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melis-writes · 9 months

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Mafia Wife [Sonny Corleone x Reader Multichapter, 18+ Smut] Chapter 1 – La Famiglia Giordano.

Read on AO3 / Chapter Masterlist.

18+, explicit smut read.

“You wanted to name our first-born daughter Gabriella.” / “You’re Gabriella, aren’t you?”

“The underboss’s wife”; that’s who you are, and the whispers of enemies, family and colleagues alike know it too. You’re no stranger to the underworld of crime surrounding you including the one run by the Corleone family’s underboss; Santino Corleone. The streets run red with blood and brutality under Santino’s influence but it’s Santino who feels hit by the thunderbolt at the very sight of you—pushing away his womanizing and notorious unfaithfulness. You unexpectedly find yourself in a position of power balancing your marriage with the fate of the Corleone’s family’s future whether it be through Santino’s infamous brutality or the love he finds amidst the man he claims to be.

[WARNINGS]: Mentions of violence & death / Alcohol use / Pregnancy / Childbirth.

[AUTHOR'S NOTE]: The very first chapter of my Sonny Corleone x Reader fic is FINALLY here!! 🥰✨ Thank you guys SO much for all of the endless support and love this fic received when it was just an idea and barely typed out! I'm so glad to finally have it up. By far the most exhausting and longest part of the fic process is planning a brand new one for me, and I had definitely been much busier than usual when planning out/writing this fic which is why it took so long to write. I had to give something for the Santino girlies as I'm one myself!! 👀❤️ Please read ALL of the tags on this fic on AO3 before diving into the chapters as it'll give you a good understanding as to what the entire fic and chapters will be like. This goes for ALL fics I write! The tags are there for a reason. This fic is also 18+ only, just like all of my other works forever and always. This is meant for adults to read only. ✋🏻

Chapter 1: La Famiglia Giordano.

[ Barzini Family Estate, 1948 ]

“Nobody wants another war,” Don Barzini states, watching the ice soaking in his glass of whiskey. “Nobody wanted another war; isn’t that how it always goes?”

Don Tattaglia gives his head a shake, relaxing in the leather armchair he sits across from Barzini. “We have Sollozzo to thank for all of that.”

Having an otherwise civil discussion between two closely allied business partners and old friends, the bond Don Barzini and Don Tattaglia’s family share has been stronger than ever since Sollozzo.

Despite successfully allying together against the Corleones throughout the Five Families War and coming together for talk over business, neither Barzini nor Tattaglia can ignore the air of tension that’s formed between them now.

Barzini can easily tell Tattaglia is unnerved as he sips his whiskey again, savoring the smokey notes of the liquid over his tongue while noticing how Tattaglia is nearly chugging back his drink.

“You’re tense,” Barzini comments, somewhat surprised by Tattaglia’s behavior. “Are you going to tell me what’s on your mind or not?”

“How can I not be?” Tattaglia swallows down his drink.

“You’re looking at all of this the wrong way, my friend,” Barzini gives a reassuring smile. “You’re on the winning side. The Godfather has no leverage over either of our families or—”

“Vito Corleone isn’t my concern,” Tattaglia interrupts.

“Hmm,” Barzini pauses, taking a sip of his drink again. “Then that’s a first.”

“It’s his son,” Tattaglia adds.

“Which one?” Barzini rolls his eyes. “They’re all equally useless in their own ways.”

Tattalia opens his mouth to answer before pausing for a moment; a look of absolute defeat crosses his expression, forming into regret, then helplessness. “Does the name ‘Gabriella’ ring a bell to you?”

Barzini raises a curious brow. “Maybe. Should it? Does The Godfather have another daughter we don’t know about?”

“He has a daughter-in-law,” Tattaglia answers, “Gabriella Corleone. She’s the daughter of Francesco Giordano.”

Barzini tenses for a moment, no longer focusing on his whiskey. “I… I see.”

“You know Gabriella then?” Tattagia asks back.

“Not personally, but her name was spoken often in my household. Was,” Barzini emphasizes.

Tattaglia sighs softly, giving his head a shake.

“Emilio wanted to marry her,” Barzini continues, mentioning his eldest son. “He spoke of Gabriella fondly and often, but she refused him and his advances. Now you’re telling me she’s part of the Corleone family?”

“Francesco did well hiding the news from us for the most part,” Tattaglia points out. “Everyone else must have known.”

“No, no,” Barzini shakes his head, refusing. “I don’t think of it in that way. Francesco is a dear friend. He doesn’t ‘hide’ things. He values the privacy he can give his family.”

“If you want to put it that way,” Tattaglia mumbles. “It’s none of our business, is it? She married Santino Corleone, the underboss.”

Barzini freezes in his seat, attempting to calm himself down internally as Tattaglia immediately picks up on Barzini’s shocked expression.

Tattaglia nods grimly, “do you know what you’ve done?”

“Don’t,” Barzini mutters softly, holding up his free hand.

“She’s pregnant,” Tattaglia adds. “Do you even care? Do you know what’s going to happen now? To your investments? Your wealth? Your bank accounts with Giordano?”

Barzini suddenly lets go of his whiskey glass, watching as the glass shatters to pieces over the floor and the alcohol spills free onto the wood.

Barzini covers his face with shame, feeling a knot of heavy emotions cause him to feel nauseous almost instantly with unimaginable guilt.

A heavy silence sits in the air between the two men for a minute as they ponder, having nothing else to say to each other.

“I will apologize to Gabriella,” Barzini finally speaks, raising his head out of his hands.

“You can’t,” Tattaglia frowns. “You can’t do anything anymore.”

