Vincenzo Vespucci attends Valentineâs Day @ The Barbican Centre.
Date: Friday, February 13th, 2026.
Escorting: nil.
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@vinnievespucci
Vincenzo Vespucci attends Valentineâs Day @ The Barbican Centre.
Date: Friday, February 13th, 2026.
Escorting: nil.
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Three hate fucks he'd love to be involved in?
To state the obvious, Vinnie wouldn't hate fuck anyone. Currently, he doesn't even fuck the women he is interested in... But...
Lyudmila, Izabele, Viktorya and a bonus mention for Yulia. I can't imagine he'd leave them alive though, he prefers his Russians decapitated, after all.
@viktoriya-kurylenko @yulivorshevsky @milaxkorshunova @the-izabele-anasenko
Name three women he has a lot of time for in London?
His own people aside - Giordi, Gianna, Carla, Rina and Olivia the obvious choice.
Amélie, Kathleen and Eleanor.
@amescastaignede @kathleenzhao @eleanorxshipley
Gianna: If you're looking to talk, I can make time. Gianna: But if this is because of guilt, there's no need. If it's because you blame yourself, I don't. Gianna: There are probably some things we should discuss, like whether me staying is the right call, though, so perhaps we should start there.
Vinnie: I don't make a habit of forcing any of my guilt or blame on others, I would't burden you with either Vinnie: I agree, we should start there Vinnie: Perhaps start over Vinnie: Whenever you're free, and comfortable. Let me know, I'll find you.
Knocks weren't foreign anymore. Less persistent lately, but they hadn't entirely ceased despite how Giordana wished those responsible might grow weary of going unanswered. Out on a job, out on a walk, whatever excuse to turn down their attempts at reaching her. Every single time they turned to leave, she felt a dull ache in the very bellows of her chest. Not so dissimilar to all the previous incidents, she nearly feigned being away this time as well, but something about it felt different. More forceful. Insistent.
Perhaps that was simply her imagination at play.
Still, she padded towards the peephole with little question as to who stood on the other side. It pulled back almost instinctively, her hands going through the motions before her mind had the good sense to catch up and prevent the barrier from opening at all. Bright eyes glanced towards Vincenzo's intentionally placed boot with chagrin before flickering up to his face.
"ââAbout?"
Flippant as that response might be, Giordana stood back to allow her closest friend entry and quietly shut the door behind him. Their proximity had shifted, but there still existed her self-imposed ocean between the once inseparable pair. A distance made all the more miserable because, at her core, she missed him. Giorgio and Rina, too. How did one even begin to parse that when every minute in their presence felt akin to the deepest betrayal?
"Pretty sure whatever it is could've been an email."
"Don't," It's immediate, but it doesn't hold the edge that it could as he shifts through the open door watching as she closes it from mere feet away. Not in an effort to crowd her in any sense, but allowing Giordana to wriggle free of his scrutiny was one way to lose this battle, and in truth, he didn't have the strength to do that. "Don't give me the run-around, Giordi," there's a tilted plea in his voice that he'd felt on the way over, hoping that something would shift and allow the woman before him to trust him with whatever it was that plagued her enough to cause such a distance they'd never really suffered before. He'd thought that perhaps he'd stifled it enough, but now that he was here, the sharp edge of her wit felt like a defense mechanism he couldn't stomach. "Please, I'm on the brink of fucking up this alliance with the French I have no idea if Laurent is going to make it through, Dante at my fucking door and I'm still not even sure if Gio can look me in the eyes right now. Please..." All the while, the constantly morphing gesture of his hands makes it all the more obvious that Vincenzo may not be handling the bulk of his responsibilities as easily as he usually did, "I know something is wrong."
"You haven't scared any of the others to the point of pissing themselves in weeks. You haven't spoken to me in what feels like even longer, nothing more than is necessary to know that your alive." "I know you," finally he steps back enough to allow her the room to pass, if she wishes, "Why aren't you talking to me?" And it wasn't the lack of attention from her that made it impossible to stomach, rather, it wasn't like them. Everything about London had torn strings loose between the three of them that had never even frayed slightly prior. "I'm worried, so talk to me. Please, talk to me. Maybe I can do something right."
