Vito Basso Novels & Stories

The August heat had become a living beast that clung to you and wouldn't let go. Vito had spent another two days glued to Ponada, from Piazza Verdi to the alleys behind the Politeama, counting doses, customers, and disappearing money. The boy was smart, but not smart enough: he stole, yes, but out of desperation, not methodically. He wasn't a racial traitor, he was just a drug addict deep in debt. This made him dangerous in a different way: unpredictable.

He slid a photograph across the table. Luca’s gaze dropped to it. A man. Mid-twenties. Sharp cheekbones, full mouth twisted in a defiant half-smirk. Storm-gray eyes that looked straight into the camera like a challenge. Dark hair falling artfully over his forehead. Beautiful in a way that felt dangerous. “My youngest,” Vitale said. “Alessio.” The room went dead silent. Then chaos. “You’re joking,” one of Giovanni’s capos spat. “A fag? You’re offering us a—”

That must be his boss. They were here giving raise and compliments, while I was in their midst, their prey. I was on the verge of crying. I blinked back my tears. I needed to be strong. “Who… are you?” I asked. The older man smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Call me Vito.” He stepped closer, slow and deliberate. “How were you able to connect with me? How did you get my number?” I asked in one breath. “You don’t belong here, Alina” he ignored my question. “You don’t belong in our world. Lorenzo may think he can keep you safe, but love makes a man weak.”

"Twenty grand." Livia's jaw tightened. "We just spent fifteen on bribing the alibi witnesses for Rossi." "I know." "And Carlo needs funds to keep digging into Russo's accounts." "I know." She stared at the laptop screen, fingers drumming the table. "Can we trust Vito?" "About as far as I can throw him." Sergio lit another cigarette. "But he's been solid so far. Got us the casino intel, the warehouse tip. He's motivated by money, not loyalty. That's actually reliable."

He walked slowly toward the main part of the house, listening for any sound of movement. When he stepped into the open living area, he froze. The boss was at the bar. Shirtless. Seated on a tall stool with one leg crossed over the other, holding a small glass of what was unmistakably alcohol in his hand. Aiden's eyes trailed over him before he could stop himself. Tattoos lined Vito's chest, his arms, his shoulders. Some looked like words, others were symbols, designs that probably meant something he'd never understand. His muscles were defined, his skin tan like he spent time in the sun despite looking like the kind of person who never left the dark.

Alpha Leonardo fingers brushed my hair. He whiffed. “This is the perfect idea. Sophia will be grateful for that.” His lips pressed against my forehead. Breaking off, he reached for Vogar, lifting and throwing him over his shoulder. Alpha Leonardo’s fingers locked with mine. We stormed out of the warehouse. The sun had already set. The cold breeze lashed my exposed skin as I entered the car, Lucy had left outside. After Alpha Leonardo was able to identify it among others. Alpha Leonardo fixed Vogar in the booth of the car, locking him in.

Xavier (wincing): "You here to stab me yourself?" Vito (smiling coldly): "No. I want you alive." Xavier: "How flattering." Vito (leans in, whispers): "You're not who you say you are." Xavier: "I never said who I was." Vito: "And I will prove it. Piece by piece. Memory by memory." Xavier (raspy): "Then dig carefully. There's fire buried there."

Angelo shouting something in Italian, followed by gunshots, a scream, and then silence again. I looked at Enzo. “Do you think they’re still winning?” He didn’t answer. The basement door opened again. I jumped up, ready to put myself between Sofia and whatever came through that door. But this time, it wasn’t Matteo. It was Vito. His lip was split, blood trickling down his chin, shirt torn at the shoulder. “They’re not backing down,” he said, breathing heavy. “Two of Rossi’s men tried breaching the east wing. Crow took one down, but we’re running low on rounds.”

Beside him was a side stool with some food, wine, and two wine glasses. I wrapped my bathrobe tighter to hide what I wore inside from his wandering eyes and moved towards him to see what was on the side stool. "Chicken taquitos and Chardonnay wine specially served for my Queen," he said and wrapped his hands around my waist from behind. Yup, my waist is his favorite body part. I smiled and turned to face him, drawing him closer to kiss him when he stopped me by covering my puckered lips. "When you're done eating. Right now, I do not advise you to wake the sleeping tiger cause if you do, you will have yourself to blame," he said smugly with a wink.

My skin crawled. “Hi,” I said, projecting as much fake confidence into my new voice as I could. I offered him my hand, eyes bulging as I was reminded how delicate the bones of my wrist were now. “I’m – uh – Viola.” Wasn’t that an instrument? Why hadn’t Bennett given me more time to prepare for this?