[ 1921 ]

“Gabriella… Little Gabriella.” You’re the first-born daughter in your family to four older brothers, and the eldest to your twin sister, born just forty minutes apart.

Although your mother went into labor knowing she’d welcome two children instead of one on June 19th, 1921, nothing could surpass the joy your mother and father felt when you were born.

Just as your four eldest brothers had been born, your mother gave birth to you and your twin sister Bella at home, surrounded by two Italian-American nurses from the community who had helped your mother through her previous deliveries.

Your parents weren’t sure what to expect when your mother realized she was pregnant with her fifth child since the last four children she gave birth to were all boys.

“Will it be another boy this time?” Your father chuckled and placed his hand over the top of your mother’s seven-month-old baby bump. “Perhaps two boys?”

“Oh, please,” your mother let out a laugh, “we have more than enough boys. I would love a daughter this time around. One boy and one girl, or twin girls even.”

“What a dream that would be,” your father grinned. “It seems like we’ve had all the luck in the world for having sons. No matter,” he leaned over, kissing your mother’s baby bump gently. “Boy or girl loved all the same. Spoiled like his or her other siblings. Only two this time…” He pulled away, looking up at your mother. “I can’t wait to meet them, darling.”

“Me too, sweetheart,” your mother blushed and laced both of her hands with your father’s. “Two more additions to the family. You know what I said when we first married? About baby names?”

“I do, mhmm,” your father nodded. “You wanted to name our first-born daughter Gabriella.”

“I do,” your mother smiled warmly. “I still do.”

“Of course. A beautiful name for a beautiful girl. I still remember,” he gave your mother’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “I hope this time we get to meet little Gabriella.”

“I hope so too, my love.”

Even before you were born, you were loved. The idea of you was loved, your name was loved, and everything and anything you could be from birth to adulthood to old age was loved.

Nothing compared to how overwhelmed with joy your mother felt when she smiled up weakly at you, tears in her eyes from excruciating contractions hitting her again and again to see and hear one of the nurses declare, “it’s a girl!”

Before your mother went back into labor to give birth to your twin sister forty minutes later, she held you in her arms and cooed to you through her tears of happiness. “Gabriella… Gabriella...”

She kissed your cheeks wet with tears as your father let you hold his finger with your tiny hand, looking down upon you with so much love and happiness.

You were born into this world loved and welcomed just as your siblings were, and just as you would always be.

Your twin sister and you were born to the Giordano family; a family that came from money which was no secret nor meant to be one.

Your father, Francesco Giordano, better known as “Frankie” by his friends and business partners, was born in Sicily, but your grandparents had already been living in and had immigrated to New York.

Your father came from a lengthy family history of educated individuals; spanning seven generations of university graduates and had graduated from Columbia University himself in 1912.

Your mother, Rosa nee De Luca, who was born in Long Island, New York to Sicilian parents, had met your father in that same year.

Having many connections or even just one to a crime family served to be the best for anyone’s interests, even those who didn’t want to get “involved” indirectly or directly, and then there are always individuals who wouldn’t mind the close ties with the mafia so as long as they stray from direct intervention or get too close, could always reap the benefits of work connections by having powerful friends in powerful places.

Your father and his family practiced the same mantra as many others; don’t get too close to the mafia to avoid getting burned, by maintaining a healthy business relationship and community friendliness.

Since the days of your great-grandfather, your father inherited the ownership of several small banks that his family had started; serving the local community and operating for middle-class families with day-to-day funds, support for home ownership, and loans.

The success of your father’s family business in banking was steady and promising, working out very well to attract a clientele of all kinds from the Italian-American community in particular.

Your father built his business connections where your grandfather left off but also started new ones with the Italian community in the neighborhood and area as well as being involved with all of the crime families himself, but with some more than others.

Everyone, including the mafia, knows Frankie Giordano to be an honest businessman who makes a living to feed his family. Your father also happens to be smart and witty about it too.

Frankie Giordano built a name for himself without feeding off of his father’s legacy and thus deepened the trust and bond the Giordano family already had with the mafia when it came to loans and money laundering.

One could say your father always went to the bank laughing, and the mafia made sure of that for the excellent service rendered by the Giordano banks.

Your father also knew that his future wife—your mother—would benefit greatly from that, and thus so would all of his and her children.

Your father had no intention of keeping the truth and ties of his business affairs from you, your twin sister Bella, or any of your brothers for that matter. He would only wait to tell you all in due time when you’d be mature enough to understand and process it.

Even if in the future and all grown up none of you were remotely interested in the booming world of business and finance, you’d at least benefit immensely from inheritance and the steady flow of wealth and investments.

Your father’s closest business partners were that of the Corleone and Tattaglia families, although the Barzini’s were getting close enough to join the list too.

Your family is protected from conflicting interests and possible hostilities between rival families because your father’s business is legal, public and there’s mutual respect and understanding of what your family’s banks provide with respect grandfathered in.

Despite Frankie Giordano’s wealth and success, your father was never the type of man to flaunt or brag—just maintaining his work ethic with dedication like none other; traits you would indeed inherit from him.

In many ways, your father would see a lot of himself in you as you grew older, such as the fact you too could see light at the end of every tunnel and that you also valued family and morals over money and power.

Such traits and beliefs made your father a true family man under times of turmoil and stress, and it also helped you understand the world around you better.

Your father married your mother, Rosa, in 1914 after almost two years of courtship with no intention to push or rush their relationship for the sake of tying the knot quickly.

Your mother comes from a family of wealthy socialites who built upon their wealth by investing and simply being connected to the right people.

