#sovrani

BASIC INFORMATION:

NAME: Carla Beneventi-Vespucci.   AGE: 32. PLACE OF BIRTH: Launceston, Massachusetts, United States. AFFILIATION: The Sovrani. OCCUPATION: Lawyer; public defender. FACE CLAIM: Greta Onieogou. AVAILABILITY: TAKEN.

BIOGRAPHY:

“You know you don’t have to come with us, right? Your life is here, my love.”

“A life where I spend every day worrying about what’s happening to you guys?”

There she stood, with her hands on her hips, and defiance in her words that she’d learned by heart from the woman before her. Like mother, like daughter…

And no matter what people said—no matter the looks they might’ve received over the years—she was her mother. It was a great source of pain when anybody doubted it.

From the very start, it’d been the Italian who had raised her; though never through any fault of her biological mother’s. It was just one of those unfortunate things. Frieda had been sick, and Allegra had been her best friend in the entire world. Without any family to fall back on, and with so much love for the small human she had been blessed enough to spend three painfully short years with, she had pleaded with the woman she trusted most to take care of her child when she was gone. People were so quick to paint the Italian as a heartless monster, but Carla knew better. There was no way she would be half the woman she was today if Allegra hadn’t made that promise.

“Your father and I will be fine.”

“And what if you’re not? What if something happens and I’m stuck here?”

It was a terrifying thought.

Whilst Carla didn’t remember anything of Frieda—the only knowledge she possessed at all coming from the memories and photographs Allegra happily shared with her—the bond she had with her mother was unbreakable. And that wasn’t to say that she didn’t love her father and her sister, too, because she absolutely did. With her whole heart. But there was something special between them. The woman was her mother, her best friend, and her mentor all rolled into one, and whilst it pained her to wonder what might’ve been had Frieda lived to raise her, Carla knew that she was blessed to have been taken in by the family she had. So much so, that being without them for the first time in her memory was a dire prospect.

Being a member of the Vespucci family was a privilege for all, not just the girl who had ended up there by a twist of fate. Her parents had done well to hide the reason as to why from her for as long as possible, though. It’d been disappointing to find out they’d kept it from her; that, far more of a blow than realising her family was about as involved with the mafia as was humanly possible. Of course she’d heard rumours, but she’d always just thought people were teasing her. Carla wasn’t angry with them. Any hurt had been short-lived because as was always the case, they had only been doing what they thought was best for her, and how could she be upset at that?

Her parents just wanted her to do better. To be better.

“If things get too crazy, we’ll come right back home.”

“You say that like I don’t know you. I know you won’t turn your back on Vincenzo right now. I know that he needs you there, and that’s okay. Just let me be there, too.”

Thanks to her family’s wealth and influence, Carla knew she’d lived an utterly privileged life. They could afford to send her to the best schools, to buy her the best clothes, to take her on the most wonderful family vacations to Rome. And whilst she would’ve been a fool to pretend she didn’t love every moment of it, the best part of all was that she felt so unconditionally loved. Perhaps, in ways that some children never even felt with their biological families. With her parents also came the extended family—both Vespucci and Auditore. Maybe some of the people in their home borough of Valence raised an eyebrow at them wandering around with a child who looked like her, but the family never had. Not once. And she was damn sure that if they’d ever caught word of someone treating her with any less respect than the rest of them, there would’ve been hell to pay.

In all honesty, Carla had never had any intention of following in their footsteps, though. Her parents needn’t have worried. Whilst she didn’t condemn what they did for business—how could she when everybody good in her life was a part of it, too?—she would’ve never had the heart to do it herself. Allegra and Michael had wanted better for her, and she was happy to oblige. With smarts, strength, and a whole load of ambition, she instead set off for law school, and it fit her like a glove. Life had blessed her in ways she could never be thankful enough for, so maybe she could start by giving a little back in defending the people who needed it most.

“Has anybody ever told you, you’re incredibly stubborn?”

“Wow, wonder where I learned it from? Look, we only just got dad back. I don’t want to lose him again. You know I always keep myself safe, and there’s no way it can be any worse than Launceston. Maybe I can even help the guys out whilst I’m over there.”

It wasn’t as if she’d never done it before.

Wearing the name Auditore or Vespucci in Sovrani circles was akin to being royalty. But whilst some played on that knowledge to prime their egos, she never had. It might’ve been one of the reasons even the lower ranks had seen her as so approachable. The reason she called so many of their loyalists friends. Michael hadn’t been too keen on that. Even from prison, he’d always made it clear that whilst he wouldn’t tell her what to do—she was an adult who could make her own decisions—he didn’t want her associating with the Sovrani any more than she already was. Even when it was just to offer a little friendly legal advice or some representation for their more minor grievances…

Carla had always been a kind soul, though, and he only had himself to blame for instilling that in her. From her mother she gained her ambition, her strength, and her smarts. From her father she gained her humility, her generosity, and her good heart. The two had always complemented each other in the most admirable way, and it was only proven by how their two daughters had turned out. Everybody who didn’t hate the Italians on principle alone adored her because it was impossible not to. And that made her so happy. She loved to be around people, she loved to be around her family, and she loved to be the person they could turn to when they needed help.

By the sounds of how things were going in London? They needed it there, too.

The fact so much of her family had uprooted itself to go there had been a difficult pill to swallow. Eventually, many of her closest friends had followed, too. It dawned on her quickly that almost everybody in her life was affiliated with the Sovrani, because people outside of it were too intimidated by her familial connections to give her a chance. Staying behind without them would be lonely. Hearing about them getting hurt without her being there to help them out, frustrating.

And that was precisely when she’d made her mind up.

Carla had no interest in war, nor did she have any real interest in leaving Launceston behind for somewhere like London. But as the people she loved started leaving the city one by one, she realised that even though she adored her life just the way it was, it was mostly because of the people in it. The sheen was dulled by the day.  

It didn’t really matter whether her parents agreed or not, and they all knew it.

As kind of a soul as she might’ve been, as the legal world already damn well knew: if she wanted something, she wouldn’t stop until she got it.

Like mother, like daughter, remember?

“You promise me you’ll come home at the first sign of trouble?”

“I promise, mom.”

“Fine. Make sure to pack an umbrella.”

SOCIAL CONNECTIONS:

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single. FAMILY: Allegra Vespucci (adoptive mother), Michael Beneventi (adoptive father), Rosa Beneventi-Vespucci (adoptive sister), an amount of cousins and second cousins so large it could only be Italian. CONNECTIONS:

Vincenzo Vespucci: Second cousin, good friend. More of a protective older brother than a cousin, but she can appreciate that he's always looking out for her in a less-invasive way than if she actually had a mob-affiliated big brother. Carla loves all her family unconditionally...but if you were allowed to have favourites, Vincenzo would definitely be hers. Though she knows he doesn't need to hear it, thus will never tell him, she worries about him now he's leading such an unpredictable city.

Greta Sorrentino: Best friend. Whilst her family is undoubtedly the biggest reason for making the trip from Launceston to London, Greta is a close second. They met on their first day of school and have been utterly inseparable ever since. Even though she took a much more involved stance with the Sovrani than Carla did, it's caused surprisingly few problems during their friendship. Greta is a little shit, but she always has her best friend to keep her in line, and everyone is grateful for it.

