The God Father Novels & Stories

Mathias Raptis. He is her father's friend and their neighbor for many years. However, Cassie had stopped seeing him as an uncle years ago. The man has an athletic body with a muscled frame. Not just his body, his face is also alluring with every feature. His deep black eyes, perfectly flat nose, lushy lips, sharp jawline... Oh, his jawline. As a Mediterranean person, he is warm blooded and treats everyone nice. But he has never been tame, one can see it in his eyes. Mathias has that inner fire like his people and he deserves to be a Greek God with his perfect frame.

My fingers began to tremble, and I had to wring them into a tight knot to stop myself from doing something stupid. “In my time with the Giordano cartel, I have committed many atrocities,” Dad continued. “Chief among them was assisting the Giordano cartel during their war with the DeLuca cartel, which resulted in the death of Carlos DeLuca, and the rise of his son, Adrian DeLuca, to power.

"I care that my best friend is gone, and if there’s one family in this city with enough connections to find her, it’s them." Silence. Then, reluctantly, my dad sighed. "Lorenzo Moretti. Giovanni’s underboss. He handles a lot of their business." His lips thinned around the word. "I’ve met him. He’s…" My dad hesitated, like choosing the least offensive word. "Efficient." "Number," I demanded. My mother shot him a look, but my father retrieved his phone, scrolling with a resigned frown before reading off the digits. "Eliana, be careful."

No, no, no— let this not be how they know each other. Before I could finally run, Luca turned to where I stood, and motioned me over with a bright smile. “Babe!” he called. “Come here. I want you to meet my father.” He was the Sebastian Rossi? Luca’s father? The world blurred and I felt my heart drop straight into my stomach and die there.

“Meet your Ninong Ryke.” I froze. He was taller than my dad, broad-shouldered, and impeccably dressed in a silver suit that gleamed subtly in the sunlight. His black hair was neatly styled, and his eyes were sharp, almost piercing, as if they could read right through me. His nose was perfectly shaped, his lips soft and unassuming, yet commanding attention. There was a woman beside him, but I barely noticed her. All I could see was him. And he’s my godfather?

Federico Di Grazia; The Godfather had arranged a meeting at an exclusive golf club. Golf wasn’t exactly my game—I’d barely played—but on a bright, sunny day, surrounded by the city's wealthiest and most influential men discussing business and politics, I couldn't ask for a better setting.

The basement door was pushed open. The sound of wheels rolling across concrete echoed through the room. I turned and saw my father. His hair was completely white now. His body was frail, confined to a wheelchair, but his eyes were still as sharp as a hawk’s. He wasn’t just a father. He was the Godfather of the Corleone family, the true power behind everything. He was the man Luca had spent his entire life trying and failing to surpass. “Papa.” I walked over and knelt beside his chair.

My father, Don Matteo was standing by the door, by his side, an even taller man, who sported the same sort of neck tattoo that Leone had, and the sort of attitude that made it easy to know he was most probably Leone's father, even without the semblance. Leone laughed, and slowly, he put his gun away, then took a step back. "Don Matteo," he said, venom lacing his words. "We meet again." I blinked, taking in a sharp breath as my father slowly walked down to us. "We meet again, Don Leone." Leone never replied my father, and the taller man came between them. "You seem to already know Leone. He is all set to be announced as the official Godfather. He has also taken over all of Brave Hearts."

Everything managed. I pick up my fork. "How long have you known Derek?" He cuts into his chicken. "Ten years. Since he was fifteen." "His godfather." "In name only. I have no children of my own, and his father thought the association would be useful." "Was it?" "For him. Not for me."

He’d acted like we hadn’t had a pending argument or like I hadn’t gone to sleep angry because of him. “Tabby.” His baritone voice snapped me out of my thoughts and I raised my brows, confused. “Huh?” “Breakfast, come sit.” I walked further and sat on the stool while I watched him move with all precision. His body was built like he was a day older than twenty-seven, My eyes roamed around his body like I was in search of something, from his built chest to his abs and V of his pubic region. Jesus! Tabitha. This man is your goddamn Godfather. Whatever makes you see him in such a way? Maybe the fact that he was so fucking hot?