Vongola Primo Novels & Stories

Titus told his boss about the sources which were provided by his personal investigator who is expert in getting confidential information. Viso D’angelo, the Capo of the ‘Le Aquile’ who had his eyes closed, opened them slowly and looked at his right-hand man. He arched his perfect brow at Titus and smirked. "And they will fuck around with my Dock." He mused in a dark voice. A malicious smile greeted his lips as He nodded. Titus thinned his lips in acknowledgement.

All these questions swirled through my head. "We’ll start training tomorrow morning," one of the girls said. I nodded. The girls introduced themselves to me; they seemed harmless and nice, a few years older than me. Isabella had black hair and blue eyes. Vittoria had dark brown hair and grayish eyes. Camilla had red hair and green eyes. "Now it’s your turn to introduce yourself," Isabella said, looking at me. "I’m Alessia Berlusconi," I replied. They all looked shocked. "Your father is one of the other mafia gangs?" Camilla asked.

I said. She told me. Three years ago, Luca Wolfe had been at the centre of an internal conflict within the Vitale organisation. A man named Caruso, a senior figure, had been skimming from the family's accounts for two years, diverting funds in amounts small enough to stay beneath the usual threshold of detection. Someone inside the organisation had found out. The information had been brought to Luca, who had been, at that point, one of Don Adriano's most trusted people, the one with the specific combination of intelligence and discretion that made him the right person for problems that needed to be handled without becoming public.

She kills people by stabbing them with her custom-made heels. Vittore Venturi – The leader of Fina Cosca based in Finauldo Island. He is a rugged-faced man who believes the world is grey. Nothing is wrong or right. Everything depends on perspective. The only goal in his life is either to become the supreme boss or to make one of his sons the supreme boss. His job comprises bid rigging and vote buying. Vicktor Volkov – The extremely tall, bulkier man who at first was Afanasiia’s bodyguard. He later gets promoted to Vittore’s consigliere. Everyone is scared of him because of his reputation of being brutal and loyal to a fault.

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—”

His presence was imposing, his gaze was intense, and his expression was that of a lion about to catch its prey. I had a bad feeling. “Chiara, may I introduce you to the signori of Italy (gentlemen of Italy),” my father said in a serious manner. “Marcelo Greco, capo of the Casamonica and our host; Paolo Esposito, capo of the Sacra Corona Unita; Stefano Lombardi, capo of the Camorra; and Alessandro D'Amato, capo of the Cosa Nostra.” Alessandro nodded, and the name hit me like a punch.

365 Days to Fall in Love with Mr. Mafia Boss The rain in Milan smelled like gasoline and wet stone. I pulled my coat tighter, but the February chill had already settled into my bones. Not that I could afford to care about comfort. Not when I was standing outside Velluto Nero, the club everyone in the city whispered about but no one admitted to entering. They said the owner didn’t have a name. Just a title: Il Capo. The Boss. I wasn’t here for rumors. I was here because my brother owed him €300,000. And as of three days ago, Luca had vanished.

My brother is at the end of the table, representing the Vladimir organization, which has risen from the ashes and is working closely with the Russian mafia. He has brought two surprise guests who are crucial to our fight and guarantee victory. On his right is Massimo Coppola, the Don of the Costa Nostra, and to his left is Aurelio Vitale, the Don of the Camorra. These two Italian mafia groups, formerly sworn enemies, have put aside their feud to form a truce with a single objective: destroy Alessandra Corelia, Damon Corelia, and, most importantly, Aleksandr Vladimir. I watch as everyone discusses and debates plans to capture Aleksandr, which would make it easier to get to the Corelia's.

Louelita found that more satisfying than she should have. Ezra studied the screen for a second before pressing the comm. “Now.” The ring closed. Primo emerged from the orchard shadow. Elio moved from the wall line. Ferraro’s borrowed men sealed the road while Omar cut off the back path. There were no theatrical commands or shouted warnings, only movement suddenly becoming structure around a man who had trusted his own reading one step too far. Salvatore turned once. That was all. There was no panicked sprint or fumbling retreat. He lowered the monocular and assessed the closing lines with the precision of someone already calculating cost.

My tongue flicked out to lick my dry lips, imagining the taste of harsh scotch and hot skin on his mouth. A slow, arrogant smirk spread across Vittorio's face. "Rocco made a massive mistake dropping you on my doorstep." I tore my eyes away from his lips, clenching my jaw tight. "You're a ruthless bastard, Moretti." "I am," Vittorio murmured, leaning back against the leather cushion as his dark gaze devoured me. "But right now, I'm the only bastard keeping you alive." He reached into his inner pocket, pulled out a folded piece of heavy paper stamped with the Falcone family crest, and tossed it onto the table between us.