Aria Rossi: Good friend. Where she and Greta might be polar opposites, Carla gravitated toward Aria because of their similar nature. They're both kind-hearted souls in a world filled with growingly few, and sometimes it's refreshing just to be around somebody who isn't constantly preoccupied with the mob wars unfolding around them. They've grown so close over the years that Aria's son affectionately refers to her as 'aunt Carla'.

BASIC INFORMATION:

NAME: Paul Romano.   AGE: 63. PLACE OF BIRTH: Launceston, Massachusetts, United States. AFFILIATION: The Sovrani. OCCUPATION: Underboss. FACE CLAIM: Giancarlo Esposito. AVAILABILITY: OPEN.

(Warning: Mentions/themes of racism.)

“They’re never going to treat you the same, son.”

The words of his father were undoubtedly meant as a deterrent from trying.

As was so often the case with Paul Romano, however, being told that he couldn’t do something only made him more adamant to prove to himself that he could.

It was hypocritical of his father to discourage him from seeking Sovrani membership when his own position within the organisation was the reason he’d come to Launceston in the first place. Giovanni had served them back home in Rome, and had only made the transition to the States when he’d been summoned by the Auditores personally.

Paul always knew that even if he did make the cut, he had a hell of a man to live up to.

Growing up in Valence had proven to him that his father’s concerns weren’t entirely unwarranted, though. In spite of Giovanni’s reputation, he had been berated by many outside of the organisation for marrying an African-American woman. The way they’d treated his mother, Dorothy, was even worse. Even if he’d been too young to understand why back then, he understood that it just was, and Paul sure remembered wiping her tears when she returned from grocery shopping; once again victim to a racist tirade from strangers. The Sovrani weren’t perfect by any means, and there were still plenty of pieces of shit who had something to say about the person his father had fallen in love with, but for the most part, they were better than Valencian average. Not that it was saying much.

Maybe the idea that he’d have to work harder to prove himself just because of the colour of his skin should’ve been enough for him to seek out another life entirely. As a teen, coming to terms with the world he lived in, a part of him had almost been swayed away by the thought. But he remembered so clearly that night when everything changed. It was Bartolomeo himself who’d defended Paul’s mother from a Capo who had a few choice words to describe her, never to be repeated again. It could’ve been a slap on the wrist if the man had cared less. Instead, the future leader had broken legs that day. Used the power of his last name to strip the scum of his membership entirely. Paul never forgot how he’d walked the then teenager and his mother home, making sure they were all right before he left again.

And Paul never forgot that even though it was the kind of thing any decent human should’ve done, to stand up to a Capo in their world for a woman he hardly knew was not the easy choice.

It was hard not to respect the fact he’d made it anyway.

When Bartolomeo became the leader of the Sovrani, Paul had just entered his early twenties. Up until that point, his connections with the gang had been casual at best; mostly a result of his father’s involvement. The two older men had grown close over the years—the leader respected Giovanni more than almost all others—and as such, their family had attained a status where they’d always be looked after. Paul also knew that if he ever wanted to pursue joining the Sovrani seriously, all he would have to do was ask…and so he did.

Bartolomeo was the kind of man deserving of his respect.

Paul would spend the entirety of his service to him learning new reasons why.

The respect was always returned, and that was important to him. But as much as the leader respected him, he also made it abundantly clear that he trusted him, and that was solidified when Lucrezia Auditore returned from Rome, and entered his life in an absolute whirlwind.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” she’d scoffed, and her father had chuckled.

“Noted,” Paul had replied, with absolutely no intention of becoming one.

The newly minted Capo, aged forty-three, was one of the last to be appointed by Bartolomeo during his tenure. But the honour almost paled in comparison to being trusted to watch over his youngest daughter. Back then, they had clashed—albeit mostly one-sidedly, from the impossibly headstrong woman—and she sure hadn’t made teaching her how things ran in Launceston easy. Other things, though? Lucrezia made those come naturally.

Paul had fought against his feelings with all he had. Their very first argument (and back then, they had been many) he was sure he’d fallen in love with her right on the fucking spot. For a man who had often been on the receiving end of ‘why haven’t you settled down yet?’ comments from his colleagues, it was a bitter pill to swallow to know that the moment he could finally imagine himself with somebody, they were entirely out of his reach. Even if she hadn’t been married, if she hadn’t been the boss’s daughter, his father’s words still echoed. The Sovrani had accepted him, but he still wasn’t sure if they would’ve ever accepted that.  

In spite of it all, he was a professional; a master at compartmentalisation, and his feelings, to keep hold of a friendship that meant so much to him, were no different. Long had he been revered by his peers for his strength, his self-assuredness without arrogance, his level-head and his diplomacy. Paul was a credit to the Sovrani, and lifted by Bartolomeo as an example of all they could, and what they should, be. This might’ve stirred discontent amongst some of the aging conservative members, but they would die out eventually. Paul was honoured to be a herald of the change; a gateway experience for many other prospective members from a similar background.

He did so serving dutifully at her side.

Lucrezia was his best friend. He, her most trusted advisor. Together, they were formidable.

The Auditore introduced him to the woman who would eventually become his wife. Her husband, Antonio, would become one of his closest friends as the years passed them by. Soon, Alessia ascended to the throne, but as leader, much like her father, she too had entrusted a great deal to him. With only a few exceptions, aside from the Auditores and Vespuccis themselves, Paul was one of the most powerful members in the entire organisation, and he supposed, in a sense, his father had been right. They didn’t treat him the same. They treated him better.

For the majority of Alessia’s leadership, Lucrezia spent her time in Rome. It was a big shift for him, and he realised in missing her, that he hadn’t buried his feelings as well as he’d thought. Launceston had always been home for him, even if not for her, but he couldn’t help but feel it was a little emptier without her in it. That made it all the more unfortunate to be grateful for her return. He felt guilty for the happiness, the relief. Of course he wanted her back—he did every time she was gone—but not at the expense of Alessia’s life.

The sisters had always been close, in spite of the distance. Paul might’ve been Lucrezia’s confidant, one of the very few she would allow herself to be vulnerable around, but even he was at a loss at how to guide her through the pain. Not only was the Auditore family reeling, the Sovrani was also grieving the loss of arguably its most important and beloved leader to date. Paul found himself divide between trying to help the woman he loved, and desperately holding together the Launceston arm of the gang as the Russians began to wage an all-out assault on their existence.

But Lucrezia was strong. Perhaps more so than anybody ever gave her credit for.

Bartolomeo returned to leadership in the wake of Alessia’s death, but he knew that his daughter would be ready to step up to the plate eventually.

“I want you to be there at her side, Paul.”

“That’ll be her decision, not ours.”

But throughout the hushed conversations, Bartolomeo knew she wouldn’t choose anybody else.

