Donny Donowitz Novels & Stories

One voice cut through the others like a blade. “…the shipment routes are compromised. If Enzo thinks he can run his own plays behind my back, he’s more stupid than I gave him credit for.” My stomach dropped. That voice. Deep, controlled, laced with quiet fury. I’d only heard it a handful of times—at family dinners Enzo dragged me to, always from across the room. Dante Moretti. Enzo’s father. The Don. I froze, glass halfway to my lips again. What the hell was he doing here? Enzo said this was our night. Private.

“Mr. Donovan, can you confirm that Victor LaSalle orchestrated the capture and torture of Ariana Vanderbilt?” Donovan nodded, his voice steady. “Yes, he did. I was there. I saw everything. Odette had contracted him to do the job”. The defense team, led by a slick attorney named Mark Renner, attempted to undermine Donovan's credibility. “Mr. Donovan, you have a criminal record yourself, do you not?” Donovan's jaw tightened. “Yes, but that doesn't change what I saw.” Renner smirked. “Isn't it possible you're lying to save your own skin?”

“You’re wasting your time, uccellina. You won’t find my sins in a nightstand. Try my office.” The air rushes out of my lungs. He isn't angry. My shoulders sag with relief. “Clearly. Because the only scandal I found is this.” Emboldened, I pull open the middle drawer and pick up the stash of mints. It explains so much as to why his breath always carries this refreshing scent, even first thing in the morning. Nero frowns, a flicker of annoyance dancing on his feature. "Put it back." A mischievous smile tugs at my lips, and I know I shouldn't push him, but seeing his reaction is too tempting to resist. "Seriously? Who would have thought the big, bad Don had a sweet tooth?"

Jake grinned as he headed to Buzzer’s table, where five men were seated. “What can I get you, handsome?” “Bottle of water,” Jake said and pulled out the chair to sit down. “Glad you could make it, Wrath,” Buzzer said. Jake grinned, his smile putting Buzzer at ease as a few other men greeted him as well. A Prospect sat down on Jake’s other side. The man was well over six feet and probably close to 350 pounds. His face was scarred and tattoos adorned his knuckles. “This is Donnie. He recently retired from some underground fighting club,” Buzzer said.

And Luca Moretti had no intention of dying anytime soon. As he stepped into the cool night air, he straightened his shoulders and set his jaw. Time to put on the mask of the charming businessman, to hide the ruthless don that lurked beneath. It was a dance he'd perfected over the years, but tonight, for reasons he couldn't quite pinpoint, it felt more suffocating than ever. Little did he know, across town, a fiery redhead was burning the midnight oil, poring over documents that would soon turn his carefully constructed world upside down. The game was about to change, and Luca Moretti had no idea what was coming for him.

“Do you think catching Ronan Lombardi will actually give us the peace we’re looking for?” I knew it was a long shot, but I wanted to hear what he thought. Renzo met my eyes through the rearview mirror. Wilfred coughed awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable with the question. “Honestly, Ma’am,” Renzo said with a shrug, “no. With you being a Moretti and Marco running the show, peace isn’t really on the table.” I expected that answer, but it still hit hard. I guess I’d been holding onto the hope that maybe, just maybe, this would be the end of it.

Winston managed to mutter before completely going unconscious. The Don still had no clue on what was going on and so he reached for his own phone to double check that everything was fine. He had business empire that was spread across more than five continents and got phone calls every now and then. So, before arriving at the airport, Quisito decided to put his phone on vibration mode out of respect towards Winston, who was a senior leader. But this time, accidentally, he put the phone on silent mode. And he realized that it was a grave mistake when he saw that he had more than 100 missed calls and 70 messages. Even during the busiest day, he barely got 30 calls in half an hour.

he nagged. “But you still try,” he said in a mocking tone. Chad pushed his hand away then stood up by himself, “Dony, help me wipe the smirk off this bastard’s face would you?” Donovan was in deep thought, he couldn’t hear a word from Chad. “Dony, Dony!” he called out. Donovan snapped back into the present. “Done already?” he said. “We’ve been at this for hours,” he lied. “Really?” Donovan said surprised, checking his wrist-watch.

Both of them chatted endlessly over Leo’s collection of vehicles, and the chef allowed the boy to start his Porsche and rev up the engine. Leo asked Doc’s permission to take Donny out for a joy ride along the docks, while Doc tended to his patient. Donny seemed to have grown in the couple months it had been since they’d last saw him. He now towered above Amber and was growing out his blonde curls. He wore it in a man bun which he pulled off well. He would be entering his senior year in the fall and Amber was sure the girls went crazy over him. Donny had given them a laugh when he announced he and his girlfriend had a mutual separation because of irreconcilable differences.

Hell, Amber herself had masturbated to his pictures many times before she ever set foot into his penthouse and got to experience the real fucking thing. “I’m Grayson Godwin. Thanks for you and your family helping my friend Leo. I greatly appreciate it. And if there is anything I can do for you in return, please let me know.” Donovan was easy on the eyes himself and had a nice collection of muscles peeking out his t-shirt. His blond curly hair skimmed his shoulders and his eyes were grey that pretty kind rarely achieved naturally, but often through contacts. He also had impressive teeth for someone born in a ghetto with limited access to dentists.