Godfather Pinky Ring Novels & Stories

"You're free to go Mr. Sitnikov. For now, please notify us if you have to leave town for any reason." Slowly he put his hands on the table and spread his fingers wide. The heavy, masculine ring he wore on the middle finger of his right hand caught her gaze. It was a thick band with words etched into the silver. She couldn't see the letters without getting closer. The finger on which the ring sat was crooked at both knuckles, as though it had been broken in two places. He pushed himself to his feet and, in one smooth motion that tore a gasp from the normally unflappable officer's throat he was in front of her. Gruber looked like he was about to intercede, but Sitnikov did nothing more than he

His jaw jacks as he raises his hand in the air and slams a punch into Thomas, Lucas’s elder brother, who is also on his knees. The gangsters drag Thomas back up as if nothing happened, and the Don reaches for the gold chain around his neck. He pulls it off with a growl and holds it between his fingers as it dangles in the air. “Pure gold. Did you buy this for your son?” He steers toward Jerry, Lucas’s younger brother, and points to the rings on his trembling fingers. “Those rings… they belong to you?” Jerry begins to shake his head profusely, trembling so hard he can’t even speak. The way he refuses to meet the Don’s gaze makes one thing clear—the rings do not belong to him.

I smiled , it means he was saying the truth , he and Zelda were really lovers. “Aha! , found it.” Sir Louis exclaimed bringing me out of my thoughts. My heart galloped , eager to hear what he has to say. Mr Louis adjusted his glasses , “The ring was made in October 22nd , 1991 ... for Mr Ezekiel Alessio Galterio.” My heart dropped. “What?” I mumbled. “My father gave it to my mother on the day she gave birth to me ... Noni was right.” Theodore said looking at me.

“Not for him. Never for him.” They listened. Enzo's jaw flexed. Crow’s cigarette burned down to the filter. Angelo sat forward, hands clasped between his knees, eyes dark with the kind of loyalty that didn’t need words. I pulled out the ring from my coat pocket and laid it on the bar. It was no polished diamond. No perfect circle of lies. It was a black opal, wild and vicious, flames trapped beneath its surface. It shimmered with colors no one could name—like fire, like blood, like her.

Jada jerked her fingers back, shocked by his familiarity with her. “I have a gift for you, Jada,” he said, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a small black box. He opened it to reveal a stunning white sapphire circle flanked by four marquee diamonds in a white gold setting like vines. She stared at the ring with awe, but then pushed it gently away. “You don’t have to do this, Mr. DeRoya,” she said, dropping her gaze to her hands in her lap that were now feeling damp.

He glanced at me from head to toe before inching a way, closing the door as he went to sleep in another room. Like a calm sea before the fit of the storm, I slowly clenched my fist as I continue to digest his mockery. Provoked and irritated, I furiously removed my veil and other clothing and accessories that reminded me of this nightmare of a marriage. I gazed at the 59.60-carrat pink diamond ring that shackled my finger. “The Pink Star.” It was pink, demure, feminine, elegant, and vulnerable. It was too large and flashy for my fingers. It felt like the gold leash that they usually used on innocent tigers.

“I don’t think anyone in our family is the Godfather’s beloved.” The Consigliere frowned at our strange reactions and replied firmly, “There’s no mistake. Do you remember the charity gala at the Ritz-Carlton? After that event, the Godfather said his beloved was one of the Monroe women.” He picked up the ring and held it out to us with meticulous precision. “This signet ring will definitely fit one of you. Just try it on, and we’ll know.” “My fingers are too thick,” Blair said immediately. The fake heiress—who wanted to marry into power more than anyone—shook her head rapidly and hid her hands behind her back.

Jones said, “Marie, won’t you introduce your friend to me?” “Yes, daddy. Jean, meet my father and dad, meet my best friend, Jean.” “Hello, sir!” Jean greeted him, and she initiated a handshake with him as she continued, “It is a pleasure to meet you.” “Likewise,” Mr. Jones responded and was impressed with a powerful handshake from a girl his daughter’s age.

Frank and his mannequin peered over Boston’s shoulder. Boston cleared his throat. “El.” He opened the box again and took the ring out, holding it out so I could see it. It was gorgeous and utterly perfect. A simple gold band with a single round cut diamond perched on delicate prongs. “It was my grandmother’s diamond. She was the first one to come out here and settle in wine country.”

I gave him custom cufflinks, each gemstone concealing a microtracker. I made sure to appear everywhere he frequented: private casinos, underground fighting matches, members-only rooftop bars, and so on. Each carefully staged coincidence earned a raised brow and a smile that signaled permission to stay. At last, on a night when he was lightly drunk, he slid a ring onto my finger with casual ease. "So eager to belong to me?" he said. "Fine. As you wish." At that moment, I believed I had won. I believed I had captured the heart of Don Enzo Galante, the most dangerous and dazzling man in the underworld.