When Lucrezia approached him, shortly ahead of her initiation as the Sovrani’s new leader, she had done so with a look in her eyes that wasn’t familiar to him. Not from her. Paul had witnessed leaders in the city tear themselves apart trying to avenge their losses, and with the status she was about to obtain, she would have the means to become one of them. Much like Bartolomeo had anticipated, she wanted Paul to become her underboss. And much like Bartolomeo had anticipated, he hadn’t hesitated to accept. Not only would she need somebody she trusted at her side, she would need the only person that had the ability to talk her down from doing something stupid.

The only person who had the ability to tell her no, and be heard.

Whilst his mother might’ve been opposed to this life for him in the beginning, Paul knows that both of his parents are looking down on him, immensely proud of all he has achieved.

And he’s not going to start disappointing them by fucking up now.  

SOCIAL CONNECTIONS:

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Angela Romano (wife) FAMILY: Giovanni and Dorothy Romano (parents, deceased), Giovanni Romano (son, unplayable), Anna, Lucia Romano (daughters, unplayable) CONNECTIONS:

Allegra Vespucci: Old friend. With the exception of Lucrezia, Allegra is without a doubt his dearest friend. Many find her attitude to be abrasive, and perhaps he's just learnt how to deal with it better, but they always got along like a house on fire. Her move to London was unfortunate, but it's not as though their friendship hasn't survived worse. Paul made sure to let her know she better plan on coming home to visit, because he has no intention of setting foot in London.

Antonio D'Agostino: Good friend. Conventional wisdom might have one assuming the two would never see eye-to-eye, but it simply isn't the case. Paul isn't jealous of his marriage, not as long as he makes Lucrezia happy, and he would never try to paint the man a villain to justify anything else. Their two families are close, their children are friends, and the man has become as much a staple in his life as Lucrezia. There are few he trusts more. Genuinely.

Joey Sambuco: Friend. Much as he was for the others, during the aftermath of Alessia's death, in spite of his own grief, Paul was a shoulder for Joey. The man's feelings for her were practically common knowledge, and he supposed he could relate to that. Whilst they weren't particularly close beforehand, they certainly bonded during this time, and Paul is glad to call him a friend; particularly as they now work side-by-side in their respective positions within the Sovrani.

Everyone is King in his own Home!

E che cacchio!

_____________

BASIC INFORMATION:

NAME: Rina Olivetti.  AGE: 35. PLACE OF BIRTH: Rome, Italy. AFFILIATION: The Sovrani. OCCUPATION: Giorgio Pecatti’s bodyguard. FACE CLAIM: Ísis Valverde. AVAILABILITY: OPEN.

BIOGRAPHY:

(Warning: Heavy mentions of drugs/addiction.)

"You know you’re a literal piece of shit, right?” 

“Elaborate.” 

The fact she was picking him up from the apartment he’d bought for his mistress, at two-thirty in the morning, apparently wasn’t obvious enough for him. 

“I don't know how Patrizia turns a blind eye knowing you’re doing this. I’d rip your throat out.” 

“And that’s precisely why I married her, and not you.” 

Grazie, Dio.  

They were dependent enough on each other that they might as well have been, though. From the moment he had plucked her off the rundown streets in Ostia, to the night she’d agreed to follow him to London in the same way she had everywhere since, they’d hardly been apart. It was ironic, really, that his wife seemed to have more of a problem with that than his actual girlfriends...

Whilst her turbulent start in life might’ve been a common thread between them, however, Giorgio had done her yet another kindness by keeping it quiet from the family he would eventually shape her up enough to be a part of. Back then, nearing the time when he would switch from fighting in the underground rings to becoming a fully-fledged member of the Sovrani, she had been a depressed teenager with an addiction to heroin, self-loathing, and dangerous men. The kind of men who thought they could earn some stripes with their Camorra overlords by putting competition like Pecatti in the ground.  

And yes, that had gone about as well for her boyfriend as one might've expected. 

Rina had been seventeen and terrified by what she’d witnessed. Though she was no stranger to a criminal lifestyle—she'd been running around with low-level gangsters since she was twelve, consistently forced out of her home by parents as fucked up as she was—something about him was different. When Giorgio had rounded on her, she’d attempted to fight him purely because she expected to end up right next to Francesco if she didn’t. Aching for another fix, depleted both mentally and physically, an absolute wreck of a woman; the fact she’d managed to get a hit in must’ve surprised him. 

Maybe if it hadn’t, she never would’ve stood out enough to be seen as anything other than a parasite. 

Giorgio offered to take her home after; a complicated ask, given that she usually just ended up staying with whoever was offering up more heroin for a good time. So, kindly not asking too many questions, he paid her way in one of Rome’s nicer hotels. Even bought her some fucking food. They’d hardly talked then, and she was glad for that—what the fuck would she have even said to somebody like him—but she had never been proud, and that wasn’t going to start when a generous psycho was offering her a free meal and a roof over her head. 

Eventually they parted ways. Rina wishes she’d stayed that night, but there was precisely one thing that hotel lacked, and it took priority over all others. 

Even though she had no idea he’d gone back to check on her the next day until later in their relationship, she figured it must’ve been fate they still ended up together. The Sovrani hated drugs, and that much was no secret; the Camorra were perpetually struggling to push their product in Rome under the massive weight of their presence. Rina had heard about the crews that went around beating up dealers, and shutting down drug dens. Still, the last thing she’d expected was to be face to face with him, again, less than a year later, watching as he and his friends beat the shit out of the drug dealers in the room. 

This time, however, there was a complication. 

Giorgio had made it clear he knew her. And Rina had been stupid enough to answer him back. Despite the fact she’d had nothing to do with him finding out where they were hiding their product—she hadn’t seen him since the hotel, for fuck’s sake—the men she’d been with had decided her guilt by default. How else would the Sovrani have known? Why would she be in contact with somebody like him at all? They turned on her in an instant. The only connections, the only means of survival, Rome had offered her. Paranoid, always. 

At the time she was sure he’d ruined her life. Looking back now, she realises it was instead the moment he saved it. 

That process was not an easy one, though. Especially on the days she fought it.  

Hard. 

In the beginning she’d blamed him so much she refused his help out of spite. Refused him because she had been living the way she had for almost a decade, and didn’t know how to be anything else except terrified of the change. Rina wasn’t sure when things between them got easier but they did. Maybe it was his persistence, or maybe it was because she’d never really felt like anybody had given a shit about her before, but as the months passed, she realised that even if she didn’t want to do it for herself just yet, a part of her wanted to do better for him. Rina didn’t know why he believed she could change. Should change. Some days she was angry about the burden it put on her. Eventually, though, it gave her the means to turn her life around. 

Recovery was not without its bumps in the road. But as soon as she realised that this constant need was going to last a lifetime, and that there would never be an end point where things suddenly felt better, it made her realise that if she was going to stick with her sobriety, she needed something else to focus her energy on. Giorgio had given her that by giving her himself. The Sovrani. Independence. Eventually, he would even share the one thing he was best at: fighting. It was a much healthier outlet than she’d been expecting, and true to form, as if he knew her better than she knew herself, she took to it with ease. 

