Vincent Larusso Young Novels & Stories

“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.

Five years had carved lines into my face, dulled my eyes, but the ache in my chest stayed sharp as the day I watched that car go up in flames. Matteo sat beside me, nursing a single beer he hadn't touched in twenty minutes. He knew better than to drink when I was like this. Across the low table, three men in tailored suits that cost more than most people's cars leaned forward, voices raised to cut through the music. Vincenzo "Vinny" Russo led the pack, gesturing with a fat cigar as he talked about shipments, territories, and the usual blood money mathematics. I nodded when I had to, letting the words wash over me, but my mind kept drifting back to the empty side of our bed back at the pentho

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

Amara blurted out. “I forgive you, I get it well actually I don't because I'm not rich but I can take a guess. Also who's Vincent is he real or made up?" I asked. “He's real and he's my older and much more favourable brother, he's still in Italy though. Sadly Luciano was the brother who decided to come back."

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.

Nicolo asks Marco. Marco rolls his eyes from Maria's killer glare back to his father. "Papa, Vincenzo Santoro is a three years old boy in my class. Maria and Vince don't get along well," "Vincenzo Santoro?" Gisella's voice lowered in disbelief as she looks from her Mama to her husband and back to Maria and Marco.

"When he doesn't get any response, then he'll feel safe enough to call a meeting. We just need to find a way to keep you alive until then." "Wha-what do you mean!?" Susan gasped, her eyes wide. "This isn't your responsibility." "No, but he picked a fight with the wrong person when he messed with me," Krista said, steel in her voice. "Nobody messed with you," Zach said. "And one thing I've been wondering; how did you happen to stab that guy..." "Vincent Abbrazzo," Susan said. "They called him Vinny." "...in the back?" Zach asked.

“This wasn’t part of it…” He crouched beside her, his face inches from hers, his lips curled into a wicked smirk. “Oh, it was exactly part of it. You just didn’t read it…..poor little naive Seraphina,” he said mockingly. “This was my game from the beginning; my setup….my rules.” He stood tall and proud. “I’m Vincenzo De Luca, the Mafia Lord of Manhattan; I don’t lose, I don’t beg. Let me bust your bubble…. I take whatever I want…. And in my games I always win.”

he says. I look at him. "Antoine physically blocked you?" "For forty minutes," Vincent says. "While Paul finished the layout." Something in his expression shifts, the faintest shift in his face, almost self-deprecating. "He's stronger than he looks." "He's a Caruso," I say. The faintest shift becomes something almost like the warmth coming back, thin and tentative but there, the warmth trying to find its way through the wrecked quality, and I feel it arrive and feel my own chest respond to it.