Richard Russo Novel Novels & Stories

she admonished him. “I’m not some piece of meat for you ladies to discuss my cock,” Russo said. “Would you prefer we talk about Drake’s cock?” Reese could barely hold her laughter in as Russo’s eyes darkened. “Why are you talking about cocks at all?” “We’re comparing notes,” Reese said and abruptly shut her mouth. “The fuck you say? Comparing notes?” Russo stood up so fast his chair fell over backwards as he grabbed his mask and shield and stomped out of the office.

She stated and then added, sarcastically, with a roll of her eyes, "Sureeee. I believe that." With that she got busy in the kitchen blabbering to herself while my mind drifted off to the sentence she said. Nicolas Russo watch people bleed and he picked you in his arms because you were hurt. Nicola Russo is pretty popular for his cold and ruthless behaviour while what I witnessed today was something completely different. He helped me because I was limping. The one time I was trying to stop thinking about that asshole Flora had to say something like this and mess with my mind.

Don Russo said with a pretty angry face. “I don’t remember lying to you Don Russo.” Sofia answered and used the title she knew that he did not introduce himself as. “So, you knew who I was all along but still dared to lie to me? Don Russo added as his voice got angrier. “I just played my cards right but honestly don’t tell me you fell for me.” Sofia said as she laughed at him. “Deal with her.” Don Russo said, and four men appeared in black suits and pulled out their guns.

I suspected he just wanted to be able to hit my mother without anyone to stop him. His office was open and two men sat in, their crisp suits and geled back hair with gold rings on their knuckles announced who they were to me. My papa, Richard Russo was the head of one of the most feared Italian Mafia Families. He was crafty, had good business with other Italians. “Hello Papa,” I greeted, placing a little kiss on his cheeks while studying the men that say in front of him.

“You have a gun?” “Of course I have a gun. How could I come to visit my mafiosa cousin without a weapon? I would’ve sent me back if I were you and I didn’t bring a gun,” she said matter-of-factly, waving the weapon around. I collected it just as Claudia came in. “No shooting in the house!” “There was an intruder, Claudia,” Juliana responded. “I let him in. He’s a Conti,” Claudia insisted. “Well, he’s a cunt, that’s for sure. He hurt Rosa. He broke her finger.”

Prologue Anastasia Olivia, Scarlett, and I swayed to the music in the Russian Orchid, laughing and carefree. This nightclub in Moscow was a must, according to tips Scarlett received. It has been the best summer ever; it would stay with us forever. I couldn’t remember the last time all three of us felt so happy and relaxed. We were having the time of our lives. Our last hurrah before life would take us all away and back to reality. There was a young Russian singer on the stage singing, and even though we couldn’t understand a single word, the beat drove our bodies as we danced.

LORENZO'S POV The city looked different after midnight. Cleaner, quieter, and easier to kill in. The convoy moved through Brooklyn without interruption. Nobody stopped De Luca's vehicles. Not if they valued breathing. Across from me, Damiano closed a file. "Russo is still at the warehouse." I nodded once, The conversation ended there. It usually did. The wedding ring felt unfamiliar against my hand. It wasn't distracting but just noticeable. Damiano's gaze dropped briefly to it.Then back to me.

Still holding the phone in my ear, I strolled out of the office with angry strides. “Leave that place Vincent. You’ll find no development in there other than your time wasted,” I instructed him, knowing that the police have no clue that they are dealing with a Russian mafia. “Are we going to New York, Prez? Luca says your father is there.” “No,” was my clipped reply, “You stay here and lead the others.” “Are you saying that you will go there alone?!” There was half-panic, half-disbelief in his voice. I pressed the button of our private elevator and just as the doors slid open, I answered with a determined voice, “It’s time to resurrect the Nikolai Svanetti name, Vincent.”

“I will.” We took three cars. No convoy. Just speed. The safehouse was a villa. Smaller than Alessandro’s. Pretentious. Russo was in the study, drinking, screaming at a phone. Two guards at the door. Rocco took one. I took the other. My knife went in clean. Daria was right. Practical. I kicked the study door open. Russo spun, gun in hand. He froze when he saw me. Not Alessandro. Me. In Alessandro’s dress, with Alessandro’s ring back on my finger, with blood on my hands.

Or would she have shattered—broken apart by the loss of the one remaining piece of her past that still made her human? Her phone vibrated. Marcus. Elena stepped away from the suite, moving down the corridor until silence thickened around her. “Marcus.” “Elena.” His voice came through taut with tension. “I’ve traced the bullet’s origin. Everything points back to the Russo family—Enzio Russo. Long-standing rival of the Salvatores. But something’s off.” Russo. The name conjured the image of young Azzurra with those tranquil blue eyes, sitting beside her mother at Alessandro’s birthday. A family once welcomed inside this very gate.