Rina watched as Giorgio excelled as the years passed—both in his personal and professional life—and despite the fact many of her days still felt like she was merely surviving, it brought her some happiness to know he was doing okay. Maybe because she’d never really had family. Friends. Anybody or anything she truly cared about. It was a foreign feeling she didn’t want to lose. Eventually, when he deemed her past the riskiest parts of her recovery, he decided to help her capitalise on her talents by pushing for her as one of his bodyguards. Rina knew it was because he wanted to be able to keep her around without so many questions from the Sovrani, but it didn’t change how immensely grateful she was for the opportunity. And perhaps that was when she realised, even though her physical recovery had been immense over the years, so had her mental one.  

After that, they were rarely apart. 

They’d grown together, she supposed, because just as she wasn’t that same wreck he’d picked up off the streets, he had changed, too. Made plenty of mistakes, disappointed her, given her more reasons to love him. Enough so that eventually she would even leave Italy just so that she could remain at his side. Did she use him as a crutch some days? Sure. They both understood that. But it was always a favour returned when he needed it. And despite the impression he gave to others, those days happened. 

Rina had never imagined she would end up where she is today. Honestly, she hadn’t expected to make it past her early twenties. But now, she has friends, a purpose, things to be proud of. She survived run-ins with the French that made her question her willpower; even stayed with one, in spite of her better judgement. She’d made it through Launceston, made it through Porto Velho, and most importantly of all, on her growingly infrequent difficult days—and oh, she’s sure London will bring its fair share now she’s here—Rina still always has a reason in him to pick the right path instead of the easy one. 

SOCIAL CONNECTIONS:

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Paul-Henri Ishida (ex-boyfriend) FAMILY: None. CONNECTIONS:

Giordana Rossi: Good friend. Even though Rina wasn’t sure what to make of her when she first stepped foot in Launceston, she’s glad that she didn’t immediately write her off as a raging psychopath. Obviously, the years have taught her she is, but the older woman has learned that there is more to her than that. Probably the person she considers herself closest to after Giorgio, and she definitely appreciates their little foursome, Vincenzo included. It definitely keeps her sane when most Americans make her want to scream.

Paul-Henri Ishida: Ex-boyfriend/good friend. When she’d promised Giorgio she would stay away from the French (their taste for drugs common knowledge, and absolutely a temptation she didn’t need) she had meant it. Until she met Henri in Launceston. The only reason they’d ended their very secret relationship was because she’d moved to Porto Velho with Giorgio, but now that they’re both in London together, she’s wondering if it’s worth the risk to rekindle things with one of the few people she met in that city she truly grew to care about.

BASIC INFORMATION:

NAME: Olivia Coppola.  AGE: 29. PLACE OF BIRTH: Launceston, Massachusetts, United States. AFFILIATION: The Sovrani. The French Organization, loosely. OCCUPATION: Owner of Nomentano. FACE CLAIM: Adeline Rudolph.  AVAILABILITY: OPEN.

BIOGRAPHY:

They said that nobody dreamt of a life like theirs. 

The other women she spoke to (very much a community in their own right, no matter how much some tried to hide it) seemed to struggle.  

To be a mistress was an inherently lonely way to live, despite what the wives would guilt people into believing. They were lucky to spend dinner together more than a few nights a week, and even then, he would always return home to his family afterwards. They got secretive weekends away that usually ended up as business trips rather than the romantic vacations promised to them. Holidays were spent in solitude. Parties were attended with nobody at their side, because whilst they couldn’t claim a married man as their own, they sure weren’t allowed to show up with anyone else, either. Olivia could still remember being told by a woman who had been doing the same damn thing for two decades that they were property to be paraded more than they were half of a functioning relationship. 

So why the fuck did they stay if they hated it so much? 

Olivia never understood the negativity. Even when they patronised her, saying she was just young. 

Eventually she would want children, they told her. Eventually she would want to get married to Giorgio, and that was never going to be on the cards, no matter how much she wanted it. 

Sounded to her like they were fucking projecting. 

If she was going to pick any man to fall helplessly in love with, it sure as hell wasn’t going to be Giorgio Pecatti. Whilst he certainly ranked amongst the most charming men she’d ever met, the very fact they were together at all proved that he was a piece of human garbage. Olivia enjoyed what they had. She loved him without being in love with him. But she was not the type to eventually serve him the ‘it’s me or her’ ultimatum, and perhaps, that’s exactly why of all the women he saw behind his wife’s back, she was his favourite. 

The least complicated, and the most loyal. 

To his money, especially.  

That had been the initial draw. When they’d first started dating, not long after he’d arrived in Launceston, Olivia had been as close to a peasant as one could come in a place like Valence. Koreans were treated like the scum of the earth in their city, and her mother was too proud of her heritage for anyone’s taste. To the people of Little Italy, though, they somehow hated people like her more for tainting the fucking bloodline. Olivia got the feeling they wished any outside of their shitty Italian circles—despite the fact her father was from Naples—kept to themselves. They wanted pure Italians, and the only thing worse than a pure Korean were Korean genes watering down their marinara blood. Dicks. 

Still, her father had always supported his family in the face of discrimination. Giorgio had been unreasonably kind to her, in spite of it all, too. Olivia hadn’t had much of that in life.  

Maybe that was why she cared even though she knew she shouldn’t have. 

Olivia knew he had a family on the other side of the country. Maybe if she was a better person, she would have felt guilty about it. Sometimes, Giorgio spoke of them, though not often, and she always wondered if perhaps his blatant loneliness was the reason their one drunken ‘no strings attached’ night at the bar she worked turned into a reoccurring thing. Not that she was complaining. Olivia did not oppose his company in the slightest, maybe because she was lonely, too. For all the shitty men she’d had in her life, at least he treated her well. Looked after her when life seemed intent on keeping her the fuck down. 

For the two years Patrizia was absent, even when Giorgio had other women in his life, she was his priority. If he needed a date for a party, or he needed company to show off when he and Vincenzo paid visits back to Italy, he turned to his favourite. Most of his friends adored her. Whilst she was smart enough to know her place, she had just enough of a sassy spark to keep them interested. Giorgio bought her an expensive apartment near the beach. Designer clothes, handbags, a new car. Most importantly, though, she knew that if she ever had a fucking problem, with anything or anyone, he could always make it go away. 

For a woman who had spent all of her life until him with nothing, it soon became addictive. 

Even her parents eventually showed concern for her new lifestyle; particularly a penchant for partying she’d picked up as a means to flash her spending money. Anderson Island had always been her favourite part of Launceston, but it was also, rather notoriously, territory of the French Organization. They caused no issues. Olivia had already been briefed that they were allies, and she would always be safe there. But the cocaine they funnelled into the area absolutely did become a problem. So did some of their men she sought the company of. Any drugs were a no-go so far as the Italians went. If you weren’t clean, they kicked you the fuck out, no questions, no excuses. She knew all of that. Had been warned.  

But she just couldn’t help herself...

Hiding it from Giorgio was easy when he was so frequently absent. His nosy fucking bodyguard, though—one she suspected he tasked with keeping an eye on her specifically—picked up on her cocaine problem like a damn sniffer dog. Olivia didn’t appreciate the threats to stop, mostly because she knew that if push came to shove, her boyfriend would choose Rina over her. In the beginning she’d offered help, but why the fuck would she take it when she was having such a good time? 

