Massimo Mancini Novels & Stories

] He snapped at Matteo, who frowned at him. 'Stia molto attento, Dottor Mancini. Ricordi con chi sta parlando e sai esattamente cosa le è successo. Al Capo piace mostrare che nessuno può mancargli di rispetto.' [Be very careful, Doctor Mancini. Remember who you are talking to, and you know exactly what happened to her. The Boss likes to show that he will not be disrespected by anyone.] I listened to their sharp exchange, forcing myself not to react so they would not know I understood every word they spoke.

Finally, touches are made, and I am out of the door. I wait for the men at the foot of the stairs and they both show up. Santino as usual in an all black tuxedo while Maximo maintain his rugged look of wearing black ripped jeans, a black tight T-shirt with a black jacket. Of course, his feet are covered in boots. Both men check me out, heating my nerves as I struggle to maintain eye contact. Maximo’s look is intense as his eyes linger on my exposed thighs for a moment before he laughs a little.

Blood sprayed across the concrete. Dante stood, accepting a handkerchief from Massimo. "You're going to deliver a message. Some of you, anyway." He pulled his gun. The men tensed, but Dante didn't fire immediately. Instead, he pointed at the youngest one, he couldn't have been more than twenty. "You. What's your name?" "M-Mano." "Mano. How long have you worked for Caruso?" "Six months."

She was Ben's almost twin sister. “Montana,” she said, too brightly. “You’ve lost weight.” “I’ve been grieving your brother,” I replied. She didn’t flinch. “He’s been buried now. Time moves forward, and you should too.” Behind her came her husband, Marco. He didn’t speak. He never did. Just stood with his arms folded, as if he were waiting for someone to be dragged out. Then the patriarch himself. Vittorio Rossi. Slower now, but still looming. In a navy suit and the same diamond pin he wore at our wedding. He didn’t offer condolences. Didn’t even pretend.

I see the faint marks on his knuckles, they’re subtle but noticeable. He’s wearing a half-sleeve today, not his signature leather jacket, and burn me, he looks like he’s just stepped out of his usual shoots. Yes. Massimo Bianchi is face of Italian Magazines. I wouldn’t be surprised if he seeks career in modelling, but his dark soul is corrupted enough to run his father’s business. By business, I mean, illegal one.

He tenses beside me, his jaw clenching, but he doesn’t push me away. The men are playing cards, stacks of cash piled high on the table. Massimo is winning, his movements precise, his presence commanding. He’s untouchable, a god among men, and I’m practically vibrating with the need to be his. I lean in, my lips brushing his ear as I whisper, “You’re unstoppable tonight, aren’t you?”

By the time I walked into the office on Monday morning, I was a lot better. My assistant came in to let me know Marco Mancini was here and he walked right in. He walked with his shoulders back, in his mind, he had bought himself more time with Leonardo by blaming me, and now he thought he could just waltz in here and casually negotiate his way out of the fifty-one percent.

Caitlin grabbed a chair and sat down adjacent to me, her bare thighs squashing down onto the seat as she folded her ankles and leaned back. She gestured with her hand to let me continue, almost impatiently and I cocked an eyebrow at her with a small smile. This woman… "If," I emphasised. "You're willing. Your target would be Lucas Trevino, software engineer and owner of Godfather nightclub." I paused for her reaction and she simply just nodded her head waiting for me to continue.

Can that be his mom? Obviously it can't be. Nathan notices my presence and he looks in my direction. He gestures with his eyes that I sit in front of him and I oblige. The woman serves us lasagna "Uhm.. Mae this is Ashley, my fiance" "Hey" I smile at Mae who is smiling so widely at me. "Ashley this is Mae, my cook, she also helps out with most of the cleaning" "Nice to meet you" Mae says still smiling at me. If only she knows the circumstances surrounding this marriage she wouldn't be smiling but I don't want to be rude so I smile sweetly at her.

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.