Godfather Pinky Ring Novels & Stories

Amy noted, but she couldn't help but check out the rings from the side of her eye. "You don't actually believe that." Zander chuckled. Amy looked at him like she was so pissed, I was a little afraid she would reach for her gun, but Zander just gave her that look. It was like a dad look not to be rude, but weird because he was a teenager. It worked though and she snatched a ring from the box. Hers had a pearl and mine a pink gemstone on a black band. His was just solid black that he placed on his finger.

"Sir… your father won’t be pleased.” I turned slightly, just enough to look at him. "Who do you serve, Grey? Me… or my father?” He didn’t answer; he didn’t need to. He understood that such a question was not in his favor. I looked away, jaw tightening, the irritation settling. As if acquainting myself with Alpha Garren wasn’t enough, I still had to put up with this. Grey said nothing. He simply opened the black case in his gloved hand. Nestled within its velvet contour was a golden ring, polished flawlessly.

Holding me close. Safe. Close. Two shots rang out. Two more. Silence. At long last, I dared to lift my head. To look up—but something caught my gaze. The hand wrapped around me bore a ring on the middle finger. A familiar ring. I’d given that ring to a man eight years ago. That was my Vasco’s ring.

I smiled, a look both seductive and resolute, full of fierce determination. "As long as you're with me, even Hell is nothing more than an amusement park. "And one more thing…" A cold glint flashed through my eyes. "I have special plans for Calvin." Jackson burst out laughing. He pulled a black ring from his pocket. It was the Godfather's signet ring, engraved with the family crest. Like a repeat from a previous scene in my life, he dropped to one knee. He took my hand and slid the heavy ring onto my ring finger.

Due to the proximity, the lingering scent of tobacco made me sick to my stomach. “It was fine,” I replied curtly, yanking his hands off me. Oblivious to my odd behavior, Dominick took my attitude as nothing more than a little tantrum. He shot his subordinate a look, and the latter presented a gift box on the double. “So I heard that you threw away the roses and ring? That’s pretty willful of you, but that’s what I like about you. “These are pearls imported from the Miranth Gulf. They cost me thirty million dollars at the auction. What do you think?”

As the Don of the Soave family, he was used to being obeyed. "Giada's heart is almost giving out because of that comment of yours! Come here and apologize to Ivano now!" I glanced at it coldly before turning off my phone. Before I could sever ties completely, there was one last thing I had to do. I reached into the safe in my room and pulled out two items—a Donna ring and an unlimited black bank card. The Donna ring was worn on my finger during my engagement to Ivano, in front of both families. It was a symbol that I was to be the future Donna of the Dominici family.

he says, breaking our kiss. I nod my head unsure of what to expect. Nico nods his head to the jeweler who pulls a small black square box and hands it to Nico. Nico takes the black box and opens it before dumping the ring into the palm of his hand. I barley have a moment to blink before Nico is slipping the oh so familiar ring on my finger. The gorgeous ivory pearl set in cushion of diamonds with a rose gold band. I stare at the ring in disbelief. “My Nonna’s ring. How?” I question, forcing my eyes from the ring to Nico’s. I thought the ring was lost or pawned off by my dad.

“Whoever sent them. The frightening monsters in my world rarely do their own crimes.” My thoughts went to my grandmother’s ring. I rarely wore it because the band size was too small. It fit on my pinky finger and that felt odd. I remembered the high prongs and the yellow-gold band and the large vibrant ruby. It was simple and elegant. I should have had it made larger, but I never did.

Unremarkable to anyone but those looking for crooked trails. That told me a lot. Someone was being paid, quietly, perhaps repeatedly. Money bought loyalty. Money allowed a person to pass as a ghost. Money could be traced, eventually, if you knew how to look. Midway through the afternoon, Gerald called up an image I didn’t expect to see: the cropped ring turned into a grainy, but real, photograph of a hand with a plain signet I recognized. It wasn’t just any signet — it bore an engraving I’d seen before on my brother Marcus’ lapel cuff at a family charity last year. A slip of heritage, the kind of ring that passed from men who clubbed together at regattas and whispered in boardrooms.

"Why are you asking me about those rare stones, Lance? They must be absurdly expensive!" He just shook his head, a playful glint in his eyes as he reached for the only pink diamond among the options. It rested in a square velvet box, the gem a soft, blush-pink that seemed to pulse with its own quiet fire. Without another word, he gently took my left hand, his fingertips brushing the delicate bones of my fingers, and slipped the ring onto my fourth finger.