Maybe, if she’d been smart, Olivia would’ve declined the offer to join him in London. 

Sorted herself out. 

She could’ve been rid of her watchful glare. The expectations and rules. Him. 

It also soon became apparent that Patrizia knew about their affair, and despite the fact his wife claimed she was ‘not happy, but understanding’ so long as they kept it discreet, she wondered if she’d spend most of the time in the new city looking over her shoulder. But reality quickly set in. Olivia’s life for the past two years had been built around him. Everything she owned, the lifestyle she had cultivated, the people she called friends; all because of Giorgio and his influence. How could she let it all go? What the fuck was she supposed to do with her life if she did? What did she have without him?

Evidently, he didn’t want to be without her, though, and that meant more than she’d expected it to. Even with his wife back in his life, he was still making time for her...  

Nomentano had been the same of the very bar they’d met at in Launceston. Foolish sentimentality on his part, she supposed, but still sweet enough that she wondered if there was more to it than an excuse to keep her around. Even when he had provided her with everything she’d needed, Olivia had never stopped working, and to be able to have her own place in London was something she never could have imagined. Not only was it the gift to end all gifts, but if things really did go south and she had to end things between them, she suspected the man cared just enough to let her keep it—a means to stand on her own two feet without him. 

Granted, with many reservations still nagging, she is not sure what to expect from the new city. Olivia doesn’t know what the declining relationships with Rina and Patrizia mean for her future. But, once again, Giorgio has done just enough to keep her wrapped around his little finger, and she can’t find a good enough reason to say no to a man she is, for perhaps the first time in their relationship, feeling genuinely indebted to. 

SOCIAL CONNECTIONS:

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Giorgio Pecatti (boyfriend) FAMILY: None playable. CONNECTIONS:

Alexandre Toussaint: Good friend. They first met in Launceston just over a year ago, and hit it off almost immediately. If she ventured to Anderson Island, it was usually for him. Though discouraged from keeping French Organization loyalists as company, especially ones who fit all of the stereotypes like he did, it wasn’t technically a no. Still, Olivia kept their friendship on the down-low from her Italian friends. Knowing Alex had already made the move to London certainly eased some of her hesitations about leaving home. It’s also something of a relief to know that she’s still going to be able to get herself a reliable fix, even in a new city...

Cristiano Messina: Friend. Perhaps her favourite of all those Giorgio’s introduced her to. Though most of his friends keep her at arm’s length, preferring instead to show loyalty to Patrizia (even if they like Olivia’s company, too) Cristiano never chose sides. If things between herself and Giorgio ever become turbulent, she knows that he’s always there for her. It’s certainly an unexpected friendship, and she’s heard things about the kind of things he does for the Sovrani that makes her wonder if keeping him close is wise, but she can’t help it. Olivia adores him, and doesn’t see that changing any time soon.

BASIC INFORMATION:

NAME: Vincenzo Vespucci. AGE: 44. PLACE OF BIRTH: Rome, Italy. AFFILIATION: The Sovrani. OCCUPATION: Head of London. FACE CLAIM: DJ Cotrona. AVAILABILITY: TAKEN.

BIOGRAPHY:

It was always supposed to be Daniele. The man had been built to withstand the weight of Rome’s arm of the Sovrani squarely on his shoulders, just as their uncle, Lorenzo—self-proclaimed King of the Eternal City—had always planned. The Sovrani’s underboss had seen potential in Vincenzo’s big brother right from the start, and with no son of his own, it fell to Arlo’s children to carry on the bloodline leadership. Perhaps it should have offended him that he’d never been considered for inheriting the title, but back then, he’d never understood how people could willingly embrace such a lifestyle, anyway. 

So, he didn’t. 

With Daniele so clearly suited for the role laid out for him, Vincenzo had never felt any of the same pressures that came with the Sovrani’s lifestyle. If anything, in hindsight, whilst at the time they seemed supportive, he realizes it’s more likely they were too focused on his brother to care how he chose to direct his life. Whilst not always a criminal, Vincenzo was a fighter; it had been such a normal part of the world around him, embracing it had seemed natural. Sparring with Daniele and his other friends was one thing, but he kept the rest for the boxing ring and avoided taking it to the streets. And he was good.  

When he took his skills and embraced the sport on a professional level, it became clear to him it was the first time his father was truly proud of him. Vincenzo didn’t know whether the revelation offered pain or relief. Soon after, he took to the international circuit, and left Rome and the Sovrani for good. 

Or so he thought...

Despite his absence, Vincenzo kept in close contact with his family. That was something you never turned your back on—whether you wanted a part in the organization, or not. So, when he’d heard of his brother’s fatal street racing collision, he’d been utterly heartbroken. Daniele had been the most important person in his life. He’d taught him how to be a man in ways his father never made the effort to try. Vincenzo bailed on one of the most important fights of his highly successful career, and returned home to Italy immediately.  

The family was in absolute disarray. Loss of a loved one aside, they had been grooming this man for the best part of two decades to one day run things, and now he was gone. Vincenzo couldn’t help but feel a certain level of responsibility. As though, by steering his life away from the Sovrani, he was letting down the Vespucci name, especially now they were fresh out of options, and wholly relying on him to step up to take his brother’s place. Crime would never have been his first choice, but family was, and he would never leave his hanging. When his father attempted to dissuade him—genuinely supportive, this time, of his life away from Rome—it tipped him over the edge.  

He could do this. He could want it if he willed it enough. 

Vincenzo started things off running a small crew, mostly focused on protection rackets and illegal gambling in one of the kinder corners of the city. With the right support, it was just uneventful enough for him to find his footing in an utterly foreign landscape. As it turned out, this world really was in his blood. Vincenzo took to the work with ease. He even carried on fighting in the underground circuits to keep his skill-set fresh. During this time, he met his best friend, Giorgio Pecatti, a man who was referred to in their business as ‘The Gentleman.’ Together, they worked their way up through the ranks—until they were taking orders from his uncle directly—as though they’d been born for it. One of them had, after all...  

Just as it felt like he was finally finding his rhythm, the head of their organization, his cousin, Alessia Auditore, completely flipped his world upside down all over again. Only this time, he couldn’t help but feel that, perhaps, it was going to be a good thing. 

The Auditores were planning on making a push for Porto Velho. 

They needed someone to take charge. 

Launceston had always been too unpredictable to be left to the inexperienced, and Alessia knew she couldn’t abandon the Sovrani stronghold there, but Vincenzo had made big enough waves in Rome for her to take note, and when she offered him the chance to expand their business into California, he obliged. If he was going to learn how to lead Rome one day, running a city himself would be the only real way to prepare himself. So, with Giorgio and a few other of his most trusted companions at his side, he made his way to the city that would be his home until the eventual assassination of the woman who had made it all possible. 

Everything they’d achieved in Porto seemed to unravel in an instant. 

It was hard not to blame himself. 

Whilst the battle between the French and the Rutherfords was so massive it was beyond Italian control, perhaps if he had done something—anything—differently, the leader of the Auditore family, a woman who’d entrusted him with a huge responsibility when he maybe hadn’t deserved it, wouldn’t have met her end during her visit to the city. 