Your parents met each other through a social outing when your mother’s family became all the more interested in investing in Giordano family banks.

“It’s one thing to believe in something such as love at first sight. Love can be so fickle, but when it happens to you, it changes you completely,” your mother had once told you.

The wit and cunning your mother showed growing up as a young woman were learned from family members around her and would no doubt pass on to you as well.

Through your mother, you also discovered your passion and love for art and botany, whereas your twin sister Bella felt the same and was more connected to architecture, nature, and the outdoors.

When your parents settled down and planned to have a family of their own, your brothers, you, and your sister would come from and be born into a family of love and respect that could never be unbound.

You knew from a very young age early on that your parents loved each other very much, and although all couples disagree and have their fights, you still can’t recall a single moment where you heard your parents raise their voices at each other in front of you, let alone fight or argue in front of you and your siblings either.

Growing up, all you knew is you loved and wished for the same peace and calm love your parents shared.

You don’t want to be “madly” in love; you want a peaceful and understanding love—the kind your mother and father share with each other with the kind of expectations they lived through and passed onto you.

Everything you’ve learned about love was through your parents, and it set your heart’s wants and needs as a young woman.

Your mother, who is not easily impressed by just anything, had taught you to be the same and explore your options with all things when you were a teenager.

“What pleases the eye once may not do so the second time. The world is filled with options. Your heart will know what’s best for you.”

While your mother was eighteen years old when she married your father, she gave birth to your eldest brother—Luca—in 1915.

Right up until your mother’s maternity leave, she was a private art teacher in New York City who specialized in teaching about painting; classical, renaissance, religious, and abstract.

Your mother would not return back to teaching part-time until 1936 when your sister Bella and you were about fifteen years old and the family could easily sustain and take care of itself throughout the day.

Your mother also preferred to teach part-time instead of full-time before she began to have children because she preferred to spend most of her time with the grandchildren she welcomed over the years.

Coming up to 1939, you and your sister were eligible bachelorettes in your family alongside one bachelor brother—Giani—but it would be you, the most eligible bachelorette considering your circumstances and your sister’s traveling abroad that would not only bring you upon him—Santino Corleone—but the Corleone family and their history with the Giordano’s in due time.

[ 1920, Hell’s Kitchen, New York ]

“There will never be come a day—” Francesco says, sketching out the outline of a small olive branch over a scrap piece of paper in front of him, “where they outlaw this, my friend. Never. The olive? They could not,” your father admires his sketch, darkening the two olives he drew hanging on the branch. “The olive provides too much—it does too much. You buy it from Vito Corleone—Genco Olive Oil—” he smiles up at Vito who returns the warm expression, popping a black olive in his mouth from the small platter in front of them.

“And you use it in your cooking,” your father continues, taking an olive and putting it in his mouth. “It’s too versatile, too much of a need for the average family to outlaw.”

“I can’t see any Italian family without a bottle in their home,” Vito chuckles quietly.

“Exactly,” your father points out, reaching into the drawer beneath him for a moment.

Vito glances over curiously, watching as Francesco pulls out a concealed bottle of unopened Jack Daniel’s whiskey before setting it on the front counter in front of him.

“You don’t have to worry about the repercussions of buying a bottle or whole barrel of olive oil. This though,” your father taps the back of his fingernails against the bottle of alcohol. “Is a crime. This bottle here.”

Vito raises a curious brow; amusement twinkling in his eyes as to how nonchalantly your father pulled out a bottle of unopened whiskey.

“My father’s favorite drink served on ice. Bought and sold everywhere, now it’s illegal,” Francesco chuckles, shaking his head. “Now, buying and selling alcohol is illegal. Just like that.”

“They could never expect to stop everyone from doing so,” Vito chimes in.

“Exactly, my friend,” your father begins to open up the bottle, grabbing two small glasses from the cupboard beneath the front counter at which he and Vito sit. “They never can, but they know they never could. I don’t know how much longer this silliness will last, but,” Francesco begins to pour Vito and himself a glass of whiskey, “there’s plenty more of where this came from. No questions asked, no eyebrows raised.”

A curious look crosses Vito’s eyes as he takes his glass of whiskey before glancing down at it. Naturally, he immediately begins to wonder how many bottles Francesco has, where he got them from, how he got them, and where they’ll go.

“You are the most resourceful friend I know,” Vito comments, “do I need to ask?”

“You can,” your father replies, knowing, of course, Vito’s curiosity is only normal and expected, “if we can come to an agreement first, my friend.”

Your father was the first man to lend Vito Corleone money; give him his first full loan just by knowing his full name and without any interest.

Your father gave Vito a chance—one of his first chances—without even knowing it, and through such a chance came one lucrative business opportunity after another.

If your father and Vito were involved in something, then it meant there was plenty of money to be made under the table without asking questions and with no risk of getting caught.

Whether your father and Vito formally acknowledged it or not, they were a duo of sorts.

Your father trusted Vito while knowing Vito was indeed settling the roots of his one crime family just as the other mafia families in New York were.

Your father didn’t care about Vito’s involvement in crime or anything of the sort; your father was and is a banker by trade and name, and money always talked.

With prohibition starting in 1920 with a surplus of alcohol to be smuggled from your father’s contacts in Canada, there was nothing but profit to be made from the business for however long prohibition would last.

Securing and solidifying a strong friendship already, the prohibition era would make both your family and Vito’s very wealthy from the moment Vito smiled and shook your father’s hand in agreement, knowing all the same.

That was hardly the beginning of the Giordano and Corleone family’s friendship and ties with one another.

That same year, Vito Corleone would kill Don Fanucci.

