Vanoss Marcel 소설 & 이야기

To support his appearance as an ordinary person, Marcel deliberately used a taxi that took him to one of Venya’s recommended subsidiaries. Upon arrival there, he got out and was invited in by the officer on duty. When Marcel showed a brochure to promote a formula that was ready to be consumed, the officer immediately called his men to take Marcel to meet their superior. *** While working, Marcel monitored his communication with Venya several times because he couldn’t wait to expand the market. “This formula has shown good progress, even though it’s small,” said Venya when Marcel contacted her via telephone. “Next week you can take samples for promotion as usual.”

Marcello shifted the gear and headed towards a building. "Enzo?" "Vincenzo. I can't believe you don't give him nicknames," Marcello shook his head. "I do. Bastard, pervert, psycho killer, asshole," Wade replied. Marcello shook his head. "Jesus Christ, and now I can't believe he didn't put a bullet to your head or peel your skin off," "Who are you?" "I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Marcello, Enzo's consigliere and best friend. Nice to meet you!" He sounded cheerful.

Most recently, he extended an invitation for me to join him in the war against the Rossi family. I did not expect to see him here. In fact, I have just lost my appetite. Just like his demeanor, Marcello’s face isn't a sight for sore eyes. His short height and his bald head are two of his greatest insecurities. In the underworld, rumor has it that he started balding at the age of sixteen. Now in his mid-50s, his head is just like a shiny brown egg. But his teeth are immaculately white. I’ll give him that.

The results I was working for had finally shown, and I was going to enjoy that moment, no matter what. I smiled at Declan as he shook me vigorously. What he didn't know was that Vincenzo was still out in the wastelands, plotting his revenge on me. He also didn't know that the burnt head in his courtyard belonged to Denzel, who had failed me.

They’d finally captured their enemy. “I didn’t want you to miss the show.” Damien continued. “Marcelo what are you doing here?” Jasmine cried. “Don’t flatter yourself too much Jasmine, I am an Italian drug lord and I always have scores to settle with the Russians.” “How beautiful! He is not here for you! So he wouldn’t mind if I…” Viktor swiped a knife right across her left shoulder, and blood shot out in a dangerous manner. Marcelo bit the inside of his cheek causing them to clenched. He had to hold that brave face for a little longer.

she muttered under her breath. But even as she said it, she knew she was no longer dealing with something that required permission to exist. The system didn’t care what was possible. Only what was functional. Suddenly, a new fragment appeared at the bottom of the interface. A sealed designation. Valerie’s eyes locked onto it immediately. “ORIGIN SUBJECT: MARCELLUS VANE” Her breath stopped for a fraction of a second. The name didn’t feel like information. It felt like pressure dropping in the room.

“Vanessa, meet Viktor Ivanov. One of the biggest arms dealers in Eastern Europe.” Viktor’s eyes flicked toward me with mild interest before he nodded. “A beautiful woman at your side. Interesting.” Alaric didn’t respond to the comment, instead turning his gaze toward the other man. “And him?” Leon leaned in. “Marcello Ricci. Runs the underground casinos in Italy.” Marcello smirked, his dark eyes raking over me before returning to Alaric. “Didn’t think I’d see the day you brought someone to one of these meetings. Must be special.”

Across from him sat Van Vicker, his longtime ally and the only person reckless enough to tell him the truth. Marcelo slammed his glass down, amber liquid spilling over the rim. "I want to go back to Morano," he growled. "I must have my woman." Van Vicker exhaled, unbothered. "Here we go again. You always act like a psycho each time you're obsessed." Marcelo's lips twitched into a sharp grin. "I chase my prey until I get it. Giving up isn't in my DNA." Van Vicker scoffed, swirling his drink. "You are talking about Alessia again, Luca's bride aren't you?"

“Marcel, calm down—” “Don’t tell me to calm down!” he shouted. “Do you have any idea how much damage you’ve caused? How much risk you’ve brought to me?” I gripped the edge of the bar, my mind racing. “I don’t understand. Everything’s fine—Sarah is stepping aside, and Marco—” “Marco?” Marcel interrupted, his voice dripping with disdain. “You think Marco is your prize? You think this little game of yours is a victory? You’re delusional!”

No empire was untouchable. She turned to the man across from her—Nikolai Voss, a German billionaire with a reputation as ruthless as her own. “She’s holding steady,” Nikolai mused, watching her reaction carefully. “You expected her to crumble?” Marcella smiled. “No. But I expected her to hesitate.” Nikolai leaned back in his chair. “She didn’t.” Marcella took a slow sip of Bordeaux. “She will.” He raised a brow. “And what makes you so sure?”