Vincent Larusso Young Novels & Stories

He said. Marcello gaze darkened. "Vincent,..." The man with a scar on his face warned from his seat beside Jacopo. "The truth is always bitter, Uncle Federico." Vincent scowled. "I'm not sure what you are talking about." Marcello drawled. "Oh, I get now. I don't think I lost when I shot- uh, what was his name again? Ah, yes, Alessio…?" Marcello's eyes flickered with dark enjoyment. "Shot that one straight in the skull."

~Vincenzo's POV~ Four hours ago: I walked into the dimly lit hotel suite, the glow from the warm lighting illuminating the way as footsteps resounded through the room. “Don Vincenzo. I’m glad you could take time out of your busy day to see me. Not that I had a choice,” the gravelly voice always was a shock to people. Lucas Everton was a young man and barely at 25, he had a genetic condition that caused his vocal cord to require surgery. Even with the reconstructive surgery and learning to speak again things were never going to be the same with him.

I don't have enough time to think about it, when they walk in. All three of them. Dressed in black. Moving like shadows. Vincenzo takes the seat across from me. Nico drops into the one right beside me. Riccardo sits at the other end, near the wall, barely looking up. I can feel Nico's eyes on my bare shoulders. “I hope you like red” he murmurs, pouring into my glass before I can even answer. “I'm twenty two” I reply. “That's legal” he grins. Vincenzo doesn't speak. Just cuts into his steak with quiet precision, never looking up.

Dario “The cartel girl is being told of the marriage,” Vincent Luciano, my father, said as he stared at me from across his desk. It was an ostentatious antique monstrosity in his home office within his mansion in the Ozarks. Tommaso Moretti, his consigliere, stood behind and to the side of his chair, where he’d been for most of my life—the hand to the throne.

Name: Lucas Montevecchi De Marchi Age: 28 Birthdate: Novembre 16, 1987 Birthplace: Italy Origin: Italian Current City: Boston, Massachusetts Current Country: United States of America Eye Color: Blue Hair Color: Dark Brown Height: 6' ft. Occupation: CEO; De Marchi Merchandise Father's Name: Gerlando De Marchi (Alive) Mother's Maiden Name: Aurelia Montevecchi (Alive) Serious Medical Issues: Mild Obsessive-Compulsive Personality Disorder (OCPD; In therapy)

"I won't ride with you." After saying that, she walked away. Vince smiled helplessly and started the engine, and the Lamborghini moved slowly beside Emmy. "Emmy..." Vince controlled the speed and looked at Emmy, "How could Mrs. Young take the subway to school? Don't you think I'll lose face?" "Humph..." Emmy snorted indifferently, "Who is Mrs. Young? I never admitted that I am Mrs. Young." Vince gnashed his teeth with anger, "Whether you admit it or not, I've already made it known to the world..."

“That picture was taken in Milan. Castillo Romano. The two boys? The one on the left is Valentino Romano, while the one on the right is Dante Lorenzo.” My heart nearly stopped. I exchanged a glance with Giulia. He didn’t even flinch. He wasn’t bluffing. Or at least… he didn’t look like he was. “And you?” I asked slowly. “I’m Vince,” he said. “Well—Vincenzo, technically.” Giulia raised a brow. “Vincenzo who?” He tilted his head, amused. “That’s all you need to know for now.” “No, see… that’s not how this works,” Giulia snapped.

6'0 Lorenzo:Younger twin.Fun ,loving and a prankster.His good at hacking.Overproctective of his younger siblings but mostly Alessa.6'0 Vincent:Their Dad.45 years old.Cold, ruthless,mean, unmerciful and current mafia don.Loves all his children but mostly Alessa and also has a soft spot only for her.Would do anything to make Alessa happy and supper overprotective of her.Values family the most

Rosaria teases his cousin as Connor scratches his nape. “Thank you so much for your compliment. I am Connor Carter Vozinelik, my cousins.” Luigino speaks up to catch their mere attention. “I don’t know your name, young man. However, I am your uncle, Luigino Walsh Russo. The second son of your grandfather, Lorenzo.” “These are my beautiful daughters: Amadea Morata, Rosaria Cucci and Alessandra Venutri Russo. I hope you all get along with each other because Amedea is the oldest, but she is still twenty-six years old.”

Luca and I both fell silent at the same time. Vincenzo’s lips curved faintly. “You’re too kind,” he said easily. “I’m not that young, honestly. Thirty three this year. Sixteen years older than Luca.” He glanced toward my brother. “Not old, but definitely not his peer either.” Heat rushed to my ears for absolutely no reason. I stared at the floor. Of course Luca noticed. He watched me for a second before turning back to Vincenzo. “Vincenzo,” he said slowly, testing the name.