Speak Softly Godfather Novels & Stories

Each word cut through my chest like a knife. I stayed beside Xavier’s bed, watching his pale face. His eyes were tightly shut, and dried tear tracks still clung to his lashes. My child should have been born into privilege and glory. Instead, because of my choices, he had suffered this. Dad entered the room and draped a black velvet shawl over my shoulders. “Get changed. From this day on, you’re no longer James’s wife. You’re this family’s Donna and the future Godmother of the mafia families.”

The sound echoed. Then he pushed her back, not enough to throw her, but with force that made her stumble. “Don’t ever speak to me like that again,” he growled, low and deadly. “Speak to me in that tone again and consider it your last day on earth. You seem to forget who I am. I’m not some weak man you toss words at. I’m a mafia don. I will not tolerate disrespect.” The way his voice dropped on those last words—it was like watching a mask come off.

“I don’t need you anymore. The driver is waiting with your money and new identity. Go away and never come back to Springfield. Your job is done.” “Yes, boss,” the nurse said, walking to the closet to retrieve a baseball bat and hand it to him. “Thanks,” The Godfather watched silently as she left them alone, the sound of the door closing echoing through the room. A malicious smile played across Connor’s face as he ominously loomed over his target. He smiled as he greeted the don, but couldn’t help noticing the Godfather’s trembling lips. Connor pulled a chair across the floor, its legs screeching, and sat down beside him. “Has anyone shared any breaking news with you?”

No movement. One of the Godfather’s attendants stepped forward. His eyes passed over the broken painting, then settled on Samantha. His face twisted into a cold, ruthless scowl—no trace of politeness remained, only unyielding authority.“You will come with us,” he gritted out.“The Godfather wishes to speak with you.” The room fell deathly silent. All sound vanished, swallowed up by the thick, suffocating dread hanging in the air.

He's probably just saying shit just to upset the brothers. " Now I'm wondering if she even feels the same way about you two." He smirks, his hand pointing the gun drops to his side. I breathe in relief. " Quindi Nick solo la tua puttana, eh?" His father asks in Italian. Are they even Italians. There's so much about this family that I don't know of. [So Nick, just your whore, huh?"] " Sì, solo la mia puttana. Dovresti starne fuori, padre." Nick replies in Italian.

Immediately after he finished his speech he came down and walked up to Alex straight up. “Hey, my boy come stai?” Alex Godfather asked in Italian how he was doing. “Story molto bene father” Alex replied back in Italy am doing fine father. “Nice my boy, come sit down let's talk…it been a while, Ho sensitive che sei il nuovo presidente” Alex God father told him that he heard he is the new president of his club “The Dangerous Angle's” “sj, io sono father” Alex replied saying yes I am father. “Oh wow my boy, you are surely going to do far better than your father, I know that '' His Godfather complimented him.

A silent warning not to say or do anything. I massaged my jaw, feeling the dull ache course through my jawline. It’s got a death wish, clearly. “We both know she’s not my fucking mother,” I muttered through clenched teeth. “So let’s cut the fucking charades, Godfather.” I spat the word like venom. “What are you doing here? Last I heard, you were hiding out in some monastery… getting your dick sucked by monks.” His eyes widened and his jaw tightened. “Watch your fucking mouth, boy. Don’t forget who you’re talking to,” he said, with a stern glare.

"Well, come on, Luca Brasi, I have to go pack." "Would you stop with the Godfather shit already?" "Whatever you say, Santino, say bye to the happy hooker, and let's be out." Oh yeah, this had shit storm written all over it.

I said softly, making sure that Lia heard me, "I wish you and Lia all the happiness in the world, Luca." I intentionally placed heavy emphasis on the word "happiness" before I turned around, my gaze sweeping over each hypocritical face in the room before finally stopping at the man sitting at the head of the table. It was none other than Vittore Corleone, Luca's father and the Don of the Corleone Famiglia.

Maybe we were stronger together than apart. Just as I leaned back in my chair, the door creaked open. A tall figure stepped inside, commanding presence filling the room instantly. My godfather, Tito Ortiz. His sharp eyes scanned the space before landing on me with a small, approving smile. “I heard the speeches,” he said, his voice deep, steady. “You did well, Adrian. Very well.” I rose quickly, surprised and grateful. “You came.”