Michael Corleone Novels & Stories

“They hired a Russian mobster who played me horrible. I managed to turn the situation around and not get so hurt, but this one is capable of anything. It's a real animal. Jesus, Jesus, Jesus. “Do you understand why I really need someone to trust, Mina?” He asks me in his broken voice. “I feel like everyone wants to hurt me. I've done horrible things in my life, but this last time I've tried to fix it by getting all this shit out of me, trying to cut ties with these people, but they're the worst scum that can exist in the world.” “Black... That Russian mobster who played you is…” “Yes, Mina. He's Mikael Sydow's own son of a bitch.”

My footsteps carried me into the heart of the room, and there they stood—figures of consequence and power. My gaze found Mr. Luca Domenico, the capo de capi of the Cosa Nostra. His eyes glinted with a cheeky smirk, a gesture that betrayed a sense of amusement at the unfolding events. Father's advice echoed in my mind, an exhortation to maintain a façade of corporate grace. Despite my best efforts, however, my lips struggled to comply.

My suspicions were confirmed when something Gran said caught my attention. "I guess this means owe Rogan a batch of his favorite cookies." "Or we could bypass him all together, and I'll just take those cookies." The smile on his face was breathtaking. It was one of those smiles that reached all the way to the depths of his eyes. Making them shine with a hint of boyish mischief. His perfect teeth and sexy lips were on full display. The charisma dripped off of this man like nothing I have ever seen before. This right here, ladies and gentlemen, is royalty. Mafia royalty at that.

He thought for a second and replied “She must be smart of course. She must also be kind-hearted and friendly with everyone.” “These are general qualities Mr.Stone. Say some different and specific ones.” He looked directly at the camera and said, “She must be so stubborn to not be able to please her even by me.” Immediately Rani cleared her throat from beside me. “That is totally different. Anything else?” the reporter asked. He nodded and replied “She makes the finest coffee. I mean she must make the finest coffee.” This time I heard all my friends along with Maam clearing their throats. I didn’t even turn to look at them because the shock was written all over my face.

“Here comes the prey.” The corners of my lips tilted up as I saw the black Rolls-Royce pull up to the red carpet. And then I saw him coming out of his car in a tailored suit that fit him like a glove, accentuating all the hard muscles and that slim waist. Him…the man who was called the Lion of the Empire…the man who was responsible for my misery…Leonardo D’Angelo. The head of the Costa Nostra, the Capo de Capi… the most ruthless man in New York.

I asked. "Alessandro Russo, tall, tanned, handsome you know the typical mafia man type" My heart dropped and my palms began to sweat, thinking back to my husband, the love of my life who left me at the lowest point of my life, and I was going to see him at the gala for the first time in a year. "I'll send you the rest of the details," Mateo states and hangs up, leaving my head spinning and my mind in a whole different state. A single tear fell from my eye hearing the name of the man who gave me the best life I'd ever had and then destroyed it.

One of the men pushed her stack of chips across the table. Giulia was disappointed that the mob boss, Corloni Bianchi wouldn’t be at the game, since she had good news to share and wanted to see his face when she delivered it. “I’m in his place,” a man named Mario spoke up. He removed his fedora, revealing sandy blonde hair. His piercing blue eyes met Giulia’s and he nodded at her. Mario was Corloni’s brother, and right hand man. Corloni was head of the family, the official mob boss, but Mario was a close second.

I said, drying my tears with the back of my palms. “We love you too, Tess.” The screen turned blank in my hand, I let it fall onto the bed, taking in deep breaths through my mouth then as if something sparked, I picked it back up with urgency. “Leonardo. Vitale,” I recited, typing the name into the browser. A few articles popped up. Scratch that–a lot of articles with his pictures. I scrolled through some of them, my eyes widening at how much wealth and assets he possessed. He owned companies not just here in Italy, but all over the world.

Toad demanded as the office door opened. “Because you’ll want to keep the bloodshed contained.” The Mick said as he entered the room. “I don’t know her in her new life, but as the next head of the Giovani family, Sophia is not someone I want mad at me. My boys are at your disposal.” Michael O’Flaherty, the leader of the Irish mafia and simply known as The Mick, was a man in his fifties with graying red hair and bright blue eyes. Laugh lines and crows’ feet graced his face that did not have his usual easy smile.

I said it so casually, you’d think I was talking about clothes or makeup. They both stared at me in silence. “Wait—you’re not kidding?” Jean finally asked. I shook my head. “Why would I joke about something like this?” “Let me just get everything out at once,” I muttered, then went on to explain everything—every detail. Let’s just say their reactions were… a lot. “So yeah,” I finished, leaning back into the couch, drained. “He’s a goddamn mafia boss. And Angelo is alive—unlike what Conan said.”