Despite the concept being thought of by everyone who had the misfortune to know Fanucci, many didn’t believe Fanucci would be outright killed.

It was merely something men fantasized about to set themselves free of the financial obligations Fanucci put forward and fears they would be killed, extorted, go missing, or worse.

Taking Fanucci out was a fantasy, nobody could do it except for Vito Corleone.

If it was anyone your father had faith in to stand up to a brutish man like Fanucci, it was Vito Corleone, but your father also didn’t expect Vito to murder Fanucci the way he did and so soon.

On that fateful day, your father was closing up his main bank’s branch for the day; having put up the “closed” sign on the front door and lowered the blinds more than halfway down.

He had not yet locked the front door since he was up at the front anyway, and your father would be able to see anyone coming to approach the bank’s entrance before they could even think of trying the door.

At that time, your father was counting some of the spare change in one of the last drawers quietly, noting that it was 5:30 PM and rush hour had fully kicked in.

Humming quietly to himself, Francesco put the spare change in his pocket before closing up the cash register and locking it with his key.

Only for a moment did your father look up to see the faint figure of a passerby without paying too much attention to it.

In a few moments from now, Francesco would lock up the bank and head home; your mother was expecting him with a hot meal on the table and she was pregnant with you and your twin sister Bella at the time.

In a good mood and having enjoyed his work day, your father slowly began to stop humming upon hearing footsteps from that same figure grow closer to the bank’s front door.

Your father knew it wasn’t someone out strolling or wandering, but rather approaching the bank directly and standing in front of the door.

Your father kept his hand over his pistol carefully concealed underneath an old polishing rag on the front counter while watching the figure’s movements by the door.

It was then that Francesco noticed who the figure was, seeing no cause for panic or alarm.

It was Peter Clemenza, and he was revealing himself to your father to avoid a bullet in between the eyes at this hour.

Clemenza lifted up the “closed” sign in front of the door and peeked his head in; urgency in his eyes and beckoning with his hands to be let in.

Your father moved his hand away from the pistol and gestured for Clemenza to enter since the door wasn’t locked.

Sighing in relief, Clemenza quickly entered and shut the door behind him instantly, wasting no time.

Your father could easily tell Clemenza was alarmed but didn’t have a look on his face that spelled it was his problem.

Before your father could barely blink or open his mouth to ask Clemenza what was going on, Clemenza immediately stated, “Fanucci is dead.”

Your father stared back at him in shock, pausing for a moment to take everything in. “What? Dead?”

“Dead,” Clemenza confirms, locking the bank door and taking off his fedora. “I came over here as fast as I could to tell you.”

“Who else knows?” Francesco asked quietly.

“Roth, Genco, and Tessio so far,” Clemenza answered, catching his breath. “This is gonna send fuckin’ shockwaves throughout the neighborhood.”

“My God,” your father muttered under his breath, smoothening out the sides of his slicked-back hair. “And Vito? Does Vito know yet?”

Clemenza chuckles, shaking his head. “Who do you think did it, Frankie? Vito killed Fanucci. Shot that son of a bitch right in his own apartment. Don’t worry—“ He holds up a hand, “Vito handled everything.”

“Does he need anything?” Your father offered, stepping out from behind the front counter.

“Yeah, but I have a feeling you already know what,” Clemenza shrugged his shoulders. “That bastard Fanucci took half of our dime each and every time. He still dealt with your bank, right?”

“He has an account here,” Francesco nodded.

“Good,” Clemenza put his fedora back on, adjusting it. “Because everything in Fanucci’s account needs to all go to Vito now.”

It was true that Fanucci’s death, it now meant his money and assets held at the Giordano banks had to go somewhere, and your father couldn’t agree more to it going straight to Vito.

Fanucci had been stingy and extra hard on Vito over anyone, despite Vito being understanding and gentle to counter each and every time.

Still, Fanucci took hundreds of dollars worth of cuts from Vito’s pay every single time and still threatened to have him killed at the same time.

Francesco had no pity whatsoever towards Fanucci or his family, and if Vito was going to be the one taking back the money Fanucci stole from him and everyone else, then your father would agree to let it happen.

After all, Francesco knew Vito Corleone wasn’t the kind of man to take all that money and spend it on himself.

Vito proved your father’s beliefs about the security of Fanucci’s money and assets being transferred to Vito’s accounts when he saw for himself how Vito spread the money back into the Italian-American community and only taking the exact fair share that he kept track of since Fanucci began taking it.

Afterward, Francesco closed down Fanucci’s account at his bank and erased all existence and history of it, so if the police came around to ask questions, there wouldn’t be a single answer available.

Having Fanucci killed wasn’t something your father expected to happen in 1920—not while prohibition was still ongoing—and by Vito Corleone’s hand, nonetheless.

At the time, the only exciting news for Francesco Giordano was that he was expecting his wife to give birth to twin babies in the upcoming year.

In 1921, you and your twin sister Gabriella were born.

Your family did not live in stress due to any direct involvement in mafia affairs or had any fears to worry about what the mafia and those associated with its lifestyle of crime were doing.

Nothing stopped your family from continuing to live out their lives as normal, peaceful, and lawful with the police and government as many see fit despite what your father had known, seen, and been involved with in the past year.

Your father promised himself that he would never do or say anything to jeopardize the safety and happiness of his family nor put his family in any situation where they would live in fear and become potential targets to anyone or anything.

After all, your father had been expecting the birth of you and your baby sister—experiencing fatherhood all over again and surprisingly to two daughters this time.

Nothing else needed to get in the way of Francesco Giordano when he was welcoming two little babies to his family. Nothing to stress out his wife either and Francesco made certain of this.

