Pietro Polendina Novels & Stories

My hatred for him grew after the incident at the marketplace when his men knocked down an old lady, and none could open their dirty mouths to speak kind words of apology. Alpha Leonardo walked past me that day, as I held the old lady, helping her to her feet. He had an evil, vicious smile on his face, the same one he has right now in front of me. I gulped down the lump in my throat, fixing my eyes back on Alpha Leonardo. “I will do whatever you desire of me, but make sure not to touch another strand of hair on my father’s body.” He maliciously chuckled but his smile faded into a smirk in an instant, “Get her father’s ticker.” He ordered one of his men, who opened a briefcase and brought out

“The bastard even refused me entry to my own daughter’s funeral and kept you as far away from me as he could.” I stared down at the plates, wondering how my life might have been different. “I wish you could have gotten to me. Those years were hell.” His gaze locked onto me, his brow furrowed. “I tried. I lost over a dozen men trying, half of them to the man lying in this house.” My eyes widened. “Domenico?” He nodded. “He was younger then, still working his way up. The anger in him…there is good reason they call him la Bestia, mia bella.”

she asks. "I am," Aureliano says, his voice thick with emotion. She looks at Ciro. "And you're the Shield?" "Always," Ciro rumbles. She looks at Spadino. "And you're the Jester?" "The best one in the world," Spadino grins, tears shining in his eyes. Maria picks up her fork. She stabs a piece of rigatoni. "Okay," she says. "Giulia is poor then." She eats the pasta.

Willing him to speak, to explain. John glances to me, then back to the road, then to me again. "Look, Andrea," he begins... "JOHN," Christophe screams as a car smashes into the side of us. My head snaps to the side so quickly I don't get a look at who it is, hitting the window with a crack. The car flips.

He was holding the knife with the golden handle as if it were his possession rather than using it to eat as everyone was. “See that man over there?” Giovanni’s said, his voice low. “The one who’s too relaxed, but his fingers are always touching the knife like it’s part of him? That’s Pietro Marino. He runs the rackets in Verona. Killed a man once just because he reached for the wrong breadbasket at dinner.” I blinked, glancing subtly in Pietro’s direction. He looked ordinary enough until you noticed his movements, the way he scanned the room like he owned it. He looked just as cool as Giovanni, but I knew behind every calm exterior lay a dangerous man.

I swerve on to the exit ramp and see Mario shaking his head with a small smirk. "You drive home then," I chuckle as he adjusts the hat over his face. Translation: fratello: brother Stronzo: asshole Figlio di puttana: son of a bitch Papà: dad arriviamo: we come Musica: music Bambino: child sta' zitto: shut up Promettere: to promise

While waiting, she heard the bell ring. So she walked to the front door to check who’s coming. It was someone she didn’t know. So she opened the door a little. “Yes?” “Miss Miller? I’m Pietro Bernardi. I’m working for Mr. Gabriel.” Rosalind remembered the name as Luca mentioned the name today. She smiled at Pietro. “Oh, hello, Pietro, good to see you. I’m Rosalind Miller.” She offered her hand to him.

“Yes, Ma’am. Tattoos and all that. Really scary guy. Got four scarier dudes with him and a SUV convoy outside.” Barrister Siena frowned. “Did he say his name?” “Travanto Pero… Petra…” “Petrovich. Travanto Petrovich,” she finished for him. Marco was puzzled. “You know him?” “Oh yes, I do, Marco. Let him in. And you better pray to God he didn’t hear you just call him a thug,” she said, smiling.

Adriano didn't bother to listen anymore and chucked the cell phone at the wall shattering it into pieces. It was so hard for him to not burn down the whole world. It was a miracle that he didn't killed anyone until now though his hands were itching to stain them with blood. He keep taking ragging breath and sit on the desk trying to think rationally. He was Adriano Pietro, the one who is famous for his anger as well as intelligence. He was sharp minded indeed unless how could he had handled this whole Pietro empire at the age of seventeen. He ran a hand along the length of his face trying to calm the raging volcano erupting inside him.

— A contemporary of my father, Girolamo Condello was a don from another era and head of the largest 'ndrina' in Piedmont. Like me, he was a member of La Provencia, our governing body. — Ciao, Mommo . — I kissed your cheeks. — What a pleasant surprise. — I had a feeling about what this meeting might mean, but I hoped I was wrong. Marco's worried expression told me he suspected it too. — You're looking fine. It's been a long time since I've seen you without a suit. “Forgive me,” I said with a self-deprecating shrug. — We started la vendemia and I just got back from the vineyard.