Giovanni Russo Romane & Geschichten

But my eyes wandered back to the mysterious man. "This is Tamira Banks... Our best of the best," Russo said, laughing uncomfortably at his own joke. I cringed. It wasn't funny, you fool. The man turned around and I found myself in great awe. Smooth hair combed to the side and groomed all over. He looked like he had stepped straight off the front cover of a magazine. "Signore (Mister) Cosimo di Maggio," Russo presented him. I reached my hand out to greet him. In response, he flashed his long lashes at me and got comfortable next to the woman, ignoring me and my gesture.

“What about rule one?” His eyes flicked to me. “Rule one is dead. We buried it in the library.” The ring burned on my finger. Palazzo Russo was lit up like a crime scene. Cameras, politicians, socialites in borrowed jewels. All of them pretending Senator Giovanni Russo was a philanthropist and not a man who sold judges. We walked in and the room shifted. Conversations died mid-sentence. Alessandro’s hand settled on my bare back. Possessive. A brand. Every eye went to his signet ring on my finger.

Instead I grabbed my coat and headed for the front door. And that’s when the gates opened. A black car rolled in without prior notice. I stopped the minute it dawned on me that I knew that car. It belonged to a man who never came without an agenda. Giovanni Russo. Rosa’s father. The man who had been circling my life for years trying to fuse our families together. A couple of minutes afterwards, the car door opened as he stepped out slowly. 5’11. Mid-Sixties. Sharp suit. Usual annoying smile.

I brought it up again and I’m not stopping until he gives me his name. “I’m Angelo.”

I wanted him to be all mine, despite the little voice warning me against it. “I want you, gattino. I can inhale your juices dripping from your pussy into your panties and we want a taste, badly.” when he said we, my face scrunched up in confusion but understanding sank into me when I remembered his wolf, Zander. “Gattino, please let me have a taste.” His plea came out in a low growl, sending shivers down my spine and igniting my nerve endings on fire, making them burn deliciously. At that point, I couldn't resist the trouble that was Giovanni Russo.

The past In the next few chapters to follow, we will be delving into the feud between Giovanni Russo and Don Marino. Giovanni Russo was Don Marino's consigliere. He was an up and coming mobster rumoured to be taking over from Don Marino in the future. What could have happened that caused this feud, resulting in bloodshed on both sides? Rain.

It wasn’t Alessandro or Ricardo who had entered, but Giovanni—Giovanni Moretti, the third Moretti brother. If there was any way to cut through the elegance of the Dobre gala, it was with Giovanni’s wild energy. Giovanni was not a mob boss or a shadowy figure, but a celebrity. He was the youngest brother of the Moretti clan, but by God, he had made a name for himself in ways that had nothing to do with the family business.

"Th​e pha⁠rmaceu‌t‌ical company fun⁠ding St. C‍lair is bas‍ed in Zurich." I looked a‍t Giovanni. "He didn't k‌ill the boy. He exiled him. And now t⁠he boy is back." "Matte‌o Russo," Giovann​i whispere‍d. "If he is alive​, he wo⁠uld be thirty years‍ ol‍d no‌w. The rightful heir to the Russo cr‍ime famil⁠y."

He places his hand inside his left jacket, taking out his reading glasses and placing them back on his face. He makes his way inside the building towards his dorm. At the entrance to his stairway awaits his childhood friend Brandon. A young boy who is the total opposite of his. Brandon is known by most people. He's popular and outgoing. Dark brown hair and toned fair-skinned, with a sculpted body he likes to show off. Although Russell is in better shape than he is, and could probably kick his ass in an instant. But no one knows of Russell's hidden talent and a favorite hobby of illegal underground cage fighting.