Tony Montana Novels & Stories

"Tony is exceptional at everything." Lennox bursts into laughter. "Shut the hell up," I tell Lennox, trying to suppress a smile as I approach him and Blanca. "I'm serious," Blake tells Lennox, causing his laughter to fade. "Tony has never been below average at anything. Whenever he tries something new, he's practically a pro from the start." "It's like magic," Blanca states confidently. "He's a demon," Primrose chimes in. "One of those ugly ones that live in toad holes."

“He was found dead on Sunup Highway…” Jonathan inhaled sharply. ‘Isn’t that the way to the Wolfenden mansion? ‘That’s, that’s impossible… That’s Tony that we’re talking about!’ On the opposite side, Jason asked as Jonathan lost his composure, “What happened, Jon?” Jonathan was battered out of his senses and told Jason about Tony’s death. “Tony… Is that the Allen family’s bodyguard who is reputed to be as swift as the wind and thunder and as strong as an elephant?” Jason was flabbergasted as well.

Grace kept talking about getting what to eat instead but stop noticing Tory was already sleeping. Tory slept for hours before waking up,she felt her head ache as she stood up but didn't care, she kept on looking at her phone which had Brenden's picture as her wallpaper, she kept on gazing at the picture asking herself what was so special about this guy that makes it hard to forget about him. "Will you come, so we can get something to eat or do you still want to keep looking at Brenden's picture as if he will suddenly pop out of it"

Lola did not know what was worse, the pain in her leg, the dirty cloth in her mouth, or Montana's presence. Montana removed her foot and stood up, and then headed to the sitting room before returning with the contract and a pen. "I was going to leave, you know. But now that I think about it, you were never supposed to be here in the first place. So, in case you've been wondering, I am going to stay here a little longer, and I am going to take back what's rightfully mine. If you think this is worse, what I am going to do to you will feel like a nightmare, I'll make sure you leave this place at your own free will," she said in a deadly voice and tossed the contract and pen at her. "And while a

' I pondered, lost until I felt another rough tap. "Are you deaf?" The harsh tone came, and I shuddered unconsciously, turning to see Don Lucien Moretti, the terrifying head of all Mafia leaders, glaring down at me with his icy, blue eyes. A huge lump formed in my throat as I reared backwards in shock before looking down to realize that I was naked, with just a duvet covering my body. I looked back at him to see that he was butt-naked too, with the sheet in between us covered with blood.

He could see the disgust on her face, the betrayal in her trembling body. For a second, his jaw clenched, his shoulders stiffened, his whole frame locked in place. And then his voice dropped, icy and final. “Yes.” Her chest rose and fell, wild. “Yes…?” “This is who I am,” Montez said, his tone stripped of all pretense, cold as the grave. “I protect what is mine not with words, not with empty promises, but with weapons. With power. And anyone who dares to touch what’s mine pays with blood. No exceptions. No mercy.”

‎Troy Montgomery is the Smooth Operator of the duo, the one who handles the PR while Matt handles the executions. He is a golden-tongued viper in a charcoal-grey suit with eyes the color of cold bourbon, and sun-kissed honey brown hair that’s perfectly coiffed but just messy enough to suggest he treats every sexual demand like a high-stakes poker game, and if the price of the Southbank contract is a few hours of "throne room service," he’s already checking his watch to see how long it’ll take to close the deal. He isn't as sculpted as Matt, but he’s lean, and got a dimple on his left cheek that he uses like a weapon to charm women to split their secrets, and apparently 68-year-old empresses,

It’s as if the entire bungalow is mourning. Late at night, Mr. Montana sits in his study, staring at the framed photographs of his family on the wall. His fingers trace the edge of one photo—Joe and Bella as children, arms around each other, their faces lit with joy. “I failed you,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “I should have protected you both. I should have seen it coming.”

“Where have you and your little wife been?” Tony ignored her. To Matt, he said, “Meet my wife, Katherine DaCosta.” “Pleased to meet you,” Matt greeted her politely. “Pleased to meet you too,” Kate answered calmly. “How is your father?” Tony asked Matt. “I’ve met him twice, I think. Once in Los Angeles and once in Atlanta.” Matt was impressed. “You know my dad?” He asked delightedly. “Of course, I know Winston Carter, owner of one of the best NFL football teams in Chicago,” said Tony, softening a little toward Matt.

Bernard whispered to Monte, "My future wife is pretty fierce... I might get beaten up." "That's what you get for choosing a feisty one. Enjoy the smack," Monte laughed in response. "Do you want us to investigate Lovie de Luna?" Monica offered. "How?" Monte asked. "Duh... Guevarra... we have many connections abroad," Monica arrogantly replied. "Why didn't you do it before?" he complained. "How would I know she's messed up? Anyway, you're paying me, right?" "You really look like money!" "At least I'm normal."