Giovanni Russo Novels & Stories

A tall male moving with authority. As he stepped into the light, my blood froze. Russio Gravano. "Fuck," Kayden breathed. We watched as Russio and Grey talked. Too far away to hear. But their body language was telling. Familiar, comfortable, like they'd done this many times before. Russio handed Grey something. An envelope. Grey opened it, looked inside and nodded. They talked for another few minutes. Then Russio clapped Grey on the shoulder, like a father would a son and left through a different door.

I said without looking at him, waiting patiently for the metal to heat up. "What?" "I said, try again," I growled, my voice cold and low. "Mr. Gabriel?" "Wrong." I smirked, and then placed the hot blade on his palm. But that wouldn't hurt, right? I shifted slightly to where it would hurt most. This time, he couldn't hold back the scream as the searing metal sunk into his flesh. His friends watched in stunned horror. I leaned close to his ear. "My name is Luciano Russo, heir to the Italian Mafia. And I'm just getting started with you."

I used to doubt the possibility of them being obsessed with Alpha Leonardo, until the first time I set my eyes on him at the marketplace. He had the perfect height, 6ft tall, well-structured face with a chiseled nose. His brown eyes were so beautiful that I almost mistook him for a beautiful lady. His body frame was also perfect; athletic-like. I’d never seen a man so perfectly created by the Goddess. But his personality spoiled it all. He was ruthless and merciless, prideful and arrogant. A disgusting beast, who had zero regard for his subjects. Everyone detested him, and I was the front-runner. My hatred for him grew after the incident at the marketplace when his men knocked down an old la

His words have both of us laughing so hard that for a moment I forget everything that is going on around us and it feels so good, so needed. "Warrior Robbie. How can I help you?" A strange voice brings my laughter to an immediate stop as a guy comes to stand in front of us. He's incredibly tall and muscular and looks like he could scare even the meanest of wolves. "Yes, Johnathan. Alpha Nicholas is in the gym. He has asked for some privacy but I would like you to guard the door while he's in there. There's too much shit going on right now for him to be left unguarded."

I looked up to see a lean man with blonde hair and bright eyes raising his hands in surrender. Ricco, Nicco, and Maximo shielded me with their bodies. “Viola, it’s me, Carlo Mancuso!” He yelled loud enough to see him. I finally recognized him when he said his name. “Ricco, let him through. He’s my friend.” My three bodyguards obliged and Carlo walked to me. He was the nephew to Stefano Mancuso, the leader of one of the four mafia families in Italy. He and I were not friends. I’d only uttered those words to ensure Ricco would let him through. I’d gone to boarding school with him when I was in high school—before I transferred to an all-girls boarding school.

After an hour, my head was already throbbing, struggling to accommodate the information, and it kind of terrified me that this was only the beginning. “And now, a little test.” Abigail chuckled before pulling out several pictures that looked like they had been taken at a red-carpet gala. She placed the first one in front of me. “Who's in this photo, and what do we know about them?” I scanned the man with a short, gray beard and a mass of gray, curly hair, then a much younger, brown-haired woman beside him. “That's Filippo Russo and his newest wife, Bianca. He owns five hotels in New York and New Jersey. She… barely knows English, not to mention Italian.”

Athena Moore was carried by Lucien! I stared at my phone, frozen. The image burned into my mind like a cruel joke, one I couldn't wake up from. My grip tightened around the device as my anger swelled, boiling over with every second I continued to look. The headline at the top of the article taunted me, even though my name wasn’t mentioned. “Billionaire elite Lucien Giordano spotted outside his launch event carrying his once-disgraced wife in his arms. Has he finally forgiven her for the humiliation she caused him six years ago?”

Who does he think he is? "I hate it," he began in a dead tone, "when you raise your voice and swear. I don't want to repeat myself, Nastassia." My jaw dropped to the floor, "excuse me? Who here just found out that they're engaged to their Godfather? Who here just found out that that they're getting married to some fuc-!" I let out a shocked gasp for air as Octavious suddenly wrapped his hand around the back of my neck and pulled my body to his with such speed and strength, that in a millisecond my face was a half inch from his as he gave me a sharp look.

He had a light stubble on his chin and he became more muscular. 'But Philip is still more handsome.' 'Whoa... Why am I comparing them?' "I see you've already met Rob," A voice snapped me out of my thoughts. "Hey man," Rob greeted as they hugged briefly. "Rob this is my fiancee, Giordana Quinton," Philip said. 'They know each other?' "Wait, what? Giordana is your fiancee?" Rob asked, looking a bit displeased. "Of course. You got any problem with that?" he shot back.

("Men who think they're gods and forget they're mortal... are the stupidest on the face of the earth).” Giovanni’s eyes widened. That voice. “Do you think a few bullets can kill me?” the man said again in English, rising slowly, the hood falling back to reveal sharp features bathed in moonlight. Lorenzo De Rossi. “I am not as slow-witted as you.” His smile was slow and cruel. He whistled, and from the shadows emerged two figures — one tall, bald with a scar running from his ear to his jaw, the other lean with black leather gloves. Both held cold Russian PM pistols, raised and leveled on either side of Giovanni’s temple.