They all suspected the Russians had been involved with her murder, but they couldn’t prove it. 

But they no longer cared for the presence of evidence.  

Bitter wars between the Russians and Italians had been raging in Launceston for longer than he’d been alive, but by God, when he took the first available flight back to that shit hole of a city, he was ready to fight with a rage so caustic, one could’ve easily assumed he’d suffered at their hands personally. Vincenzo rescinded his leadership of Porto Velho, despite protests from Alessia’s father, his uncle Bartolomeo, who was adamant that he had been doing everything right. He didn’t feel worthy of the title after allowing that to happen on his watch. To the woman who had given him the chance in the first place.  

In Launceston, he was no longer bound by the responsibilities of setting an example to subordinates. Vincenzo was just like everybody else; ready to murder any Russian he could get his fucking hands on and by any means necessary. All he’d wanted to do was prove himself worthy of her faith in his abilities, and they’d taken both it, and her, away from him. 

For almost two years, he waged an ultra-violent campaign against anybody who dared affiliate with the Vorshevsky family. Vincenzo was not alone in his pursuits. 

Launceston had never seen darker days, and whilst he couldn’t attest to that personally, those who had known nothing else but the city that was now burning realised that this time was different from the others. The Sovrani were ready to end things, once and for all. It was no longer about fighting over business or territory. It was about eradicating a family that had plagued them since they’d made the original journey from Russia. 

When it became apparent said Russians had murdered Alessia’s nephew, Vinnie, during their own expansion to London, it was a twist of the knife.

There was only one thing to be done.

Whilst he might’ve fucked up leading Porto Velho to Italian dominance, Vincenzo doesn’t plan on making the same mistake twice. Convincing Bartolomeo that sending a small gang of Sovrani members to London both to aid their French allies, and prove to the Russians that there is nowhere on the face of the Earth they can hide from their greatest enemy, had proven to be far easier than he’d expected. What hadn’t been expected was for Bartolomeo to give him full autonomy on how to deal with it. So stricken by grief at the loss of his eldest daughter, the old man no longer cared how the Vorshevskys were dealt with so long as they were. 

Vincenzo won’t let down another Auditore who is placing their faith in him. 

The few years spent in Launceston changed him irreparably, but arguably set him up perfectly to deal with the city that is now in front of him. It fuelled his anger to a point of no return. Made him bitter beyond his years. Cold. The violence was no longer sport, but a necessity. In their attempts to rid their city of a monster, the Russians had created an entirely new one, and Vincenzo will spend every waking moment in London making sure that they fucking regret it.  

SOCIAL CONNECTIONS:

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single. FAMILY: Arlo Vespucci (father, unplayable), Daniele Vespucci (brother, deceased), Lorenzo Vespucci (uncle, unplayable), Bartolomeo Auditore (uncle, unplayable), Alessia Auditore (cousin, deceased), Vito Auditore (cousin, deceased), Lucrezia Auditore, Mauro Auditore (cousins, unplayable) CONNECTIONS:

Giorgio Pecatti: Best friend. Whilst they originally met through the rampant underground fighting scene in Rome, it was by introduction to the Sovrani that Vincenzo truly came to trust him. Though they seem polar opposites, Giorgio ever the outgoing and charming compared to his subdued nature, they complement each other well, both personally and professionally. If there is one person he will drag with him all the way to the top of Rome if he gets there, it’s Giorgio.

Giordana Rossi: Good friend. Though compared to his friendship with Giorgio which has been over fifteen years in the making, their relationship seems short, it doesn’t mean he trusts her any less. Vincenzo was wary of those in Launceston at first (perhaps some Roman snobbery on his part) but she proved above all others that those stateside were just as important to the Sovrani as those back in Italy. When he told her he wouldn’t have gone to London without her, he meant it.

Kathleen Zhao: Friend. Vincenzo has never been one for making connections with those outside of the Sovrani, but he had met her as a result of her relationship with one of Alessia Auditore’s closest friends, and despite the fact they are no longer together, Vincenzo respects Dante enough to keep an eye out for her in London. Though she isn’t an Italian, she was always supportive and respectful of their family, so the Sovrani will look out for her like she’s one.

BASIC INFORMATION:

NAME: David Pavoncello. AGE: 32. PLACE OF BIRTH: Launceston, Massachusetts, United States. AFFILIATION: The Sovrani. OCCUPATION: Loyalist. FACE CLAIM: Alex Landi. AVAILABILITY: OPEN. 

BIOGRAPHY:

Men like Corrado Pavoncello were not the type expected to turn. 

They worked hard. They were loyal. They respected their chain of command. 

They kept their fucking mouths shut.   

David had placed his father on an unassailable pedestal for as long as he’d understood the kind of man he was; typical of most young boys in his position, influenced by the kind of neighbourhood they called home. The stories of the part the Capo played in Launceston’s arm of the Sovrani were as legendary amongst the people of Little Italy as they were the ranks of the organization itself. It stood to reason that he could only be proud of a man who had achieved so much. 

For him to eventually turn his back on everything he'd worked for was incomprehensible. 

Not nearly as much as betraying those who had become their family, though. 

David had been eighteen years old when his father was exposed as an FBI informant, and he thanks God to this day that the revelation came when he was mature enough to make his own sane decisions. When Corrado finally testified against his Italian brothers in court, the evidence he gave put twenty-six Sovrani loyalists, of varying hierarchal roles, behind bars; some for far more years than they had left. So, when the man had begged his son to follow the rest of their family into the witness protection program—his Korean mother, who had always been scornful of his mafia ties, included—David had almost spat in the rat’s face. 

Did he have no self-respect? No conscience?  

Nothing came close to describing David’s blistering anger toward his family, but the fact that after they finally moved away, he didn't even attempt to pursue seeing his parents or two brothers ever again, did a damn good job of showing it.  

The inhabitants of Valence seemed shocked that he’d remained in Launceston after a case that’d decimated the very people he’d stayed for. The thought the Auditore family might try to punish him because they couldn’t get to his father had crossed his mind. Not that he blamed them. When his Godfather, Lorenzo Vespucci, and the head of the Sovrani, Alessia Auditore, came forward and made clear any acts against him were forbidden, however, not only was he overcome with relief, but similarly, understood without doubt that he had made the right decision in choosing this family over the pathetic one that had abandoned them. 

Just because the leadership had a ‘he shouldn’t pay for the sins of his father’ attitude, however, didn’t mean that everybody in the lower ranks felt the same way. 

It wasn’t lost on him that there were people who had close and personal connections to those his father had put behind bars. Whilst it wasn’t his fault, grief was well known for making people act irrationally. David knew that he could’ve gone to Alessia about the savage beatings he’d received if he’d wanted to, but he never did. What would be gained by alienating his fellow Sovrani further? Unlike his father, he would never be a rat. 

Shedding the looming shadow of what Corrado had done was difficult, but as David threw everything had into the Sovrani’s war against the Russians, he did well to quiet the majority of his doubters. The man was a fighter through and through because in defence of himself in the wake of his father’s reputation, he’d had to be. Facing off with most of the Russians was not a job many jumped at, but in an attempt to prove he was worthy of the second chance given to him, he would take any opportunity thrown his way to show he was the best fucking asset at their disposal. Did it often get him into trouble? Yes. The times the Russians had almost sent him to an early grave (though he usually made sure he had a few enemies for company) were too many to count. But as he continued to fight for Alessia, the woman who had showed faith in him when nobody else wanted to, things slowly but surely began to turn around. 