It was on June 19th, 1921 that your mother, Rosa, went into labor in the comfort of her own home for six hours to give birth to you and your twin sister.

The same nurses who helped your mother give birth to your brothers were at your mother’s side again as your father also sat with her and held your mother’s hand for comfort—wiping the sweat off of her forehead and making soft conversation.

Everyone involved kept Rosa as comfortable as they best could, remaining vigilant in observation and getting Rosa anything she may need.

“Ti amo,” (I love you) your father whispered in your mother’s ear. “Sei una donna forte e ce la farai.” (You’re a strong woman and you’re going to get through this.)

Your mother’s strength thick and thin always had your father in awe, and your father never left your mother’s side throughout the six hours of tedious and agonizing labor.

Neither of your parents will ever forget the overwhelming joy and excitement they felt hearing the nurse announce, “it’s a girl!” for the first time as your mother gave birth to you.

Your mother smiled throughout her tears as she reached out to hold you and your father teared up too, seeing that he now had a baby daughter.

Sobbing from nothing but happiness and relief, your mother held your tiny self in her arms for a few moments before her body would prepare again to give birth to your twin sister Bella in the next forty minutes.

“Gabriella, Gabriella…” Your father cooed softly, attempting to soothe you as you cried out in your mother’s arms. “Welcome to the world, my beautiful girl.”

If it was a shock to have a daughter after giving birth to so many little boys, the ultimate surprise was your parents realizing that they were having two daughters.

So many happy tears and laughter were shared in that room, relief washing over everyone and the exhaustion of labor beginning to kick in.

Your family welcomed you and your twin sister Bella to the world in 1921, and your mother and father held both you and Bella in their arms, whispering promises that they would love and protect you both no matter what; that they’d do anything to give you and your siblings a good life.

Your eldest brother, Luca, who was five years old at the time was ecstatic, as were four-year-old Romeo, Casio, and little Giani to welcome two baby sisters.

Truly, it was one of the happiest moments of your mother and father’s lives.

In 1922 as you and Bella were just little babies growing up, one thing had become all the more apparent to all men who lived in Long Island—particularly the Italian community and the one in Hell’s Kitchen too.

Crime families at this time had bonded and grown stronger with all the more influence now. They were too powerful to be considered Fanucci wannabees as they could no longer be reckoned with alone.

Such power and influence amidst crime families brought business and organization, but that also meant rampant crime and fear even if it was not always noticeable.

One had to be careful dealing with crime families for whatever reasons since rivalry, although relatively uncommon at the time did exist and caused enough trouble.

Your father was only allied with and close friends with Vito and the Corleone family at the time, so no rivalry concerned him.

“Let me know if you need anything else, my friend,” Francesco said, patting Vito’s shoulder. “I can find a way to get funds to you in Sicily in less than two days if needed.”

“I will be fine, Frankie. Thank you,” Vito chuckled and smiled at your father. “I’m very grateful and appreciative for all the help you’ve provided my family and me.”

“You know I can say the same to you,” Francesco nodded back. “I’m too used to seeing you down these neighborhoods. You’ll be missed, Vito Corleone, but this trip is just what you need, isn’t it? For family and for peace.”

“Exactly,” Vito reaffirmed, “I won’t put it off longer than I need to. Don Ciccio is a withered old man now but he doesn’t deserve to die from something so merciful such as old age.”

“I agree,” Francesco replied. “He is a vile and sick man obsessed with power. He always has been. Maybe once he’s finally out of the picture, the rest of us can peacefully return to Sicily for a family trip as we wish to.”

“Many have said the same to me before,” Vito frowned. “I doubt Ciccio will remember me, but that is exactly what I will use to my advantage. It didn’t have to be this way, but…” Vito stroked his chin, “I lost my entire family to that foul man.”

“You don’t need to justify it to me or anyone else, Vito,” Francesco shook his head. “His death is in your hands now. You know I would come to aid you if I could. Either way, I support you.”

“I know you would, my friend, which is why we must part ways for now,” warmth flickered in Vito’s eyes. I can’t do this to you; you just had your little girls and they need their father with them more than ever.”

“So as long as they get to see their godfather soon again,” your father grinned. “Rosa is expecting you and Carmela all ready for dinner. Mrs. Corleone is expecting now too, is she not?”

“Indeed,” Vito beamed. “And we are taking little Michael to Sicily for this time on this trip.”

At that time, Carmela Corleone was pregnant with her first and only daughter, Constanzia.

“Ah, little Michael,” your father’s eyes lit up. “No naughtiness from the little man, I hope?”

“He’s a good, quiet young man,” Vito let out a soft laugh. “This trip will give him more stories to listen to about Sicily since he won’t remember it when he’s older.”

“Of course,” your father smiled, “just keep that fiery Santino by your side.”

“Carmela says the same,” Vito pointed out. “Don’t worry, I will. He’s a good boy too, I promise, although he could benefit from learning more manners.”

“Can’t we all?” Laughing, the two men shared a farewell hug.

“Be careful and be well, Vito,” your father cautioned. “Enemies may still be lurking in Sicily, looking for you, especially if you seek revenge.”

“It’ll be as if I wasn’t even there.”

[ 1939, Present Day ]

The first to welcome their first children into the Corleone family with Carmela and Vito Corleone excited to welcome a grandchild are Tom and Theresa Hagen; expecting their first baby early next year.

It’s no surprise that at first all eyes were on Santino—the eldest son of the Corleone family—to settle down and start a family first instead of Tom or anyone else, despite Tom being the same age—twenty three.

