Mr Tomato Novels & Stories

Liam's trained voice asked. "Miss Hunter may have company. Roberta "Robbie" Marino. Also goes by JR. As in—" "Roberto jr. Special forces. Two tours in Iraq. Adoptive daughter of notorious Mafia King Roberto Marino. Shoots first, asks questions later. Heard of her. She's a nasty piece of work, Mr. Chancellor. Allow me to assign someone to you as well," said Liam, spitting words at me that I already knew.

Over there". He says, pointing at Romeo who smiles mischievously. She was surprised to see a young, attractive, and handsome guy with a tan skin tone but it didn't change the fact that he took her for a prostitute, she thought, carrying the tray walks towards Romeo. She walked slowly, one leg in front of the other to where Romeo was and she set the tray gently in front of him. She sits opposite him and crosses her legs making Romeo smile lustfully. Romeo gives Pluto an I told you so look as he smirked, not knowing what was in store for him. "Mr. Sanchez, I came to thank you for your unwanted gift and since you won't take no for an answer, I just thought of helping you drink these glasses of

Silence came in the conversation for a moment, Mason didn't know what to do. - Did the mice eat your tongue? Roberto breaks him with his words, making Mason go out of his way because of the coldness of his words, who with five fingers of forehead could hurt his own girlfriend. -Look, Roberto, I already know that you are the lover of Sara's mother, you are two despicable human beings and I am not going to fall for your blackmail, I prefer that she knows the truth and that she decides, but they are not going to continue to take her away from her little daughter, just for an economic interest.

"You done?" Mateo didn't even look up from the table, his blade flashing as he expertly carved a blood orange into precise, jagged crescents. He’d been wearing that same predatory smirk since the sun came up, acting like I had 'Property of Cruz' tattooed on my forehead. We were alone in the Rivera Manhattan Residence dining hall. Lanka was still upstairs, likely scrubbing the scent of me off his skin. I’d almost stayed in that bed, ignoring the hits I had scheduled, just to see if his skin felt as electric in the daylight as it did at three in the morning.

I growled, my voice dropping into a primal, animalistic register that made the concrete walls seem to vibrate. The last man standing—a mid-level Moretti capo named Tommy "The Tongue" Marcone—was pinned to the brick wall by his throat. I had one hand clamped around his windpipe, lifting his entire two-hundred-pound frame six inches off the floor. His face was a mottled, suffocating purple, his fingers frantically clawing at my wrist, but my grip was an iron vice.

“Oh, God. Don’t get him started.” “Too late,” both Roman and I muttered at the same time. He shared a smile with me briefly, then turned back to his tablet. Instead of sitting at the head of the outdoor table, Joemar pulled the chair over next to me and kissed me on the cheek. “Don’t listen to him. A ristretto is just an espresso dialed up to eleven.” “You will not push my buttons this morning,” Joemar muttered. “But it’s so easy.”

Tamara’s eyes bulged with excitement and laughter as she shoved herself deeper behind the plant and tried to shove Marco away. “Sorry, but I have to save myself. Go!” Tamara chuckled silently as she pushed on his arm. “Hello Marina, Come stai?” Mrs. Donatelli’s voice carried over to them as she got closer. “Go on! Shoo,” Tamara whispered, shaking with silent laughter as she kept shoving his arm. No, No, Nessun Problema. I’m just looking for my son’s maid,” They both heard Rosa say, as they stared at each other with wide eyes.

I get everything I want at just a snap of my fingers so this girl shouldn't be an exception. I came out of the bathroom and when I got to the room, the girl was no longer there. Thank goodness! After wearing my clothes, I picked up my car keys and was about leaving the hotel when a call came into my phone. "Speak!" I said after answering the call "Boss! We've gotten the goods from the Japanese guys and the transaction went smoothly, they didn't try shit" Tom, the person I put in charge of my mafia business said into the phone "Okay, that's good news! We are going to be delivering the goods to the men of Roberto cartel and you know they are dangerous. I'm sure they will try shit so make sure

Dmitri spat out blood in my direction, an act of disrespect. I stood up from the chair and walked closer to him, raising his chin so he could take a look at me. "Unlike your miserable father, I am the biggest Mafia Lord in the entire city. Every single one of my enemies fears me, and they all have the right to do so. I am showing you mercy by exchanging your freedom for that of your sister, you should be thankful." I let go afterward, and with one last look at him, I walked out of the room.

Miller…Mark, as he insists I call him…is the quiet type, tall with broad shoulders and a smile that lingers a bit too long when he hands me the cash at the end of the night. Tonight was no different. I knocked on the door, and Tommy flung it open, his little face lighting up. “Haley! Come see my new robot!” He grabbed my hand and dragged me inside before I could even say hi. The house smelled like fresh laundry and spaghetti from dinner. Mrs. Miller appeared from the kitchen, her heels clicking on the tile, purse slung over her shoulder.