People started to see him as his own person. 

Not the son of a piece of shit who’d betrayed them all. David included. 

For seven years, he was a beacon of hard work and unwavering loyalty to the cause. For a while, there had even been talks about him joining a select group chosen to head up the Italian expansion to the Californian city of Porto Velho. A part of him had considered the idea. Though things in Launceston had undoubtedly gotten easier over the years, around every corner seemed to be a reminder of the life he’d had before, and whilst he didn’t miss his piece of shit father in the slightest, the idea of what they could’ve been haunted him terribly. Ultimately, though, David chose to remain in the city with Alessia; the woman who had taken on a maternal role for him in the wake of the one who had abandoned him. 

When she’d headed to Porto Velho on a business trip, ready to support the French in the opening of their impressive hotel, nobody had expected that she wouldn’t come back.  

The woman had been executed outside of the party like she was a fucking animal. 

Though the Italians had no real proof that the Russians were behind the assassination—particularly when they weren’t known for having a presence in California at all—it was the assumption they jumped to without hesitation. How many times had they already tried to murder her? The fact that they’d finally succeeded shook the entire family to its core; those with a personal connection to the woman, like David, most of all. Alessia had so thoroughly made the Sovrani her own, it was hard to imagine how it would exist in her absence. The stunned silence didn’t last long, though, and the Russians soon felt it. 

If they thought their wars with the Italians had been bad before, they quickly realised otherwise. 

With Alessia’s grieving father then at the helm, the Sovrani stopped at nothing to punish the Russians for what they’d done. Whilst they would’ve once attempted to keep things discreet for the sake of their reputation, they were maiming and murdering any Russian they could get their hands on in the streets without any care for the repercussions. David would've done anything asked of him. Assassination, battery, arson, he didn’t give a shit as long as it was punishing them. Losing Alessia had hurt, and as it turned out, the best way to quell the pain was to watch a Russian fucking bleed. 

It has now been four years since her death, and animosity between the two sides has only worsened. Alessia’s sister eventually took over as their leader, but rather than returning to a similarly careful and calculated way of running things, she seems as hell-bent as any of them to not only fight the Russians for their business, but exterminate all of those who dared breathe in her sister’s city. When news hit that another member of the Auditore family had been murdered by the Russians, this time in London, it was as if she’d snapped entirely. 

The order of an assault was instantaneous. 

Almost as soon as the move to London was mentioned, David volunteered. 

Unlike his initial thoughts with regards to Porto Velho, this time, he doesn’t give a shit about escaping the reputation of his father. In the years since their boss’s death, he’s more than earned his stripes. David let Alessia down once before by declining to take up her offer to follow to California, and perhaps, if he hadn’t, they never would’ve lost her at all. It's impossible to fix the past, but he knows how important it is to be a part of whatever future they’re planning in London. The Russians in Launceston know that their time is limited. Now, it’s time to show them that no matter where they go, the Sovrani will always be right behind them, ready to finish the job. 

SOCIAL CONNECTIONS:

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single. FAMILY: Corrado Pavoncello (father, unplayable), Unnamed mother, brothers (unplayable), Lorenzo Vespucci (Godfather) CONNECTIONS:

Alessandro Elsayed: Best friend. In an organization all about being the most Italian Italian possible, meeting somebody else with a foreign parent was a relief. Though Alessandro wasn’t protected by an Italian surname in the same way David was, neither were completely spared the very small, elitist minority who still believed that the Sovrani should be Italian only. Though not the nicest thing to bond over, he’s glad they did. Alessandro never judged him for the shit his father pulled, and David will never forget that. He sure fills the void for the brothers he lost. 

Giordana Rossi: Good friend. If there was a duo that would be sure to have any Russian pissing their pants and running in the opposite direction, it’s these two. Giordi had all the violence and skill, and he had all the fucking rage. Though their friendship seemed to sit on the backburner as she grew closer to Giorgio and Vincenzo, he’s hoping that now they’re back together in London, they can go back to the good old days of hunting together. 

BASIC INFORMATION:

NAME: Giorgio Pecatti.  AGE: 45. PLACE OF BIRTH: Rome, Italy. AFFILIATION: The Sovrani. OCCUPATION: Underboss of London. FACE CLAIM: Tom Ellis. AVAILABILITY: TAKEN.

BIOGRAPHY:

(Warning: Brief mentions of childhood violence. Nothing explicit.)

Starting out life as a fucking peasant really did have a way of sticking with you. 

Of course, nobody would know it to look at him now. Giorgio Pecatti epitomised Italian class in its highest form; well-groomed, spoken like true a gentleman, and out-dressed only by the Prada Prince Cristiano, himself. Even his wife was the pinnacle of their city’s high society. The man existed as a perfect representation of what was expected of the Sovrani in Rome—surface level and beyond—and as such, was content to set an example to those who served underneath him. 

Nobody knew it to look at him now, and that was exactly the fucking point.  

If he could bleach his mind of his start in life, he would’ve done so without hesitation. Coming from a shitty background didn’t make you special in their world. Many looked to crime as a means to support themselves because it was the only option their circumstances afforded them. Most of those with tragic backstories liked to credit their bad experiences with turning them into the kind of person suited for the job. Aw, it made them stronger. Fuck that. Giorgio was strong long before his father spent his childhood years attempting to beat the shit out of him. Giorgio was strong long before his crackhead of a mother tried to sell him to some foreigners to scrape together enough money for her next fix.  

If he hadn’t been strong, he never would’ve survived in the first place. 

All that shit did for him was cause him pain. 

Giorgio took to a life on the streets because it was better than being at home with two parents who saw him as the biggest burden God had ever cursed them with. Before he was even ten years old, he’d do whatever it took to scrape together enough lira for a decent meal. The Sovrani wasn’t a fucking day care, but as soon as the little boy with the matchsticks was old enough to be of use to them, you best believe they pulled him in to try and use his misfortune for their own profit. It wasn’t pretty, but it’d served them well over the years. 

Truth be told, Giorgio never took much to the criminal lifestyle back then. He was too angry, too erratic; caused more problems with their businesses than good despite the fact all those of import who met the man seemed excited about his potential. When he was nineteen years old, he finally distanced himself from their work on the streets all together, and instead used the money he’d earned with the Sovrani, and experience he’d gained pummelling the shit out of his oxygen wasting father, to fight for them in the rampant underground boxing rings. Though the Sovrani didn’t organise the fights, they always ran the books. Having good men in there, putting on a decent show, kept their standing solid. 

Over the years, the work he put in earned him a reputation.  

