Vongola Primo Novels & Stories

Chapter 1 Tori Angelo Rizzo; 34. Vittoria – Tori Romano; 23. “Mark my words,” Giorgio says. “By the end of the year, I’ll be one of the bosses.” I almost let out a snort. Listening to my stepbrother go on and on about how important he is in the Cosa Nostra is ridiculous. He wishes.

The caller ID tells me it's Frankie and I pinch the bridge of my nose because I have a feeling he’s calling with bad news. Classic fucking Frankie. “I’m on my way,” I say, and don’t even wait for him to answer before I put the phone down again. But when I open the front door to walk to the armored Bentayga, I wish I fucking listened to him. On my doorstep is Vito, along with the three Camorra heads: Sal ‘Snake-Eyes’ Bianchi, Aldo ‘Fats’ Colombo, and Vinny ‘The Sandman’ Ricci. Older generation scumbags with shitty nicknames and too much fucking power if you ask me.

One of Vittorio Romano’s men pushed open the meeting room doors when we approached and the conversations inside immediately stopped. Five men already sat around the long dark table. Vittorio Romano at the head, blonde-haired, with cold blue eyes. Still dangerous despite his age. And to his right sat his son Alessio Romano, then Mico. One of Italy’s deadliest and there were other underbosses from allied territories too. And empty whiskey glasses were scattered across the table. Looks like I wasn’t the only one having a bad night. “Matteo,” Vittorio greeted calmly.

It was thick and hard like an ATM card with some words chiseled on it. It has a six digit number on it, and a logo of a two tulip flower entangled on each other. Serene read the words on top of the ticket. “Casa Roma.” “The Casa Roma was the prestigious hotel freshly built on the Vianca Island. I'm sure you already heard about that island in the east. I stayed there once and they have the best wine ever in the whole continent. It's a good thing they built an official hotel on that place because resort houses was a bit old fashioned for me.” Sydney had gone through the Vianca Island after college graduation. She met few hunks there, but the tourists on the Vianca Island mostly are womanizer.

They were expanding, hungry, and they didn’t share. Vito’s first job for the Monteortone came through a bartender named Tano at Il Capo, a hole-in-the-wall where the espresso was strong enough to wake the dead. Tano slid him an envelope across the zinc counter. “Deliver this to the fishmonger at La Vucciria. Don’t open it. Don’t be late.” Inside were bricks of cash and a burner phone. Vito made the drop, collected a nod and a thousand euros. Easy. Familiar. The beast stirred.

A ruthless wealthy man, shady and does underground deals yet manages to never get caught. “Of course I do know him. I have a strong feeling he did this.” “Alegra! Be careful, if you are not certain of your words, then don’t point accusing fingers. He can be deadly.” Chief Alegra scoffed. He was certain chief Giovanni is responsible for the attack on him. He swore to get to the end of it and wouldn’t hesitate to retaliate notwithstanding whoever it was. All these while, Alessandro had a mic strapped to his ear as he listened to chief Alegra’s discussion with the prime minister. He had followed the tracker he placed on chief Alegra the moment Isabella left.

“Capo Giovanna is in charge of the underground fight rings and Capo Vitale..” “Is in charge of housekeeping.” I completed his sentence.” I had met Vitale once, shortly after my wedding. He was a huge man with a deep scar that ran across his face, very close to his right eye. He is Alessandro's most brutal enforcer and an old school guy. His loyalty to Alessandro was unquestionable. What I didn't understand was why the generals of arms deals, illegal gambling and foot soldiers respectively all had to meet with Alessandro today. Could something be up? Or am I thinking too much?

They watched like judges awaiting the condemned. Matteo shadowed me, a step behind, his presence a silent warning. He leaned against the wall near the doorway, arms crossed, gaze predatory. If anyone reached for me, he’d break them without hesitation. I took the head chair. My father’s chair. Leather creaked under me, the weight of legacy pressing down like a blade across my shoulders. Zio Romano cleared his throat first, his silver hair immaculate, his eyes cold. “So. The Vitales greet you with open arms, and in return, they receive bullets. Now the streets whisper of Bianchi betrayal. Do you call this leadership, Giulianna?”

Kira Quezada faked her own death to escape a family legacy that wanted to sell her off like a signature on a contract. Three years later, disguised as a cleaner, she's finally safe, until her new boss looks at her twice and realizes exactly who she is. Luciano Rodriguez doesn't expose her. He makes her an offer instead: marry him, save his dying grandmother's peace of mind, and help him bait the uncle circling his empire like a wolf. It's supposed to be a contract. Nothing more. But the man she was promised to as a girl and the man hunting Luciano's throne are the same person, and he's not done with either of them. As old secrets surface and new ones are made in the dark, Kira has to decide

POV: Matteo "Vittorio Vitale isn't retired," Marco said, dropping a thick folder onto my desk before I'd even finished my first cup of coffee. He arrived at the compound before dawn, his face carrying the particular urgency of a man who had spent the entire night wide awake chasing something down, and the first sentence out of his mouth was enough to put every soldier in the house on immediate alert. "He's been meeting quietly with two members of the extended Marchetti family for the past six weeks," Marco continued, "offering to erase old family debts in exchange for information about your new alliance with Camilla."