Godfather Novel Novels & Stories

"Oh? And what is that?" ​"I am not your godfather, Vivian," Arthur murmured, his voice dropping to a low, husky register. "Your father and I fabricated the entire 'godfather' story when you were a teenager. He knew how dangerous his work with the syndicate was getting, and he wanted to ensure I had absolute legal authority to protect you, to inherit his share of the assets, if anything happened to him. But we were never legally or religiously bound. I was just a man who fell desperately in love with a woman he was forced to watch from a distance, waiting for the day she was old enough, and ready enough, to become his." ​A profound, breathless wave of desire washed over Vivian. The last taboo

He began to thrust and feeling him took my breath away. His pace doubled. He reached for my boobs as he pumped and filled me in with himself. Leandro crouches and feeds on my nipples, encircling his tongue around it like a lollipop. "God, are you still hard? You just had an orgasm inside of me," I asked him. The realization came as a shock to me. Leandro raised his head and stopped fondling my neck with kisses. "This isn't the perfect timing to tell you this, but Damian is the new godfather of the Nevan's Cartel."

He would have been beautiful in her eyes if he didn't have an ugly personality. "Bitch", Arieon mumbled angrily. The man laughed and grabbed her chin making her wince at how hard the pressure was. "Listen here, slut. Watch who you're talking to. I am Gordon Novok, the Don of the Scottish Mafia and Newsflash, you're far away from Italy", he said and her eyes widened.

"Salvatore is a green snake in the grass. Working with him is the last thing I would do. Besides, I want to handle Alessio on my own. Whoever kills him first gets to wear the crown." "Can I ask why you think the Godfather is a snake in the grass?" she asked. "Don’t worry, I’d let Alessio know on the day he meets his death," he smirked.

Everything managed. I pick up my fork. "How long have you known Derek?" He cuts into his chicken. "Ten years. Since he was fifteen." "His godfather." "In name only. I have no children of my own, and his father thought the association would be useful." "Was it?" "For him. Not for me."

He has more. Still, I meet his gaze. “I’ll find out who did it,” I tell him, voice low. “And when I do… God help them.” Actually, I mean to say that I know it’s them—all six of them seated in this room drinking their ridiculously expensive scotch. And God help them… Let’s not beat around the bush, God did not help them. By the time I step out of the Godfather’s manor and inhale a deep breath, I am soaked head to toe with blood.

For two whole years, I had deployed the entire intelligence network of the Mafia, turned over every corner of the world, only to find her on the most prominent shelf of a bookstore, mocking my incompetence in this very public way. "My son," my voice was a ragged whisper. "I have a son." In that moment, the man who made the New York underworld tremble felt a hot sting behind his eyes. All the anger, despair, and regret of the past two years converged into a single, much more powerful emotion. "Tell the pilot to change our course. Immediately." I clutched the book in my hand as if it were the world's only salvation. "We're going to Paris." "Don, how many men should you take?" Marco asked.

But he still wouldn’t talk and tell me who had sent him. We had been at it for four fucking hours, and the man didn’t say a word but spat in our faces. I was getting tired of wasting my time with someone who wouldn’t talk. The truth was, I had taken control of most of my territories all over Italy, New York, LA, and Ibiza. Vittoria was losing her mind over it because I had the support of the Godfather. The Godfather was the leader of all leaders. Very few people knew his identity, but everyone knew he was young and that he was the most dangerous criminal in all of Italy. People said it was me because no one knew about the Godfather.

When money came into the picture, family and faith were no longer important. Old Godfather Ryan had been shot to death. He had been nicknamed ‘godfather’ out of respect, but his fate was more like the godfather from the movie ‘The Godfather’. In that movie, the godfather’s image resembled an authoritative elder. Therefore, killing Old Godfather Ryan was just treachery, not a betrayal of faith. However, catching all the priests in the church was an entirely different story. These priests were all followers of God and represented their beliefs.

"Pier 7. Twelve years ago. November." "Jesus," a new voice cut in—Noah, the only hacker in the city who didn't sleep. "The Leviathan is the ship where the old man Moretti caught a 'stray crane' to the skull. Official word was an accident. The streets said Dominic cleared the throne." "The manifest has a signature," Lina said, her heart hammering against her ribs. "A big, jagged 'V'." "Victor Russos," Bailey finished, his voice trembling. "If Dominic was cutting deals with their biggest rival the night his father died... Marco will burn this city to the ground to kill his brother. You aren't holding a story, kid. You're holding a nuke."