Novel & Cerita The God Father

“I just wanted to be myself for once—not some recycled version of an ancestor reborn every generation. Just me. Adonis. Even if only for a little while.” I cleared my throat, my mind juggling disbelief. “O...kay. But what does that have to do with us?” He didn’t look away. He held my gaze like it was the only thing anchoring him. "I’m the Padrino. The Godfather of the Italian Mafia. With Greek blood.” I stared at him, unable to speak. “There’s something else,” he said, voice lower now. “It’s about Dalia…” He hesitated, eyes flicking away before locking back on mine.

I looked down at the floor, not being able to face anyone there. He raised an eyebrow, flicking the cigarette onto the floor and snuffing it out with his shoe, "Respectable man, huh? You want a respectable man?" "Nikolai Costello is the Godfather, isn't he? The most respectable man in not just the entire Cosa Nostra but also other crime families too," he said, putting his hands in his pockets and looking at Mama as if she said anything wrong, he'd shoot her. "Of course," she nodded.

“You have been silent for too long. Report.” I clasped my hands in my lap. “The Godfather’s men are operating in Chicago. I traced them to a location and after questioning, it was confirmed that they are indeed his people. They have training houses and women are being sold like cattle. This is a direct violation of bratva law and...” “Enough.” Another cut me off with a dismissive wave. “You're chasing ghosts. Every young bratva head thinks they see conspiracies. Do not waste our time, besides do you think we haven't heard about your own little shenanigans?”

The jet landed smoothly on a private tarmac in Sicily. The cabin doors opened, and the blazing Mediterranean sun poured in, instantly chasing away the last shadows of Chicago. Waiting at the bottom of the stairs was my father—Don Marco, the most feared Godfather in Sicily. Beside him stood a man who commanded the space around him. My rumored arranged fiancé. The youngest reigning Don of the North American Five Families—Dante. He wore a perfectly tailored midnight-black custom suit, one hand tucked into his pocket. His power wasn't forced like Jax's. It was deep. Dangerous. An elegance that was bone-deep.

) Francisco shouted after me when I pulled whatever her name was out of the living room. I was walking down the hallway when Isadora came out of a room, wiping her nose clean. What the fūck? Before I could say anything, that guy that had kissed her and a few other people walked out. I gritted my teeth together as my hold around the woman I was getting ready to fūck tightened. “Padrino.” (Italian for “Godfather.”) She said, batting her eyes until her eyes flickered to my hand around the woman’s waist.

"She was everything a man could want—kind, beautiful, selfless. Everyone loved her... except Jaydon’s mother." I feel my breath hitch. Christian continues, his tone steady but heavy. "His mother never approved of Hera. She thought Hera was too simple, too antisocial. But Hera never let it bother her. She visited them every week, helped the servants, even brought gifts for his parents. "But there was one thing Hera could not accept." Christian’s voice lowers. "Jaydon’s choice to follow in his father’s footsteps. She hated the idea of him becoming the Mafia leader. She despised it. They fought about it constantly."

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO, Antonio Dante's pov, “Antonio.” “Antonio.” “Antonio.” My father is part of the mafia. My father is a Mafia. A boss. A Mafia Boss. “Open the door,” I might have been behaving like a child locking myself in the room but I needed time to think. “Antonio, please." My father is a murderer. “Antonio, please let me explain.” He kills people. “Please open the door.”

We also stood instantly. He placed a heavy hand on my shoulder. The weight of it was iron. “Remember, boy. A Don may command many. But a godfather commands all. You walk because I allow it. Never forget that.” “Yes, Godfather,” I said with a small smile. Right then Giovanni’s phone lit up; he checked it, gave me a quick nod. The feds had the donors. They are free now. No casualties.The plan was working. Jayce would be pleased to hear that.

I folded my arms "I don't understand anything and I'm ready to go back home.. I don't care who's doing the talking but can someone explain why I was dragged out of my house, put on a plane, and sitting here?" "You're not going back." Geovanni looked at me "What?" I asked him in disbelief "You're not going back to Miami." Xavier repeated "Once you enter the mafia you can't go back. Your father is linked with us and he lost some of our guns so to pay back he sold you to us." I just stood there. For the second time in a short space of time shock was an understatement. My father? What does he have to do with this? And more importantly...why does he need guns?

Salvatore sighed; he wished he could do more for her the way Adler did, take matters into his hands and make sure she was okay, He might be holding her deepest secret and helping her get rid of it, but was that enough? "Hey," a hand fell on his shoulder, "I've been looking for you." Salvatore stared at the hand on his shoulder, then looked up at its owner, he immediately went rigid, listening to his world go silent. "I didn't know you were here, Boss." Victor Domenico, second son to the Godfather, standing at least six foot, with an easygoing frame, sad brown eyes that were inherited from his mother, sharp intellect that set him above the rest, and an excellent attribute that could have had