Pinocchios Dads Name Novels & Stories

"How do you even know those nicknames, grandpa?" Dionysus' grandfather nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders. "I overheard it from our housemaids. Why, kiddo?" "Ohh, ohh. How about Peachy Pie, Sugar Plum and Pudding Pop?" "For Pete's sake. Just go with the first one you had called me. Easy peasy. End of discussion." Dionysus interrupted Zoey. Zoey looked confused. "Which one? I can't remember." "The 'Honey Bun', witch." Right after that, Dionysus' face heated up and he had to cover it up by drinking his own iced coffee.

I sighed when I felt a sting on my chest again, dad just said that I should avoid stress, and here I was, stressing myself with his cheating. I took a deep breath and pushed that thought away from my head and faced dad who was still looking at me, waiting for me to say something. I knew it would be rude to say this to him, especially Dion— oh, Gin was his son, but I have to, for my baby's sake. "Dad, can you not please mention Gin to me anymore? The thought of him is stressing me out and I don't want that stress to affect my baby. And please, stop calling him Dion. He said it, he's no longer Dion. He is Gin Montero."

I groaned " How can he do this to me? I am his mate." " Now, you remember that you are his mate? Because last time I remember you wanted him to reject you only because you share the age gap?" dad asked " And, he is a free man. He can bring any woman with him since he is not mated or in a realtionship with you so tell me princess, how is he cheating on you?" " I know what you are trying to do, dad." I said looking at him. " You do? Great, because I can see that it is working now get out of my office and oh yeah, if you are going to be working over here then don't refer me as dad. Call me Mr. Petriokias." dad orders.

My father glanced up from the papers he was signing. "Dad." "Finally, you're here. You did not meet Mr. Chianco! Do you realize he came all the way from China? He pulled out of the investment because of you! Don't you have anything better to do? I told you to meet him, but what did you do? You ditched him instead!" Dad yelled angrily. "Dad, it wasn't my intention to—"

"Nico is 3-years older than me. He was 7 and I was 4, but I still remember how we both were playing in our little Italian cottage - dad loved that cottage, he always loved coming home to it. We were plating and mamma was praying. Padre was gone off on a risky mission with your dad when we got the call. È stato colpito' I had heard the man tell her, he's been shot. Mamma cried the whole way to the hospital and I was terrified. When we got there and asked the doctor what happened, he told us that dad had been shot was couldn't make it, giving him 2 days at best," Alessio's voice grew quiet. Serafina turned to look at him, seeing how his eyes drooped and his breathing slowed. He wasn't falling

I was assaulted by the scents of cedar wood and expensive cigars hung thick in the air. I let go of a shuddering breath as I stepped inside. Gaetano Siciliano, the patriarch of the family, the Don— one of the most powerful and feared heads of the mafias in Italian history— my father was sitting in his chair before his massive desk. His thick brows knitted together, hanging low over his dark caramel eyes and gray hair cut stylishly. In his sixties, he was still fit, strong, and could beat me in the ring if he desired to, but he always humbly said his prime was over. “Figlio.”

“I’ll keep it short because Alessio is getting tired again." “No, he isn’t,” I said, giving Alessio a light elbow, feeling bad for the way he was treating his dad. I would’ve wished for my dad to tell me stories like these, especially if they were inspiring. A family that came from nothing and built something. “Please, don’t stop. I want to hear everything.” Domenico’s eyes sparked as I told him to continue. “My father’s name was also Alessio,” he began. “Alessio Fanucci.”

Before Gianna could say more, her father was commenting, “The last person Gianna dated was an orthodontist. The one before him? Career military.” “Yes,” Gianna huffed out, “And before that was a museum curator. I don’t think the previous occupations of my former romantic interests have anything to do with Dante. Dad, please.” “Private security,” She heard her father mumble out. Giovanni volunteered, “Cy--Dante’s grandparents own this restaurant. Best noodles in Sangrid.” With a chuckle, Gianna said, “Best noodles in the country.” A pleased look finally replaced the critical one on Gianna’s father’s face. “They just might be,” he admitted.

Nico chuckled nervously, tucking his hands under the table. "So, Nico," Dad boomed, spearing a carrot with his fork, "tell me about your family. What does your dad do?" Nico's smile faltered for a beat. "He is a businessman, a multi-billionaire who travels round the world, all in the name of business" he said, his voice full of spite. I held my breath, praying Dad wouldn't pick up on the tremor. “And your mom?” Dad continued. Nico straightened on his chair a little. “She owns a store where she sells puppies. She is also a veterinarian.”

His Dad is Noah, my dad's best friend since they were practically babies. There was some drama between our fathers and uncle Andras right before we were all born. Something about aunt Bron thinking she was in love with Noah but him being a total dickhead to her. We never got the whole story or anything, but according to Noah himself, it was pretty bad. “Hey, Trevor!” “Hey, man.” “Sup, dude?”