The Don Novels & Stories

But I stay rooted to the ground even as the hard pounding of my chest is the onky thing in my ears. The Don stops walking, he saunters to the left, grabbing a whip with seven branches tails from the wall, swinging it in the air and the sounds it makes my eyes dilated with fear. “The pact for Don's men.” He utters, his voice sounding gruesome, echoing through the open space. I lower my head, keeping my sweaty hands locked on each other, “Keenness, Strength, and Ruthless.” “Where did your keenness go?” He inquires, his voice drawling with rage.

It read “Don's Office.” I signaled Matteo and he pushed the door open. Alpha Don was seated like a sack of potatoes with his fingers intertwined. “Don't you have the decency to knock at least?” He asked with a condescending look which I totally ignored. “You already knew I was on my way here so I figured you had time to prepare.” I said as I walked in with my hands spread out. I sat myself down before Matteo could caution me through the mind link. “Now, do you have wine or Bourbon?”

But first, I had to get to the root of an issue. I looked at Matteo who was still standing there. "Have you heard about the rumours Luca Manno happens to be spreading?" Matteo nodded. "He says Don poisoned him because he wants to take over his territory." I shook my head. Luca Manno was a big fat liar, he handles only minority territories while my father's power cut across various states so what would my father need his crumbs for? I needed to go to the root of this all because soon I would take over my father fully.

“If your theory does turn out to be true, then it's better she stays close. Easier to control something in your bed than at your gates, don't you think?” Matteo sighed. He was unconvinced, but he knew better than to voice them out. Arguing would only be him crossing the line, and he knew better than to do that. I parted my lips to speak, but before any more words could hit the air, the door burst open. “Luca?” Irritation and anger tinged my voice as my eyes landed on the panting man in front of me. “What is the meaning of this?” “Apologies, Don.” My men knew better than to burst in here unannounced, so whatever it was couldn't be good. “Its an emergency.”

After getting remarried, I put my husband, Steven Graham, on the family's service roster at a rate of ten thousand dollars an hour. His childhood sweetheart, Julie Ziegler, heard about it and signed a long-term contract without a second thought. Four months later, the balance in my offshore account had climbed to nearly a million dollars. On our wedding anniversary, Steven was supposed to spend the day with me. Then Julie called. Her dog had suddenly gotten sick, and she asked him to go to her. I didn't get angry. I simply sent her an encrypted message. [Don't forget to transfer the payment on time. Late fees will be charged separately.] Later, when I had an attack of appendicitis, St

They're not the roster, Elena had said, through Dario's earpiece, right before the silence. "You're very pale, my dear," said the Don, beside me. "I'm fine." "You're not. But you're magnificent." He lifted his glass by the stem. His left hand was steady tonight. He'd willed it to be. "Forgive an old man his last vanity. I'd like the toast to be a good one." He stood. A hush spread over the terrace in widening rings. Someone tapped a spoon to the crystal. The Don stood at the head of that long white table in his black tie, a big, slow, weathered man with the lake behind him, and cleared his throat.

“Look at the great Don’s prized possession, groveling in the dirt like a dog!” From the doorway, Donna Sofia stood motionless, holding the heavy silver candelabra high. The golden fire of the candles reflected in her pale, ancient eyes—cold, serene, and entirely devoid of human mercy. She watched the brutal assault as if observing a necessary household task, her lips curved in a subtle, chilling smile. “Hold her arms, Odetta,” Donna Sofia instructed quietly, her raspy voice cutting through the sound of the strikes. “Let her feel the cold of the floor against her face.”

"The Don went to save Miss Leone. You can scream yourself hoarse. It won't help." "Everyone knows you've always had it out for Miss Leone. How do you think the armory blew up? We're not blind." "You'd better pray Miss Leone's fine. Otherwise, Don Galante will be the first to come for you." The pain in my abdomen surged, heavier and sharper than before. Something warm spilled down my thighs and soaked into my skirt. I tried to move. I tried to drag myself farther from the collapsed area. A loose chunk of stone fell from above and slammed straight into my pregnant belly.

“Torturing him won’t make me want you. It only makes me hate you more.” Rossi’s smile was slow and dangerous as he loomed over me. “Hate me all you want, *cara*,hate keeps you alive,but remember this: I could have killed him tonight,I still can,every time you defy me, I’ll remind you exactly why you should fear crossing the Don.” He turned off the main lights, leaving only a single lamp burning. “Sleep. Tomorrow the designers return for final fittings,and you will behave… or Lorenzo loses more than his hands.”

At the age of twenty-seven, Dawn Daniels had everything anyone wanted — women, money and power. His father was an infamous mafia don, and it was no surprise that he would inherit the family business after his father died from a heart attack. There was no other family apart from the old don who refused to remarry after Dawn’s mother passed away from childbirth. However, the young don always saw his subordinates as his family. In particular, his father’s advisor had always been a big brother Dawn never had. Ricardo was the last person Dawn expected to betray him. Yet, reality was constantly disappointing him.