The only difference between the two men in terms of settling down to have a family was that Tom is in love with an investing in his love life and marriage with Theresa, an American woman, whereas Sonny hardly knows what “settling down” means.

It’s only in Sonny’s best interest to switch from one woman to another, a one nightstand again and again with no care as to how others may see Sonny to be very promiscuous with no shame or intent to stop sleeping around to even think about marrying someone.

Celebrating the baby shower for Tom and Theresa planned today, the nature of the event to both Tom and Theresa is private and intimate, hence their invitations only being sent out to the closest friends of the Corleone family.

Only the Giordano’s, Barzini’s and Cuneo’s are invited today with the vast majority of the women helping with the cooking back inside and the men upstairs in Don Corleone’s office.

Despite the family history with the Giordano’s, this is the first time you’re attending a Corleone family event and the very first time you’ll be visiting the Corleone estate.

Your father and brothers have visited the Corleone’s numerous times previously and know them better than any other business partner or friend, but neither you nor Bella have had the opportunity to yourselves.

Bella is more than halfway through her first semester at the Academy of Fine Arts in Vienna however, leaving you to be the only woman of the family next to your mother.

With the baby shower celebrations ongoing this afternoon in the courtyard of the Corleone estate to enjoy the fresh spring air and sun, men seeing Vito Corleone inside present Don Corleone with gifts meant for the expecting couple out of respect first.

Connie carefully balances one gift box over another by a table reserved just for baby shower gifts, making sure the presents don’t topple over one another from solely the sheer number of how many there are.

Arriving just five minutes after your father and brother, your chauffer passes clearance at the main gates of the Corleone estate before slowly beginning to park inside.

Your father and brothers have joined Barzini and Cuneo’s sons upstairs in Vito’s office where Sonny, Tom and Fredo also remain, but Michael—the youngest son of the Corleone family—is away at Dartmouth College for study.

Once the topic at hand ends in Vito’s office, Tom will come back out to the courtyard to thank and meet all the guests at the baby shower himself.

The rest of the men are not expected to in order to keep a low profile and spend as much time discussing business with Don Corleone as possible.

The only Corleone family member you know personally is Carmella and you’ve enjoyed every bit of time you’ve gotten to spend with her in the past when Carmela came to visit and bake desserts with you and your mother from time to time.

You know you’ll be meeting Theresa—the one expecting—and Connie Corleone as well for the first time.

“Benvenuti, miei cari!” (Welcome, my darlings!) Carmela happily blurts as she rushes down to the gates to greet you and your mother the moment you two step out of the vehicle.

“Carmela!” Your mother beams, pulling her into a warm hug. “Come stai dolcezza? È da parecchio tempo!” (How are you, honey? It’s been so long!)

“Yes, it has!” Carmela lets out a soft laugh before she cups your cheeks gently. “È passato tanto tempo perché guarda Gabriella! Adesso è diventata una bellissima giovane donna!” (It has been so long because look at Gabriella! She's all grown up now into a beautiful young woman!)

“Hi, Mama Corleone,” you giggle back, giving her a hug. “It’s so good to see you again.”

“And you as well, honey—mwah,” Carmela kisses both of your cheeks again, “she’s grown up to be such a beauty, hasn’t she?”

“Very much so,” your mother happily agrees. “And I’m excited for her to meet your girls!”

“As am I!” Carmela gestures excitedly, “come on in, ladies. All the men are already inside seeing Vito, I doubt they’ll even bother to come step out but in any case—that doesn’t matter. We’re all very excited for Theresa expecting her little one soon!”

“How far along is she?” You ask, walking into the Corleone estate grounds with your mother and Carmela.

“She’s about seven months pregnant now,” Carmela answers. “I can’t wait to introduce you to her. I know all you lovely ladies will get along just fine!”

Before you can say anything else, you step into the Corleone estate’s courtyard with Carmela and your mother to be hit with awe from the beauty of the estate surrounding you.

A gazebo stands in the further end of the courtyard with the manor itself built in a classic American style but with small details to Italian architecture.

The courtyard in which you stand in is surrounded by a blossoming garden, spotless and filled with ample enough space to host over four hundred people comfortably.

“So beautiful,” you murmur in surprise; momentarily turning back to see your chauffer placing the carefully wrapped giftboxes filled with the presents your mother and you chose for the baby shower by the table with the other gifts.

For your baby shower gift to Tom and Theresa, you picked out an abundance of cotton diapers, two bibs, three different pacifiers and a baby mat.

As your mother and Mama Corleone are lost in conversation, you look up to see a heavily pregnant woman—Theresa—rise up from her seat at her table with her hand over her baby bump.

Petite frame, blonde with bright eyes and American, Theresa’s eyes land on you as another woman approaches her by her side—a Sicilian—who looks like a striking combination of Carmela and Vito combined.

You assume this must be Connie—the only daughter of the Corleone family that your mother and Mama Corleone lead you up to now for introductions.

“Here is our lovely Theresa!” Carmela gestures to the pregnant young woman. “Seven months in with her little one already. Theresa, this is the daughter of my best friend, Gabriella. Her family is from Sicily too.”

“Hello,” Theresa shyly reaches out her hand to you. “It’s nice to meet you, Gabriella.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Theresa,” you give her a polite smile, shaking her hand back. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you!” Theresa’s eyes light up.

“And this is my daughter, Connie,” Carmela introduces Connie to you next, and you immediately notice Connie is much less shyer than her sister-in-law Theresa with a sparkle of excitement in her eyes from being introduced to you.

“Hi Gabriella,” Connie grins, “are you the only daughter in your family too?”

