Giacomo Gianniotti Height Novels & Stories

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.

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.

"Let's go, sir!" Nadine said, standing right in front of Brian's desk. Brian turned from his large chair and walked over to Nadine, adjusting his jacket as he gazed at her with an unreadable expression. For Brian's stature, Nadine was quite petite, with a height of only 155 cm compared to Brian's 185 cm, which meant she only reached his chest. Brian had to lower his head to look at the beautiful girl.

He was shaking with each word he spoke. Dom smiled, "I must say, I do like seeing you in this state. The great Gianni Esposito, the man so feared by any who hear your name grovelling. Get down on your knees." Gianni didn't hesitate, he dropped straight down. I didn't understand why weren't there any staff or guards to see this and help us? Dom leaned into my ear, "Look at him. Pathetic, isn't he? And I bet you thought he could protect you."

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.

“You might want to pay more attention to that.” I stormed out of the kitchen, my heart pounding. My mind was spinning, and before I knew it, I was googling her on my phone – Gianna Fernandes, Dante’s high school sweetheart who was now an uprising actress in New YorK City. I stared so hard at her pictures I was scared I might conjure her to step out of it, she was so poised and so tall and maybe Dante liked them tall while I was an average height of five foot seven, her hair was jet black and she had sported different hairstyles over the years that fit her sharp cheek bones perfectly and God – I could never compete with that.

The door burst open without warning. Gianni Salvatore, one of Vito’s most trusted enforcers, stood there in a sleek black suit, his hand resting on the butt of his pistol. In his mid-thirties, Gianni had a chiseled jaw, a perpetual five o’clock shadow, and a reputation for making problems disappear—permanently. Cold and calculated, he had little patience for diplomacy.

Thus, as soon as the lift door opened, Darla saw the two confronting figures standing in the doorway. She instantly felt the height difference is perfect. Gianna had a height of 168. Declan’s height was 186, and the two formed a perfect height difference. Most importantly, he looked very handsome, just handsome couldn’t describe him. He was gorgeous. Gianna was also strikingly beautiful. Bright-eyed and brilliant. Declan even needless to say, all permeated with the artist's reserved elegance, dusty temperament, that face is even more ghostly perfection to the extreme. The two stood out together.

She had fought them off with a broken piece of a stone planter before I arrived, her fingers smattered with soil and grit. One of the attackers, a high-ranking Marcone soldier named Gianni, spat a mouthful of blood onto the pristine white flooring. He looked up at me through a rapidly swelling eye, a bitter, mocking sneer twisting his face. “You’re losing your mind, Ricaforte,” Gianni wheezed, clutching his broken collarbone. “Starting a territory war over a nightclub whore? She’s just another woman. The city is full of them.” Something inside my chest snapped entirely.

Physically, the trio was just as mismatched. Zhao Kai stood at an impressive 190 cm, with doctors casually mentioning he might still grow taller in the future. Liu Jian wasn’t far behind at 185 cm, also holding out hope for another growth spurt. And then there was Yang Jun. At 175 cm, he was informed, very bluntly, that his growing days were over. If he ever grew again, it would be by at most 0.2 cm. The news hit harder than expected, especially when Liu Jian shot past him in height not long after.