Giacomo Gianniotti Height Novels & Stories

I ask. She turns around and points to where he's standing with Gianni and another man, who is as gorgeous as Alessio—even more so. In a dark red shirt and black pants that seemed to be wrapped around his masculinity perfectly, the most noticeable thing was the scar running down the right side of his brow. The word attractive sounds so unfit when describing him, he's much more than that. Standing between Alessio and that man Gianni seemed—forgive me mother—ugly and fat. He doesn't even reach the shoulders of both the men he stood with and completely out of shape with his belly struggling against the material of his shirt.

"He's not here, he's gone out." "Right..." "Hey, don't mock. I warn you, my husband is almost two meters tall and has a very bad temper when he gets angry." "Tell him I'm not afraid, I have a bad temper too." "Máximo, leave me alone or I'll have to tell him," she said, and hung up. Giovanni's voice behind her startled her. "An admirer?" She tried to detect annoyance in his voice, but it wasn't there, and she didn't like the feeling it gave her.

“He’s okay.” Shannon, a traditional blond with green eyes, is also 6 feet tall with a fairly muscular body. So I could say he’s attractive. Some would say very attractive. Including ninety percent of the women in the office who spent the last week gawking at him every chance they got. Still, I only see Tes. Every other man compared to him is nothing. “I bet you would jump his bones if Gio—” Her eyes suddenly go wide, and I know Tes is behind me. I turn slightly and see that he has Gianno in his hands.

My eyes settle on the grand staircase, every sound dies down as the king of the mafia world steps into view. Marcello Moretti. I hug my empty tray for comfort, his presence alone creeps fear inside you. He stands at a height of 6 feet, his salt and pepper hair give him a charm like no other, the hard lines of age at the corner of his dark brown eyes show the years he has spent in this unforgiving world. His thin lips are set in a straight line, his face has a natural stone cold expression just like his stone cold heart. He rules this world with an iron fist. He is 62, but looks like in his late 40s, he is wearing a dark suit over his fit body, around his left arm is tucked in his wife Giulia

Nicolas looks at me sideways, his tone suggestive, making me blush, "Well, the restaurant isn't far from here, if you're willing to join me for lunch." "Sure," I reply immediately, "I don't think I'm dressed appropriately for a business lunch, but lead the way, captain." "You're always adequate, snowflake," he flashes his dazzling smile, as I align myself to match his strides. He's easily much faster than me due to his height, 1.93 meters since the last time we saw each other, but today he seems much taller. How is that possible? I don't know.

Disgusting. “Looks like she tried to escape” whispers another voice, his jaw tight as I turn to look at him. Angelo. One of my associates as well an heir to the Manocchino family, his brother Antonio now next to him. Their emerald, green eyes, blonde hair and muscled frame, standing 6’4 in height. My brother Lucia next to them, his blue eyes and black hair framing his face, his frame as well as mine muscled and quite tall, 6’4 to be exact.

Now all was left was Gianni’s version of events how worse could this fucked up family really get? Now sitting in the lounge Gianni sat opposite her, a still very attractive almost sixty year old Italian man he had aged well considering his role in the Mafia. He’d gave up his status as the Mafia king when Metteo had turned twenty one as he was in no rush to leave education.

Giovanni joked, looking up at Gianna who was taller, though not necessarily bigger. Gianna had always been on the thin side, even if she wasn’t exceptionally so, and Giovanni was starting to fill out. He’d been going to the gym for frequently, doing more cardio, and he was building muscle mass, even if it didn’t look that way from most of the clothing he wore. “At least you’re not as short as Rio,” Gianna pointed out. Giovanni rocked back on his feet. “Okay. Fair point.” He laughed a little and then advised, “But don’t let him hear you talking about his height. He’s a little touchy on the subject. Something about being underestimated because of it.”

Gianna Lynn is 5'3 in height, slim, and alabaster white with brown eyes and coffee-brown hair that she loves dying green. She's an excellent friend of Caitrona from Sicily who newly moved to Milan for her new job. Gianna frowns. “You scared me. So what exactly happened? How did you fall?” she folds her arm to her chest. Who else could it be? It indeed those devils, I will undoubtedly settle this score with them. But I should not tell Gina for the time being, or else she will worry. She thought.

I promised myself that when I got back home, I would fix this situation, whatever it took. *** "Jaxon, I'd like you to meet Giovanni," Marino said with a grin, "He's one of the top earners from the Marnelli family and he's going to be working with us over the next few weeks." Giovanni seemed like a nice enough guy. I estimated him to be in his mid-forties, with a full head of jet black hair and a black Armani suit. He smiled and shook my hand, displaying perfectly white teeth.