“Not exactly,” you let out a laugh, “I have a twin sister but she’s studying abroad.”

“Ah, lucky you! I’m the only sister,” Connie gives your hand a warm squeeze.

“I know what it’s like to grow up with many brothers around you, trust me,” you giggle back, knowing from what your mother told you that the Corleone’s are almost just as big of a family as yours and with many sons.

“Tell me about it,” Connie holds back her laughter and it immediately strikes you that Connie appears to be type of woman you can easily get along with and make the best of friends with her.

Just as warm, loving and trusting as Connie seems, you also can’t push past or ignore how you pick up an explainable kind of yearning sadness behind Connie’s eyes too.

Just as you’re thinking, Connie’s yearning to make a friend with someone like you and knowing she can easily be able to do so considering how close your families are; both of you around the same age and with familiar backgrounds.

Back inside Don Corleone’s office, greetings, congratulations and humble gift giving to Vito Corleone for Tom and Theresa’s baby shower has come to an end as Tom smiles to himself and keeps the stack of guests in the corner of Vito’s office and takes his seat again near his father.

A glass of richly aged bourbon is served for all of the men and Vito’s office door remains slightly ajar to help keep the air from getting stuffy from cigarette smoke.

“But the war,” Sonny begins, unamused, “it doesn’t mean too much for us, anyway.”

“Not at all,” your father says, shaking his head. “It’s a shame with all the bloodshed going on in Europe right now, but our interests remain the same and our assets here are protected.”

“We expect a prosperous new decade of us nonetheless,” Don Barzini adds.

“As do I,” Vito agrees. “One can only be concerned so much as to what strangers abroad are doing or how they risk their lives. We must work together so there’s no war between our families and only peace.”

“I have to say,” Tom speaks up, “to have no rivalry despite working with our families and their investments is impressive, Mr. Giordano.”

“I appreciate your praise, Tom,” Francesco gives Tom a polite smile. “In this line of work, I had to be a salesman and businessman. I hope our families can continue to be civil and work with one another. I know my wife enjoys the company of our family get-togethers and it would also be good for Gabriella as well, considering her sister is in Austria.”

“Ah, how is she?” Vito’s eyes light up in interest. “Enjoying her time abroad?”

“Indeed,” your father nods happily, “Bella is taking a varieties of courses on subjects in the arts, especially music and literature It’s good for her to broaden her horizons but I miss her, and I think Gabriella does too, of course.”

“Ah, very understandable,” Don Cuneo nods.

‘Gabriella?’ Sonny blinks, thinking to himself. ‘Who is she?’

“Michael is the same,” Vito gives his shoulders a shrug. “He is at Dartmouth now and I am proud of him for entering study in political science.”

“He doesn’t wish to follow in your footsteps, Vito?” Don Barzini smirks.

“He wants no involvement whatsoever,” Vito shakes his head. “Which is more than fine with me. Michael seeks a career in politics. I say sometimes American politics can be so foolish, but Michael can also be stubborn when he wants to. Nonetheless,” Vito places his hands down upon his desk, “I’m very proud of him.”

“Indecisive, perhaps?” Your father suggests.

“Nah,” Sonny interrupts, scoffing. “Michael wants to do everything and anything.”

“He is the youngest after all,” Tom chuckles quietly. “Then my sister Connie who is the youngest child of the family.”

“Ah, the lovely Connie,” Francesco smiles warmly, “of course. Michael is a bachelor, then?”

“All my sons are, except Tom,” Vito answers, somewhat unhappy about his answer. “Perhaps that will change, won’t it, Fredo?” Vito gives Fredo a gentle pat on the shoulder.

“Sure, Pop,” Fredo says back sheepishly.

“And Santino’s a different story,” Vito continues, gesturing to his eldest son.

“I dunno,” Sonny chuckles to himself, shrugging his shoulders. “Marriage isn’t really something on my mind just yet, you know.”

“Would you like to marry in the future, though?” Don Cuneo asks him.

“I do,” Sonny nods, “have some kids, a family—settle down, yeah. Why not? I just don’t think I got any opportunity to now but I’m not the kind of man who would push it all away.”

Vito nods, staring back down at his drink in hopes the conversation about Sonny being a bachelorette will change in the next few moments, for the sake of the Corleone family’s dignity.

Vito knows everyone else in the room is just as away of Sonny’s promiscuous behaviour and lifestyle as he is, after all.

Out in the courtyard with the ladies and you, most of the conversation continues with your mother, Theresa and Carmela, all giddy about Theresa’s pregnancy.

“Congratulations again, honey,” your mother tells Theresa, “how has it been for you so far? An easy pregnancy, I hope.”

“A little difficult, honestly,” Theresa admits, sheepishly. “It’s improving though.”

“It will for baby number two as well,” Carmela chimes in.

You turn back to Connie and smile, inviting a conversation of your own that she starts.

“Welcome, Gabriella,” Connie says to you, “it’s honestly nice to put a name to a face at last. Mama has told me a bit about you and your sister but we surprisingly never had the chance to meet.”

“I know,” you pout, “I wish we could have met one another much sooner. My twin sister is in Austria right now, actually, so she has no chance at all yet. You know, touring Western Europe when she feels up to an adventure. I’m not so lucky or adventurous though,” you laugh.

“Neither am I,” Connie admits, “it’s refreshing to meet someone like you. What’s Bella in Austria for?”

“Art school,” you reply, smoothening out your shirtwaist dress. “Art has always been a passion for Bella, mostly music, literature and art history.”

“Must run in the family then,” Connie beams at you, “mama told me both you and your mother are artists too.”

