Salvatore Boarding House Novels & Stories

"The Russos brought heavy-hitters. They used a thermal charge on the main gate. I looked up at Salvatore, my breath coming in jagged gasps as the terrifying reality set in. "Who... who are they?" I asked, my voice cracking. My heart was beating so loudly it drowned out the distant alarms. I gripped his suit jacket tightly, terrified of the answer, desperately praying that it wasn't my father out there trying to kill us both. "He’s not here for us, Salvatore," he said, pulling me toward the reinforced center of the house. "He’s here for the asset. He’d rather see you dead in a Moretti house than alive as a Moretti wife. It’s about the message."

Dr. Nina Patel arrived exactly at nine, carrying a leather briefcase and wearing a expression that said she'd dealt with worse than the Mafia. Dante met her at the door. "Mr. Salvatore. I've reviewed the brief information you provided." She stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. "Where is he?" "Upstairs. Third door on the left." Dante gestured toward the staircase. "He doesn't think he needs therapy." "They never do." Dr. Patel started up the stairs, then paused halfway. "I'll need complete privacy. No listening at doors, no guards posted outside, no surveillance."

Lyra replied while driving the car. "Whatever, don't trust him too much," Bryant said. "Hey, baby, you know I don't trust anyone. I just pretend I trust the people. " Lyra chuckled. Bryant chuckled in response. "By the way, how does Salvatore Mansion look?" He asked "It is a very big house, and there are servants and bodyguards all around." Lyra explained "Aaron Salvatore is a very good mafia king for sure, but he loves his family very much."

Damian was gone, but his jacket still hung over the back of the armchair where he'd left it, a silent mark of his presence. I padded barefoot to the kitchen. The floor was cold under my toes, a welcome jolt. Everything about this penthouse was sleek-black marble counters, stainless steel appliances, the faint smell of expensive coffee lingering in the air-but this morning, it felt like a stage before a play. Empty. Waiting. My phone buzzed on the counter. Marcus Hale – URGENT My stomach dipped. The message was just a link. I tapped it and a headline from the Financial Times exploded onto my screen:

Just to prove to myself that it had been real and not some fevered dream born of sleeplessness and guilt. I knew Salvatore wouldn’t be home. He had mentioned earlier to Lorenzo quietly, and professionally that he had personal business today. A visit to Francesca’s parents outside the city maybe. Something about checking on them and bringing gifts, after all,today was the day that he was to go and see her parents. He never elaborated, and I never asked. So the staff quarters would be empty. I waited until Guila was deep in her phone call, then slipped downstairs. The corridor felt colder today, or maybe it was the blood rushing in my ears. His door was closed but not locked, it's never locked

The figure was too blurry to make out clearly, but the size and build matched Matteo. "The plate number was visible. I ran it through some contacts." Sophia swiped to another image. "It led us to a secluded location in the Bronx. An abandoned warehouse that's been used by the Salvatore family for years." "The Salvatores." The name meant nothing to me. "A rival mafia family. They've been at odds with the Romanos for decades." Sophia's jaw tightened. "Which makes this complicated. That area is dominated by them. We can't just walk in without consequences."

Manzella reminded him. Giuliano chuckled evilly. "That's if they know who did it... I have a plan, Manzella, but it's still yet a plan...still cooking. They won't know what hit them until it's too late," He took a drag from his cigar again, and exhaled rings of smoke. "You know, I once fancied his mother, yeah, the Mafusia?" He smiled lecherously. "But Salvatore stole her from me. That sly fox with all his charms.”

"You, who the hell are you?" Salvatore couldn't help feeling offended by the fact that these three famous people didn't recognize him. As a powerful Mafia boss, he had always regarded himself highly, and he would have expected other powerful individuals like Mrs Danvers and Erin, to recognize who he was. Rising from his seat, Salvatore approached Mrs Danvers, saying, "I'm Don Salvatore. And I believe you know the reason why my men kidnaped you?"

Taking a long drag of my cigarette, I let the smoke calm and soothe me, prepare me for the blow I was about to deliver. Soon, I will get to share many more cigarettes with my curious malen'kaya ptitsa. "We shall deal with them according to our code and set of rules. You can fucking leave now." Salvatore stated, gesturing for the door just as Ioann released a small, amused chuckle and rolled his eyes at the older gentleman.

Dante tapped a complex sequence into a keypad hidden behind a loose brick. With a groan of heavy hydraulics, the door swung open, revealing the "Opera House." It was a subterranean cathedral of forgotten technology. Rows of old theater seats faced a wall of high-definition monitors. Racks of server blades hummed in the corners, cooled by a redirected mountain spring that trickled through a stone channel. In the center of the room, surrounded by blueprints and half-finished circuit boards, stood Salvatore. He was a man who looked like he’d been carved from a different era, wearing a silk waistcoat and holding a soldering iron like a conductor's baton.