Stefan Salvatore Novels & Stories

"I'm really sorry. But Mr. Salvatore is getting impatient. He’s been asking for the designer I recommended, and he’s still waiting." I froze at the name she just mentioned. Did I hear that right? "Wait… Salvatore?" I asked. "Yeah. Salvatore Ravalli. He's our business partner. Super strict, and everyone in the office is scared of him. But even though he’s older, he's still really handsome, so the staff can’t help but admire him." Salvatore Ravalli. Was it really him, or was it just someone with the same name? What if he was the same Salvatore who broke me and threw me away? The same man who was the twins' father?

Salvatore stood to greet us. “Nathan, what a sight for sore eyes,” he expressed and held out his hand to shake mine. “Salvatore, great to see you again,” I said, shaking his hand. “Well, well. Who do we have here?” Salvatore smiled, looking over at Amelie. “Hi, Mr. Aventini,” Amelie spoke. “My name is Amelie. I’m Dr. Michaels's student assistant.” “Ciao, Bella,” Salvatore said as he took Amelie’s hand and kissed it. I wasn’t happy with Salvatore’s lips on her, but I wasn’t going to piss off the head of one of the most powerful mafias in New York City.

If I weren’t, I’d have already slit his gut open, dragged his intestines out, and watched as he tried to shove them back in. “Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, rubbing my temple. “Mr. Agostino Salvatore. The great ex-Russian mafia leader.” My lip curled in a sneer. “What a fucking honor.” I heard the slow, deliberate tap of his cane against the ground as he stepped forward. From my peripheral vision, I caught the way his aged fingers tightened around the handle, knuckles whitening. His gaze lifted toward the night sky, as if he were pondering something far greater than the two of us.

I say and he laughs for the umpteenth time. Surely, I’m not that funny. “You’re right,” he says, but in a more serious tone, he speaks again. “I’m alive today because of you. I might be an evil person, but I will never forget the person that saved my life.” “Thank you,” I breathe. “Alright. I’ll make the call. And don’t worry, I’ll tell him you’re one of my best. Trained well, loyal, discreet, and expensive.” For Salvatore, everything eventually boils down to money.

Salvatore. I pushed the thought away immediately, he’s bounded by Omertà. He has been with me for years, through blood, through Diego. He wouldn’t, it can’t be one of the men. Salvatore Bianchi, Mikhail Reznikov, Kaia Morelo and Veleno Caruso were sworn to Omertà, they have already earned their place in blood. My phone buzzed suddenly, it was an unknown number. Private and untraceable. The room went silent, I answered without hesitation.

“I'm someone very important to Vie, and I know she doesn't want you, so leave.” “Do you know who you're speaking to?” Salvatore doesn't flinch, matching my intense gaze. “And you seem to have forgotten who owns the pack you currently reside in. I just need one word to completely eradicate you from this world.” With a challenging stare I stepped forward. “I would love to see you try.” “You underestimate me, Vaelor.” Salvatore smirked. “Stop swimming in past glory.” “You are the one with spitting delusional takes. I'm not underestimating anyone.”

“I’m Paul Salvatore, Leah’s father.” I blinked, stunned. “Leah’s father?” “Yes.” His voice was calm, almost amused. I stared at his hand but didn’t take it. “She never mentioned you.” Of course I knew who he was. Everyone in the underworld knew the name Paul Salvatore, a powerful mafia billionaire with deep international ties. Not as notorious as Alessandro, maybe. But dangerous all the same. My question now was ... why did Leah bring me here, was she trying to make a fool out of me. Why to this man’s mansion?!.

Stefano It's no wonder that I can't sleep. How could I? I had everything planned out. Get into the club, get a hold of Massimo and finish him off. But what happened? Salvatore went off the grid. I should have known that going with him would end in disaster.

Adrian listened carefully as Luca negotiated alliances, offering money and protection in exchange for loyalty against Vittorio and Damien Ricci. One man, a thick-necked capo named Salvatore, sneered at Adrian. “You bring your whore to serious business now, Don Luca? Has the great devil gone soft between the legs?” The room went deathly still. Luca moved like lightning. He stood, grabbed Salvatore by the throat, and slammed him against the wall. A knife appeared in Luca’s hand, pressed against the man’s cheek. “Call him that again,” Luca said softly, voice ice-cold, “and I will carve your eyes out and feed them to you.”

Diego repeated sharply. Salvatore nodded once. "He killed himself before interrogation." My chest tightened instantly. This was bigger than one escaped prisoner. Much bigger. Salvatore walked toward the bar silently before pouring himself whiskey with steady hands. Too steady. That frightened me more. "Dante?" Diego asked quietly. "No." Both of us looked toward him immediately. Salvatore drank slowly before speaking again. "This doesn't feel like Dante." The statement landed heavily. Because if someone like Salvatore Romano felt uncertain, everyone should be terrified.