Godfather Pinky Ring Novels & Stories

Rocky beset ignoring Detective Kennedy's salutations . “ I am sorry for bugging you Mr — ” “ Hit the nail on the head ! ” Rocky interrupted Detective Kennedy “ You are going to be trying this stuff on . On your Index finger. ” Detective Kennedy carps tossing a silver ring with a blue signet at the top . Rocky's face turn slowly into a frown then into a mischievous smirk . He leans forward causing Detective Kennedy lean backward in defense . “ How did you get such an expensive signet ring ? ” Rocky beset scrunching his nose in disgust .

One an intricately woven rich yellow gold wedding ring and the betrothal ring, with its fabulously rare pink diamond gleaming like a lustrous living thing from a bed of exquisite white diamonds. She’d meant to return the rings to Adrastos when she’d returned to London, but she’d pushed them into this drawer along with the credit card and promptly forgotten about them. Wanted to forget about them. Needed to forget about them. Until now… Her brother had missed the jackpot when he’d left the rings behind, she thought helplessly. The pink diamond alone would’ve paid off his debts, with an obscene amount left over for him to spend further.

*** "BABE, look at this one. I like it because of its pink diamond. One of the rarest diamonds. I am sure if our son gets married in the future, we can pass it on to him and his future family. We can make it an heirloom." Grace brought the pink diamond ring she was holding closer to Paolo. They sat side by side on a long sofa. But Paolo's mind was elsewhere.

He jokes, winking at me as he runs his fingers over his jet-black hair. My eyes immediately focus on the enormous circular gold ring he wears on his pinky finger, which demonstrates his mob affiliation and it gleams under the street lamps. I've noticed that only a few of the goons, including Ace, have earned theirs. The ring is carved with an elaborate 'E' surrounded by small diamonds that signify the Esposito family name. I inhale and exhale loudly, rubbing my hands up and down the length of my frigid arms.

So why would she expect something that didn't exist? She forced down the bitterness rising in her throat and opened the box. She wasn't disappointed. The design of the ring was exquisite, the handiwork of the renowned jewelry designer Evangeline Quirino-Madrid, the very owner of La Mujer. Just as Giovanni had said, the centerpiece stone was a pink star diamond. It was stunning. And without a doubt, wearing it would be dangerous. It was bound to attract thieves. She slipped it onto the ring finger of her left hand. It fit perfectly. But it would have been nice if Giovanni had been the one to place the ring on her finger, imagining what that moment might have felt like.

I raised my right hand, and a pink diamond ring gleamed exquisitely in the afternoon sun. My view was misty again. I sniffed hard, and the handsome face of austere coldness sprung into my mind. My smile turned genuine. “You sure picked a good one, Papa. He’s a smart, tall, handsome mafia—and an incredible pain in the ass—exactly my type."

Tears finally fell from his eyes, dripping onto the page and blending with my old tear stains. He held the diary close and walked to the window, gazing out at the garden. "Margherita," he whispered, "I'm sorry. A thousand apologies could never bring you back." He pulled a gun from the drawer and chambered a round. Then he sank to one knee—just like when he had proposed—and slipped the sapphire ring onto his left pinky. In our country's tradition, wearing a ring on the pinky symbolized both singleness and remembrance.

It's fine because I don't get drunk easily. "Where's the birthday boy?" Phoenix mouthed Gaius' direction. I noticed him talking with his parents, cousins, and several elderly people. "I heard that his father gave him an antique ring that was owned by the late king of Egypt." That was quite intriguing. "I wonder where Tito Gustavio bought that." I could imagine what it could look like. The image of an antique gold ring with a 14. 2-carat blue diamond is popping up in my head.

He stopped dead in his tracks. The memory hit him with the physical force of a freight train. The ring. Damon had worn it every single day. A thick, heavy band of silver set with a smooth, pale, iridescent white stone, worn permanently on the middle finger of his right hand. “What is it, Papa?” a young Jax had asked decades ago, sitting on Damon’s knee. “Mother of pearl, my boy,” Damon had smiled, ruffling his hair with that exact hand. “A rare, beautiful thing.”

"Every time I touch this tattoo, it turns me on." "Should we go again another round, I will be gentle. " "Hell no!" she said as he staggered up into the bathroom. * Don Pedro phone beeped, and he picked it up. Hello!! Yes, I can hear you." Came his husky voice "I found someone who knows where he fled to." He caresses the gun on the table with his left hand still holding the cigarettes in between his fingers, that bared three huge gold rings as big as his fingers.