The Godfather Novel Novels & Stories

You're perfect. "Only your beauty, blonde hair, blue eyes, and flawless skin can satisfy Jackson. "As long as he takes you, all my gambling debts will be wiped clean." My heart clenched violently. "Who?" Fear and reverence filled Calvin's face. "Jackson Grant. "He's the new mafia Godfather. He's a legend. "They say he came from the slums and used to be the old Godfather's daughter's bodyguard. He fought his way up. His means were violently cruel.

Vincenzo walked past his brother and me, heading to the entrance door, his phone in his left hand. “Just give it a few minutes, Vincenzo, you’d be down on the ground, fighting unconsciousness.” I gritted, clutching onto my ridiculously huge ball gown. I just wanted to be out of the uncomfortable dress and in the comfort of my bed, where I belong, not in this blood bath with my new husband, who is a killer, A Made man and a soon-to-be Bratva. Everything felt too real to be a dream, so I didn’t count it as one, but I just wished everything could go back in time to when the De Luca Mafia family had no business with my papa.

“The real truth is he was probably followed into the woods, beaten to semiconsciousness then tossed over the edge of the cliff.” “Yes.” Her dark eyes are full of sympathy. “So, John was killed, most likely by—” I swallow. Nolan’s name bounces around my skull, on the tip of my tongue. I can’t do it. “Someone from the Morfil family. My father was most likely killed through some kind of Mafia connection.” Dai Qing closes the file and stares at me for a moment. “He learned Italian after your brother was murdered, right?” I give a curt nod. “The De Luca family speaks primarily Italian for their business purposes.”

I traded my sight and half my life for the sight of her and her bodyguard going at it in my own study. For her fake affection while she carried another man’s child. For her calling me a "useless blind man." All that stupid devotion, that sacrifice, that filthy betrayal—it was all frozen solid with the winter rain in Chicago. In the darkness, I’d already carved out that weak heart. I took a deep breath and pushed open the heavy oak doors. My father was waiting in his study. Don Salvatore Scott. One of the most respected godfathers in Sicily. He was seventy-five, his hair completely white, but his eyes were still sharp as a hawk’s.

The psychopathic lord stated, his tone layered with concern. When Darkous had accompanied his friend to meet with his family, everything had begun decently and Dorian was welcomed with open arms. Only, the feral immortal was highly unpredictable and when his father had arrived home, things quickly took a turn for the worst. Dorian’s father wouldn’t believe a word that he said, deciding instead that the animal-like man was no longer his son because of what he had become. The psychopathic lord had attempted to calm the escalating argument, but unfortunately; it had already gotten out of hand. The feral being within Dorian had been unleashed during the fight, tragically resulting in the death o

It was something that I hated to do, knowing that I was going against the oath I had sworn. "The godfathers are people who literally do everything for their selfish benefits. They would make people work for them and when it's time they discard them. Don Pablo works for the godfathers and despite everything that goes on, he is untouchable due to the influence that the godfathers have. Ciro Russo is just a pawn in their chess game and I fear that with their return to Carlifornia after a long time, there is a bigger plan they have" She stared at me, waiting for the next line of my statement.

I've had some pretty vivid fantasies of my Godfather, that's one thing that I will admit. The man oozed dominance, mystery and sexiness that rubbed off on any female. I'd enjoyed those subtle touches whenever he would place a necklace around my neck, the way his fingers seemed to linger on my waist a second longer than necessary when we pulled away from our hugs and the way that he would give me this intense look as if to whisper to me that it was our little secret.

He rushed at me and seized my throat, slamming me against the wall. The suffocating pressure came at once. His eyes were bloodshot, savage. "I was fighting those Gambino dogs on the West Coast, and you let someone into your bed? Tell me! Whose spawn is it?" he roared, tightening his grip. Struggling for breath, I forced out a few words. "Rosato… Vincenzo…" Rosato Vincenzo. The Godfather's name. He released me. I collapsed to the floor, coughing violently.

They still need to clean up the blood and the mess. "That was quick. I like it. You punished them, and I can still be in time to say goodnight to my wife and maybe have dinner with her. Good job, son. I wish your father were here to see you in action," The Godfather says. He and Dante are drinking whiskey. My brother is pale as he runs to the side of the boat and vomits. No one blames him. It is his first kill after all.

I paid the driver, the exchange of money, a mundane transaction in a world that suddenly felt surreal. Walking into my empty apartment, I felt a profound sense of loneliness. The silence was deafening, amplified by the absence of Don Antonio's presence, his laughter, his touch. I sank onto the couch, the soft cushions offering little comfort. Something had shifted, that much was clear. But what exactly, I couldn't yet define. Perhaps it was the realization that love, even the most passionate and intense love, wasn't enough. Perhaps it was the understanding that actions had consequences, that choices had repercussions. Or perhaps it was simply the dawning awareness that I had to find my own p