Giorgio was a savage bastard in the ring, and anybody who had ever seen him fight approached a match up with caution. The Italian always fought fair because it made taking down an opponent that much more satisfying; though admittedly, the same could not be said for the frequent altercations he found himself a part of on the streets of Rome. People were both scared and in awe of him. They looked at him differently when they passed him because he had proven he was worthy of their respect. It was a feeling that never really left the child in him, who had never been respected for a moment in his fucking life. That, and that alone, was what finally mellowed him out enough to become exactly the man the higher ups had always seen him as. To finally tap into his desire to become a member of the Sovrani. 

It wasn’t until his late twenties that he switched his focus from fighting for himself, to fighting for them. 

A few years later, and the death of the man pegged to be the future leader had him crossing paths with the person who would eventually become his best friend. Daniele had been their heir, but lucky for the Vespucci family, they had Vincenzo for a spare. Giorgio didn’t know what to make of him at first. The man was obviously wounded by the loss of his brother, and crippled by the expectation weighing heavy above him. Pecatti, on the other hand, had already found his stride. He was renowned amongst the Sovrani for being a diplomatic; carefully spoken, witty, and charming enough to get what he wanted out of people with words before fists. Failing that, people were well aware that if you were unlucky enough to push him too far—though it did take a lot for his temper to snap—he was a vicious fucking animal who would tear you to shreds.  

The two of them worked their way up through the ranks of Vincenzo’s family as an inseparable duo until they were taking orders from Lorenzo himself. During this time, his far-reaching and well-respected name earned him friends, fame, and even a perfect wife looking to slight her above-board family. Giorgio was everything the Italians looked for in a soldier—loyal to the cause and to God and to the family. He was traditional, dutiful, intelligent when it came to the kind of people they had to deal with. His fellow Sovrani either worshipped him because he was everything their family looked for in a member, or despised him because he’d set a benchmark so high, they could never hope to meet it.  

Giorgio unashamedly embraced the life he’d made for himself.  

Started from the fucking bottom, and now he was married with two daughters, had a villa in Sicily, and boasted more money than he could’ve imagined possible back when he was struggling. Most of the Made Men who came from money didn’t care half as much about the material benefits their lifestyle offered, but as Giorgio hadn’t had anything he’d needed growing up—let alone something to be considered a luxury—he was intent on making the most of it. Some thought it appeared smug, but the one thing that’d never left him after all the years was that he didn’t give a fuck about those who criticised him. The only opinions of worth came from Lorenzo, Vincenzo, and God.  

Though there had been talk about him making capo, a move to Porto Velho would offer both himself and his best friend opportunities beyond their years. Alessia Auditore needed somebody to take point in California, and Vincenzo was her first choice for leader. It came as a surprise to nobody that the Vespucci heir wanted Giorgio to be his right hand in the new venture. Despite the initial protests from his wife—an important member of the Sovrani in her own right—eventually even she saw the benefits of the move. So, like the loyal best friend he was, Giorgio left his home city for the first time ever, and followed.  

Until the death of Alessia Auditore, they had been gearing up to fucking steam roll the place. 

Losing her changed things, though. 

Full of blame for failures he perceived as his own, after her assassination, Vincenzo headed back to Launceston with nothing on his mind but war. All of the Italians wanted to see the Russians pay for what had happened to their boss, but aside from her father, none of them seemed as torn up over what’d happened as her cousin. The offer to remain behind as the head of Porto Velho was given to him, but there was no way in hell he was going to let his brother butcher his way through the Kurylenko family without him. After several blistering arguments—although that seemed to be half of their marriage these days—Patrizia stayed behind with his two girls to keep things steady in California. Distance might’ve been helpful for his relationship with his wife, but damn, he missed his kids.  

A city in wartime was nothing either of them had experienced before and it took some adjusting to. Rome was peaceful because it was theirs. In Launceston, however, three of the most formidable leaders were now dead—Alessia Auditore, Nicolas St. Clair, and Aleksandr Vorshevsky—and the entire city was attempting to burn itself to the ground at the brink of a new power struggle. The things they experienced were enough to test the most hardened of men, and even Giorgio, who absolutely considered himself one of the strongest men they had mentally, saw things he wished he could un-see.  

It made him realise that no matter how much he missed his children, he was glad he hadn’t brought them into the middle of this. 

For two years, Giorgio assisted in the violent anti-Russian campaign, fighting alongside fellow Romans, the Sovrani of Launceston, members of New York’s Five Families, and even the fucking French. It was becoming clearer by the day that this was no longer about regaining the control the Sovrani had once enjoyed. It was about eradicating the Russians all together. Giorgio had never had a personal investment when it came to their shitty family, but the time he spent in Launceston was enough to make him despise them almost as much as someone who’d been suffering at their hands for years. They were animals.  

When they took the life of another Auditore, this time in London of all places, Vincenzo was the first to petition Bartolomeo Auditore to follow them there, too. This time, it was even a move Giorgio and his wife could agree on. As was always the plan in Porto Velho, the two men will once again head up a city as their own. This time, though, there will be no mistakes. Whilst he’s under no illusions it will be easy—just because the place isn’t as bad as Launceston, doesn’t mean it’s going to be safe—he can feel so much anger amongst his fellow Italians that deep down, he knows it’s only a matter of time until London's streets are soaked with blood in a way reminiscent of the city they’re leaving behind... 

SOCIAL CONNECTIONS:

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Patrizia Pecatti (wife), Olivia Coppola (girlfriend) FAMILY: Anna, Sofia Pecatti (daughters, unplayable) CONNECTIONS:

Vincenzo Vespucci: Best friend. There is nothing, and he cannot stress this enough, that he wouldn’t do for this man. It’s not out of debt, or obligation, or because he’s the eventual heir to the Sovrani throne in Rome, but because he’s the most decent human being Giorgio has ever fucking met. For someone who never had family growing up, it’s nice to know that he’s found some now. Giorgio will love him until the end, and there will never be a time in London, nor anywhere else for that matter, where he doesn’t have his brother’s back.

Rina Olivetti: Good friend. Plucking her off the streets of Rome had been a rare act of sentimentality. Her pathetic start in life reminded him of his own, and there was something about her, unlike all the others who had come and gone before, that made him want to make the effort to help. Though Giorgio doesn’t know why she was different, he does know that he’s glad he did it. Over the years, Rina has been nothing but a true and loyal friend to him, and if he has to trust anybody to have his back in this new city, he’s glad that it’s her. 

Giordana Rossi: Good friend. As much as he adores Vincenzo, sometimes he can be a little quiet and cold in comparison to Giorgio’s outgoing and gregarious self. Much like his relationship with Cristiano, he appreciates spending time with her socially because she’s fucking fun to be around, and with how shit things can get in their line of work, having somebody who can make your shitty days a little better is invaluable. Giorgio knows that like him, she’ll always have Vincenzo’s back, and he finds some comfort in knowing that if anything happens to him, she’ll be there for the brother he leaves behind.

Cristiano Messina: Good friend. Giorgio didn’t meet him until he moved to Launceston, but damn he’s glad he did. The fact the man is one of the best he’s ever met at his chosen profession is something to revere in itself, but as a person, Giorgio is sure he’s never known anyone more entertaining. Share some alcohol between the two of them, and their witty, sharp-tongued double act is enough to keep people laughing for hours. Vincenzo is too humble. Giorgio is grateful that Cristiano can also appreciate the finer things in life.