Max Russo Novels & Stories

He must love his mother so much. Russo is a 49years old man, for a girl have quite a good height and Russo is a little bit taller than I am. His hair is dark with a few strands of gray hair and shaved face. He has been In this town a few years before I came. he has been here for ten years living all alone. I talked to him about finding a girl to settle, and maybe start a family. But he was against it, saying he doesn't want to start what might end up bad because he was too busy with cooking that he loves and won't have time for family.

The chill of the northern winds no longer bothered Alexandro. He had grown used to the bite of ice in the air, but the hollow ache in his chest had become unbearable. It had been a month—one long, grueling month since Serena vanished, stolen from the world he’d built for her, torn from his arms like a dream wrenched from sleep. He hadn’t slept properly in weeks. His wolf, Ravik, prowled constantly beneath his skin, restless and irate, sensing the absence of their mate like a missing limb. The only thing keeping Alexandro grounded was the relentless pursuit of truth.

Enough turbo power to weave through the snow. Selene has marked out target two. Konstantin Rosanov. A Russian mobster who runs illegal underground dog fights and men wrestle, kill, or be killed. I’m on the fight list, but I need my boys. That’s why I’m travelling to Fijidale tomorrow. I won’t see Carlton, because if I see him, I’ll break. I’ll go back to him. I’ll fuck him and forget everything I promised myself at Camilla’s grave.

said Derrick, embarrassed. Suddenly a laugh burst from Valentino's mouth. Ruslan almost laughed too but held back, he instead said, "Young Master, have you never used such things before?" "Never," answered Vesa, getting embarrassed. Ruslan responded, "I'm better at this it seems. I have several social media accounts." Derrick clapped his hands, "That's cool, Uncle." Feeling that Vesa seemed to be starting to get uncomfortable, Valentino said, "We'll be there in a minute."

he murmured, "we face it together. You and me against the world, remember?" Sofia nodded, drawing strength from his presence. "You and me," she agreed. As they stepped out into the bright afternoon sun, Sofia squared her shoulders. She was Sofia Russo, daughter of Marco Russo, lover of Luca Moretti, and a force to be reckoned with in her own right. Let the Rossi family try their best. They had no idea what was coming for them. The game was about to change, and Sofia was ready to play. With Luca by her side, she felt invincible.

The penthouse apartment echoed with the sound of shattering glass and Nikolai's furious roars. SAINT PETERSBURG, RUSSIA(THE BRATVA'S EMPIRE) After the success of the engagement party between Mikhail Morozov and Donatella De Luca, the La Mano Rojas sent a message to the Bratva's empire, causing chaos within the empire.

He replies firmly, trying to sound confident, but I, as well as anyone within a ten-foot radius, notice the slight tremor in his voice. Nikolai steps forward, his presence looming over the officer. “I don’t think you understand,” his voice drops to a deadly whisper. “Libo otpusti moyu zhenu pryamo seychas, libo ya lichno pozabochus' o tom, chtoby ty i tvoy znachok ischezli iz Rossii do voskhoda solntsa.” (Either let my wife go right now, or I'll personally ensure that you and your little badge disappear from Russia by sunrise.) If I thought grouchy MCgrouchy pants couldn’t possibly get any paler, I was wrong. Whatever Nikolai says leaves him looking nearly translucent.

He said and I blinked, my body shuddering at the world kill. "I don't want to kill him, I just want him to go through the pain of my wasted years and careers, him cheating on me, I want to ruin his mistress, ruin his company and make him regret ever doing everything he did to me," I said resolutely, earning a smile from Russo. "Now that's a Russo, get to bed, I'll assign an assistant to you tomorrow," he said and stood up from before me. "I don't need an Assistant, I can do it myself..."

A tall figure stepped out into the bright light of the rink. My stomach instantly churned uncomfortably. It was Tobias Russo. He was wearing his Kensington varsity jacket, his hands shoved into his pockets. He had a messy mop of brown hair and a punchable, arrogant smirk stretched across his face. I already hated Tobias with every single cell in my body. On the ice, he was the dirtiest player in the entire league. During our last match, he had illegally checked one of my freshman teammates into the boards, giving the poor kid a concussion that put him out for the season.