Romans & histoires Mark Manio

I walked into the cozy room full of computers and took my seat at my gaming chair. I started working on my writing project in which I wrote about a person named Mark who wanted to belong in his new job but he couldn’t be himself in order to fit in. I was on page ninety-three and was really close to reaching the climax which was about Mark who finally snaps and realizes that he needs to stop acting this way, or he would be miserable. As I write, I feel someone walk in the room. I ignored it at first and kept writing. I then felt a touch on the shoulder and I turned to see who it was. It's Marcelo.

“The guy who decides whether or not he walks out of here alive.” The guard stiffened. Before he could react, Santino turned his head, his interest piqued. “Let him through.” Marko stepped past the guards and slid into the seat across from Santino, ignoring the women who had gone silent at his arrival. Santino exhaled a cloud of smoke and leaned forward. “You’ve got balls, Marko. I’ll give you that.” Marko didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “You’re dealing with Leonardo.” Santino raised a brow. “And?”

“To be honest, I don’t really remember what I screamed. It was a little before… “Of course, a huge beast is rushing after you. I can’t even imagine how it is - a wolf puts a mark on a person, - Marta threw up her hands. - Huge mouth and thin neck! “It was more fun when she marked him,” Ba said. All the women, except those who joined us later, laughed. I was at that wedding ceremony, but I already remember the details very badly. "His mark healed much faster," Lark grumbled, adjusting the collar of his shirt to hide the bite mark. No matter how many years passed, it was still clearly visible. Wangity label, true pair label.

Jenkins called out enthusiastically while many groans erupted from the students. I watched as Eli, Jet, and Damon took their seats. One guy stayed behind and talked with Mr. Jenkins quietly. He was good looking himself. I’m assuming that he’s the most responsible one. He strangely resembled Channing Tatum. You know the guy from Dear John? And let me tell you, I find Channing Tatum very sexy. He’s my favorite male actor. The guy walked to his seat and he saw me looking at him. So, he smiled and winked at me before taking his seat next to Damon. I looked down at my lap, feeling the blood rush to my cheeks slowly.

“Girl, I knew he was too damn fine to be safe. But why didn’t you stop when you realized the files were... you know…illegal?” I shrugged. “Couldn’t back down, Daya. You know I hate quitting.” She rolled her eyes so hard I thought they’d stick. “That stubbornness is gonna get you killed one day.” She leaned closer. “So you think Marco’s, like, from the… Maroon fam—” “Marano,” I corrected automatically. “Not Maroon. And yeah, obviously. Why else would he announce his last name like that? But I don’t get it—I just helped Xavier. It’s not like I’m walking around with the file in my pocket.”

Then he paused and added, “Since you asked about me, Well, I am Marco Moreno, popularly known as Marc.” What?! Julia shouted in her mind. The man before her was a well known upcoming mafia leader. She had heard about his activities in the United States, and now, he was back in Italy! “Today I appear to be in a good mood,” Marco announced as he stood up. “In order to keep me in this mood,” he turned to Martin, “you know what I need.” Martin gave him a look before directing it to Julia, who was still sitting and staring at them.

I said, studying the face and trying to imagine interacting with this man. Sloane pulled up the next photo—a younger man, maybe early forties, with olive skin and calculating eyes. "Marcus DeAngelo. Italian-American, runs most of the high-stakes gambling operations on the East Coast. You've invested in several of his ventures. He's smooth, charming, will try to feel you out through conversation. Don't give him anything. Keep your cards close."

“Who is he?” “It was Settimo Accardi’s right hand before he got caught and died,” Damiano replied. “He started as an errand boy inside the organization, but, in no time, he became Accardi’s shadow. Have you heard of him?” Manfredi closed his eyes for a few seconds. “No, but... It’s strange…” “What, papà?” “Accardi never accepted a newbie so easily. He was a paranoid bastard. Still… this name… Marco… I recall that once, during a business dinner, Accardi mentioned something about Mark... a bastard son he had from one of his many whores.”

He would cherish what they had. “So … will you give me another chance to start over with you, Bia?” Mark asked again, sincerely. Biana froze, her eyes softening with emotion as she looked at him. “You’re sure you won’t repeat the same mistakes?” Biana asked carefully. Mark’s grip on her hand tightened. “I can’t promise I’ll meet every expectation, Biana. But I can promise I’ll do everything I can to make you happy.” Biana sighed. She knew Mark’s work wasn’t like an ordinary office job. He was the trusted right-hand man of one of the country’s most powerful mafia bosses.

“You’re hilarious.” His eyes roamed over me, scrutinizing every inch of my battered frame like I was some object on display. I felt stripped of all pride, all strength. My leg trembled uncontrollably, and in a desperate attempt to ground myself, I dug my fingers into my own flesh—into the pain—reminding myself I was still here, still alive. “Kilman,” Markos called out without taking his eyes off me. One of the men stepped forward. Tall. Stoic. The kind of man who didn’t speak unless he had something deadly to say.