Vito Garfield Novels & Stories

Vito asked coldly. “You don’t have the balls,” Caddaric challenged him calmly. Vito raged and knew it was time to take Cassandra with him. His finger on the trigger pulled to the back and Cassandra closed her eyes, waiting bravely for whatever would happen to happen but she only heard a click sound. This distraction gave Casper the time to grab Vito’s neck from the back, ripping him away from Cassandra.

His mouth parted, but no sound came out at first. Shock washed over his rugged features, etching lines of disbelief into his forehead. “You—what?” he finally managed, his voice a hoarse whisper. “You killed Scarlett?” Rose gave a single, sharp nod. “She was a threat. To Damon. To me. She had to go.” Vito’s hands fell limp at his sides, his mind racing to process the revelation. He’d served Scarlett for years, carried out her orders with unwavering loyalty, even when they’d stained his hands with blood.

CARLOS This—was—beautiful. “Vito.” “Boss,” he called back. “Do you like what you see?” I knew I was going to love what I was seeing, but how do I know what exactly I was seeing if I wasn't told? Did Vito think I was a witch to know these things? “I believe so, but what am I seeing?” He took the blindfold off the man's eyes and now I could see his face, but I didn't recognize him. “What, Vito? Who is he? Can you tell me already? I don't think I have all day.”

The tension in the room had faded. My eyes met Rico’s. For a second, his gaze lingered. But I remembered Vito’s warning and looked away like I hadn’t seen him at all. My face stayed blank. Then I heard Vito’s voice. “Damn, doll. You look hot, even in simple clothes,” he said with a grin. “That crop top is lit. And I love how your belly button is showing.” I rolled my eyes and muttered, “Stop exaggerating, Vito.” He leaned back in his seat, watching me like I was on display.

Behind him trailed Bellamy, looking visibly uncomfortable. "Do you even understand what you're doing, Rossella?" he barked. "The whole of Cicaro is laughing at me, and you're out here entertaining yourself with another man?" Before I had the chance to defend myself, Vito had quietly stood before me. He was slightly taller than Enzo. When he looked down at him, he exuded an unmissable pressure. "Don Vitale, I believe I've already made myself clear," Vito said. "Rossella is now my fiancee. Being with me is exactly where she's supposed to be. As for you…"

“And lose half our people? Think, Kai. We’re smarter than this.” The team watched, tension thick, but Kai paused, her words hitting home. Her mind—sharp, strategic—was a weapon he’d come to rely on. “You’re wrong,” he said, but his voice softened, a rare admission. “But I respect your mind, Gianna. Always have.” Her eyes widened, his compliment a crack in his ice, her smirk faint but real. “Careful, Castellano. That’s almost a compliment.” Before he could reply, her phone buzzed, a hidden burner in her jacket. She stepped away, her face paling as Alessio’s voice hissed through. “You chose him, Gianna. Vito’s dead because of you. You’re no daughter of mine.”

Guards nodded as Vito entered, the bag slung over his shoulder. Don Mimmo was in the garden, pruning roses with shears that looked too delicate for his massive hands. He was older now, gray streaking his hair, but the eyes were the same—sharp as knives, missing nothing. He turned as Vito approached, and for a moment, time froze. Then a broad smile cracked his face. "Vito! Madonna mia, it's really you." He embraced Vito like a brother, the hug fierce and genuine. "We heard the news. The whole island's buzzing. The Ghost of Rebibbia, they call you."

He waved the officer off and stood up, his legs already numb. By the time he returned to the estate, it was two in the morning. The living room lights were still on. Vito sat in his wheelchair, a blanket over his knees, as if he had been waiting for a while. “Where were you?” “Brooklyn Bridge.” Vito was silent for a moment before he let out a long sigh. “How long are you going to keep this up?” Vincent didn’t answer. He sat down on the sofa across from his father, sinking into the soft leather.

It is a level of certainty that ends an uneasy curling through my stomach. I stare at him harder now, really stare at him, suddenly replaying every moment between us from the very beginning. Vegas. The elevator. The hotel room. The way he somehow appeared in my life again as my bodyguard. The expensive watches he never talks about. The calm authority in his voice whenever he handles security issues around the house. The fact that even Mark, a man obsessed with power and status, has fallen for his show of power. Like he has Mark right where he wants him to be. Who the hell is this man?

I yelled, pulling myself from the mattress to the headboard. My inner wolf was beckoning on me to run, not see him as my mate. "I-I'm looking for Damon! I need to see Damon!" The smile disappeared from his face, going cold completely. He froze, his hand hanging in the air. The heat rose in the room, and I felt it set on me. "Damon?" he repeated, his voice soft in a strange way. "The Alpha who rejected you? Is that your first thought after giving birth to my children?" His sudden rage overwhelmed him. The power aura rolling off him was thick, and I felt like I was suffocating.