Novel & Cerita Vincenzo Vinny Santorini

“You and me both, dad, but believe me, I’m highly pissed and plan on asking to talk.” “Remember, figlio (son), that man is a boss and her dad, so tread respectfully. And now that we know Salvatore is okay,” Donatello said, glancing back at David who nodded to confirm, “then I think we better go to your office.” Vinny nodded and walked out of the room, passing the room his men were in and got their attention. It’s nights like tonight that he wished he had a nice pair of thighs to sink between so he could fuck himself into a deep slumber. Vinny sat down behind his desk while the few men took chairs and his dad stood against the wall, arms crossed. Vinny looked around the room and then at t

Mr Sirenio looks up at Vincent, fear flicking in his eyes. “I know who you are,” he says then. “You’re an Ivanov. Vladimir’s son, aren’t you?” Vincent barely pays him any attention. “Why would you let a lowlife like him tell you what to do when you’re the boss?” at that, Vincent turns to him. “Would you rather I take over?” his Russian accent is thick as he glowers at the man in the chair. “You wouldn’t like my tactics,” Mr Sirenio clamped his mouth shut, knowing his plan at turning Vincent against Miles didn’t work.

It's Santino. "Whose head are you serving me?" He asks. Santino may be in his late fifties, but he looks almost as young as his sons. He has thick black hair, black eyes, and a muscular build. Unlike some families who have their enforcers or others who do the killing, Santino doesn't mind getting his hands dirty. "Trystan discovered that Christov Kondrati has a daughter and granddaughter," Deonte says. Santino smiles and rubs his hands together.

The letter was well written with graceful handwriting. None of her friends wrote that way at their age. She opened the letter and whispered the words to herself as she read it out loud Dear Year, No human shall spend their christmas eve crying alone on a park bench. When you feel lonely play this violin, for the sound will fill your heart with hope. And you, my dear Nebu, are the last person who should spend christmas alone. From: Secret santa. She figures it wouldn't be anyone she knew, because why would they give her a violin.

"Stefano." I nodded. "And the guy who calls himself Tanner?" "Antonio." Wow. My suspicion had been spot-on. "Tell Mariano that we're done. I don't need his men following me around." He shifted in his seat. "Don said you should talk directly to him about this." "I don't want anything to do with a murderer." I said fiercely.

“We’ll talk later. I need you to find out who took those shots at us when I went out with Viola a few weeks ago.” “I think it was Antonio. We both heard what the man who survived said. They were paid by a middleman but Antonio was the one who put out the order for the attack.” “You think he would put his daughter in danger? She almost died that day.” I defended even though I had a feeling Dante could be right. My doubts that Antonio was behind the attack were not because he wouldn’t put his daughter in danger—he would. It was because he had use for Viola. He wouldn’t fuck that up.

I groan internally. My name is Mariah Cruz. I'm 17 years old and starting my junior year today. My Father, Mark Cruz, is the current Beta of our pack, The Royal Moon Pack, and my mother, Jennifer Diaz, is the Beta female. My Brother Josh Cruz is 18 years old and a senior in High School. He is training to become the next Beta when our Alpha, Jason Adams, decides to retire and hand the title to his eldest son, Nick Adams. Nick is 18 and is also a senior in high school. He is also my brother's best friend.

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.

I pointed the tattooed one, “The hooligan, you said you were coming for me. What did you mean by that?” “And you, what is happening here?” I glared at Lorenzo next. “My name is not hooligan for crying out loud. I am Vernero Cattanio.” He boasted proudly like I was supposed to know he was.

Vincenzo seethed, baring his fangs at Elijah. Elijah held on to Vincenzo’s hand firmly, his face turning purple as he ran out of breath. I wonder how he could have ever believed that he was more powerful than Vincenzo. His body was so tiny and unsculpted. He looked like a bitch as Vincenzo held him up, his legs dangling in the air.