. “If it was Giovanni, we’ll know soon enough.” Santino crossed his arms. “And if it wasn’t, we’ll know too.”

Don Daniels was a man who liked to surround himself with classy and sophisticated women. Dawn had only known the polished and vicious side of women growing up all his life. They might be soft and demure on the outside, but there were also thorns or poisoned barbs behind those pretty smiles. One could never be too careful around women as they have the ability to disarm a man.

Donovan is into celebrity PR right? "Isn't that right, Don?" Dohana asked as soon as she picked up on Jake's sigh. "Oh! Yes," Donovan said with a grin, "I was just telling Dohana how brilliant she was to undertake this step at this crucial stage, you know? Strike the iron while it's still hot." "Oh!" Jakes suspicion calmed and his heart began to beat in a normal rythm.

After getting remarried, I put my husband, Steven Graham, on the family's service roster at a rate of ten thousand dollars an hour. His childhood sweetheart, Julie Ziegler, heard about it and signed a long-term contract without a second thought. Four months later, the balance in my offshore account had climbed to nearly a million dollars. On our wedding anniversary, Steven was supposed to spend the day with me. Then Julie called. Her dog had suddenly gotten sick, and she asked him to go to her. I didn't get angry. I simply sent her an encrypted message. [Don't forget to transfer the payment on time. Late fees will be charged separately.] Later, when I had an attack of appendicitis, St

Just as he was about to be dragged away, he shouted desperately to Mark, "Don Vittorino, please believe me! It really was her! She wanted to frame the Donna! I can testify!" At that moment, Christopher suddenly stepped forward, his gaze complicated as he looked at me. "It's indeed possible that Lina… set the Donna up."

This was the Don—cold, calculating, ruthless in his control. A soft knock interrupted her spiraling thoughts. "Mrs. Valentino?" A deep voice came through the door. "I'm Lorenzo Ricci. Mr. Valentino assigned me to your security detail. May I come in?" Isabella wanted to scream at him to go away, to tell Dante to shove his security protocols. But what good would that do? He'd made it clear this wasn't optional. "Come in," she called, her voice hollow. The door opened to reveal a mountain of a man—easily six-foot-five with a military bearing and sharp hazel eyes that assessed the room in seconds. His suit was expertly tailored but couldn't quite hide the weapons she was sure he carried.

He stood up, rounding his desk to where she stood facing straight forward. “There's a man in Mexico city. A very powerful man that threatens my position as the top worldwide.” His voice lowers to almost a whisper, the strong breathy smell of toba**o fanning her face. “Don Antonio Alvarez. You will infiltrate his mansion and assassinate him quietly. No mistakes.” Her head shot up. “Another don?” Darius’ brow lifted slightly. “Are you perhaps hesitant right now?” His voice dipped lethally. “I'm not,” Alina said quickly.

“The guy was tall, and reed thin... he looked like he was desperate, almost like a character from a Tim Burton animated movie...” “Ah, yes.” Leslie smiled and leaned back. “That’s Stanley Elgin alright... hired two weeks ago to assist our curator. Didn’t take him for a thief, though I had my reservations... ah, Donny can be so trusting sometimes.” “Does he collect a lot of these kinds of things?” “Who?” The lawyer looked at her momentarily bemused. “Oh, you mean Donny... yes, he does, from all over... especially when he’s out on location shooting for his films.”

“You’re impossible.” “I know. And I’m also psychic. You are so seeing someone.” I hesitated. Just a second too long. His grin widened like a cartoon villain. “Spill it.” “No.” “Please.” “No!” Donny huffed dramatically and leaned back on his elbows, eyes narrowed at the sky. “Fine. Don’t tell me. I’ll just make it worse in my head. You’re probably eloping with a Russian spy who feeds you raw fish and makes you wear a bear hat.”