Vin đ± Gianna
@gianna-palazzolo Vin: I know that there is a lot I need to make up for and I don't have much of a right to ask for your time Vin: but if you're willing, I'd like to try
Vin đ± Gio
@giorgiopecatti Vin: we need to talk Vin: alone Vin: give me a time and place
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@vinnievespucci Location: Vespucci's. Dated: 13/9/24.
"I don't typically like to show up unannounced, but given the circumstances..."
Given the circumstances, it was a miracle his tone held any formality at all.
To say he was furious was an understatement. Had even an ounce of it been directed at the man stood before him, the exchange would've been doomed from the start. As it were, in spite of the others throwing blame their way for the events that'd transpired at the post-awards party, Dante refrained from passing judgement. Yes, it could've been more tactful, and yes, it could've been timed better, but it was hardly a first account of the Sovrani provoking the Russians. To hang everything that'd happened sinceâto assign sin to Vespucci for what'd happened at the hands of the Russiansâdid little more than sow discontent in precisely the way Vorshevsky would've wanted.
And since the fuck was done taking his shot at the Sovrani alliance with the French, now he was attempting to strip away one more of their few remaining partners.
Dante adjusted his suit jacket subtly, eyes scanning a room that was very much looking on in keen interest. It wasn't every day the future head of the Costa Nostra strolled up to the future underboss of the Sovrani right in front of them.
"A word? Privately."
In truth, Vincenzo almost expected the arrival to come much sooner. The backlash he'd worn for the events following the award ceremony had done little more than force the anger within him to fester. Given, not everything had gone as smoothly as it was meant to - it certainly wasn't the most shocking turn of events among the factions that had converged upon London. He hadn't even copped this much flack for beheading the Voshevsky bitch, though he supposed Laurent had done that for him. The distaste the French had carried with them since, only further soured his permanent mood; his own alliances with them rotting from within the longer they chose to act like fucking children about a war they invited them to. How did they suppose they were going to rage war against the Russians without suffering the consequence just a little? It's a wonder they'd held any amount of ground for this long.
His languid place among those within Vespucci's was a testament to the fact that he didn't place himself above his own. The Sovrani were family, through and through - a soldier was always more than simply a soldier, and Vincenzo had never felt as if he belonged on some podium due to his position. A stark difference to how so many leaders held themselves. "You're late." He noted, without an ounce of disrespect, though the corner of his mouth lifted slightly - happy to see someone he considered a friend, and just as interested to see exactly what finally brought the Costa Nostra to their door. The glass he held settled upon the table before him with a gentle click of ice, and Vincenzo stood, the slight nod of his head towards the door leaving two of his best to replace his own eyes on all those who happened upon the restaurant.
A gesture to the backroom as he led the way, a glance at those hidden from view of the public, "We need the room," a slightly more polite way of ordering them all to clear out, no doubt, the sight of Dante enough to solidify the importance that they make it quick. Only a few seconds passed before they were alone, the final man to leave could be seen on the other side - a mere shadow through thick glass. "What do you need from me?"
@giordirossi location: her home ok
The fact that Vincenzo hailed from a life prior to losing his brother, meant that it never felt right, putting his foot down when those beneath his charge needed time - space, to process the way the pieces had fallen. He'd taken sole responsibility for the error of the soldier beneath him, and that had been the end of it. Those of which had something else to say, could step up and do so - and he'd willingly pull out the long list of mistakes made on all sides. There was nothing clean about raging a war like theirs, and Vincenzo would never claim to be a perfect man. What he would do, however, was remain observant - however dark the shadows he lingered in, he still saw the path that each of his men took in lieu of striking a match.
Case in point, his two closest friends and the struggles they seemed to take upon themselves. Giordana had been pulling away - slowly, yet rather effectively. Like a blunt knife digging at a bullet wound. Eventually, she'd get to where she felt comfortable, but what damage would it do? He wasn't willing to watch it fester. He'd knocked sharply, at her front door. Listening to the footsteps on the other side move closer until the lock clicked he was given the first look at his best friend in weeks. His foot moved before he spoke, boot jamming in against the door to keep her from slamming it in his face - not something she'd ever done before, but there was still time for firsts, "I think it's time we talked."
D.J. COTRONA From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series 3.02 "La Reina"
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