Vincenzo Vinny Santorini Novels & Stories

he said flatly, lifting a glass of whiskey to his mouth. Ice clinked as his fingers shifted. I couldn’t help noticing the small, bleeding cuts across his knuckles... and remembering what that man’s face looked like afterward. Goddess, Lorenzo was a sexy brute. “That’s me… Victoria Bian… Greco” I answered, standing there like I was in an interview. “About last night…” “The first time, you didn’t think the Greco family was worthy. You were too ‘precious,’” he cut in coldly, one dark brow lifting.

He frowned deeply, “His body hasn’t been put down yet. Where are you off to?” “I needed some fresh air.” She responded wanting nothing more than to abscond the presence of the likes of him. Vincent’s frown deepened, “The ceremony is starting. You should turn around.” He didn’t look sad. Of course he wasn’t, she thought, he was Vincent Morano after all, also known as the viper of the mafia world. He was the ruthless and arrogant son of the Morano family, more or less the black sheep, an exact opposite of the angel which his brother was.

He raised an eyebrow, “What are you doing here?” Vittorio’s gaze instantly turned glacial. He recognized Dante Falzone. He was Gilbert Cross's closest friend, the only son of the Falzone. In addition to that, Dante was notorious as a playboy. He was wild, arrogant, and unrestrained. “What the hell are you doing?” Vittorio raised his voice. “Answer me.” Dante let out a low chuckle, casually draping his arm over my shoulder. “Can’t you see it? We’re kissing.”

Definitely, he was. Just like Leone, he evoked power, dominance, and control. In fact, they could both pass as twin brothers. “Vicenzo.” His lazy eyes fell on Anna, and Anna’s back went stiff. He also gave her that demonic vibe, and Anna felt like hiding behind Leone. “You must be Anna,” he smiled at her, one that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m Massimo Maurizio, a very good friend of Leone,” he introduced himself. Anna nodded, gulping saliva down her dry throat. “Anna Lorenzo,” she said, even though he probably knew that already.

She sits back down on the couch and gives us a small wave of goodbye, I open the door but as I open it, I saw a tall figure dressed in all black and a visible snake tattoo trailing up his neck the fucker that works for Alessandro's dad. Before Alessandro could pull out his gun, the fucker pulls out his own and a sudden sharp pain flows throughout my body before darkness clouds my eyes. shittttt.......... (Just to refresh your memory snake tattoo guy is the one who carried Cassandra to that torture room when she was kidnapped by Isabella)

Her amethyst eyes shined bright as she turned them to everyone who was in the room. She walked pass her sister who was smiling at her at some point. Her sister even raised her glass at her and mouthed the words ‘I am proud of you’ at her. Veronica nodded and they walked through the stairs where her father stood along with the supreme dark-priest of Dexo Fernia. Her father was holding the crown that Veronica will wear.

Vincenzo said, looking down at Natalie's face with a soft smile. "Your name and wealth?" Catalina scoffed, rolling her eyes, and added, "You're just a bodyguard; what's there to your name? And don't tell me that small salary from my son is what you're boasting of as wealth. As for your heart, what could she do with it?!" "That's where you're wrong. I'm Vincenzo Saviano. Does it ring a bell?" Catalina's eyes widened with shock and, at the same time, doubt.

Vincent said with a soft smile, lifting his glass of wine for another sip, looking entirely too calm while I was having a borderline spiritual experience with my food. He had ordered for both of us without even asking what I wanted. Normally, I’d have rolled my eyes at that kind of alpha behavior, but whatever this dish was some creamy, perfectly spiced dream, I was too impressed to complain. “I don’t even know what I’m eating, but it’s divine,” I said between mouthfuls. Vincent raised a brow, clearly pleased with himself. “It’s a traditional Santorini dish. Figured you’d appreciate something local.”

He didn’t realize it yet, but I was already several steps ahead. “So, I’ll ask again, Antonio. Why did you call me out here?” Vincenzo’s voice was smooth, almost casual, but there was an edge to it that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. He was trying to intimidate me, but it didn’t work. I wasn’t scared of him. I was furious, but I wasn’t about to show it. Not yet. I took a long pull from the bottle of Chardonnay, letting the cool liquid slide down my throat. The taste was crisp, but it did little to ease the fire building inside me. My hand was steady, my face neutral as I wiped my mouth with the back of my sleeve.