Flattered, you nod eagerly with a smile. “We’d like to say so! It runs within the ladies of the family. I adore fine art like sculpture and art history, but personally, it’s not my passion.”

“Applied arts then, maybe?” Connie offers, growing further interested in the conversation at hand.

“Something like that,” you ponder for a moment, “I prefer painting, like mama. I’ve always loved doing so.”

“Wow,” Connie murmurs to herself, “do you have any inspirations for making art?”

“Maybe not the answer you’re looking for—” you chuckle sheepishly, “but I’d honestly have to say emotions inspire me, and my environment. Even the weather—small things like that. Artists like Van Gogh and Monet also inspire me.”

“That’s amazing,” Connie brushes back a curtain of her dark hair behind her ear. “Mama had actually been telling me earlier about the private art school your mother teaches at and…I was honestly thinking about enrolling to get a feel for myself but I wasn’t entirely too sure.”

“Definitely go for it,” you can scarcely hide the enthusiasm in your tone. “Mama would be more than happy to guide you along the way too. I still attend when I have the time and you could too for passion or for credentials. There’s something for everyone.”

“Absolutely,” your mother chimes into the conversation. “I would love to show you around the school as well, Constanzia. Someday, Gabriella will have to show you her paintings.”

“I would like that very much,” Connie smiles back politely. “I can tell she’s very talented.”

“Thank you,” you blush.

“She’s a nurse by trade, did you know that?” Mama Corleone adds, causing both Theresa and Connie’s eyes to widen in surprise.

“I am,” you admit, noticing how proud your mother looks next to you. “Practice and passion versus hobbies and passion.”

“Wow,” Theresa breathes, “that’s wonderful. How do you like nursing, Gabriella?”

“So far, so good,” you giggle quietly. “I’m fairly new to the practice but I’ve been tending to some injured soldiers lately. It’s practical, and I’m excited to see where the career takes me.”

“A nurse at a baby shower, how nice!” Theresa gushes.

With business conversation endlessly continuing in Vito’s office, Sonny remains to be the only one itching to get out of his seat and at least take cigarette break from the stuffy talk he has no need to contribute too.

Then again, Sonny’s more obligated to listen and consider every word coming out of Vito’s mouth wisely due to being his father’s successor and having to expect the same business talks directed towards him someday.

“You can tell Luca,” Vito gestures to Sonny, grabbing his attention. “Give him a call and let him know, since he won’t listen to Tom anyway.”

Chuckles fill the room as Sonny gives a nod, sighing in relief under his breath and beginning to rise from his seat.

You’ve just stepped into the Corleone manor for a quick bathroom break after getting some much needed directions from Connie on how to navigate the estate; unable to stop yourself from gazing and admiring the furniture and fixtures of the stunning foyer.

Remembering Connie’s words on reaching the first bathroom, you begin to head down the hallway when you momentarily stop in your tracks to sneeze.

Covering your nose, you sneeze quietly and sniffle—instantly feeling a momentary sharp prickle in your nostrils.

Blinking, you continue walking forward—albeit slowly—due to being distracted by the small throbbing pain beginning to start in your nose.

“Ugh…” You rub your nose tenderly, eyes widening in surprise to see droplets of blood over your fingers.

A split second passes before you sneeze again, realizing the culprit is the stuffy and somewhat dust filled air in the hallway getting to you.

It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve experienced something similar, but it annoys you to no avail nonetheless.

You cover your nose and continue heading towards where you assume the nearest bathroom is, being careful so as not to spill any blood on the mahogany floorboards or onto your dress.

“Found it yet?!” You hear Connie’s voice echo down from the foyer as she peaks her head inside the estate.

“Yes, don’t worry!” You let out a half muffled call back, spotting the bathroom at the end of the hallway.

“Alright, I’ll wait for you back outside!” Connie shouts, shutting the front door behind her.

The “yes, don’t worry!” you proclaimed out catches Sonny’s interest instantly; the sound of an unfamiliar, yet sweet voice he’s never heard before.

Stunned, Sonny’s unable to focus on anything else and drowns out the chatter and noise from Vito’s office before he exits out into the hallway and shuts the door of Vito’s office behind him.

You sneeze again, whimpering out of annoyance as you feel blood beginning to trickle from your nose.

Following every sound you make, Sonny furrows his brows and walks downstairs and towards the hallway cautiously—both hands in the pockets of his dress trousers.

Only a split second later does Sonny spot you; an unfamiliar woman with your back facing him, wearing a burgundy swing dress with white kitten heels, your hair curled over your shoulders and more peculiarly, how you clutch your hand over your nose.

“Are you alright?” Sonny speaks out to you, coming closer to step into your line of view.

You blink, assuming one of the Corleone family’s bodyguards or security must have heard you sneezing and walking around the manor by now, but when you turn around you can tell just by the posture and amused expression over the stranger’s face that he’s neither.

Sonny and you don’t know one another nor have you seen each other before. You’re not even aware of what the Corleone men’s names are besides Tom and Vito, and you just learned Tom’s today through Theresa.

Blush instantly hits your cheeks as you feel your skin warm at the sight of Sonny. This man is tall with a slim but lean, fit build; sharp shoulders giving Sonny a firm build, his hair in brunette curls and his jawline chiselled with a smirk over his face.

There’s an air of confidence over Sonny and you can already tell with just a glance that he’s someone important.

You assume just by Sonny’s body language across from you that aggressiveness isn’t unheard of from him, but he seems intrigued and even friendly towards you.

“Oh, fine, thank you,” you answer back, still covering your nose. “I didn’t imagine it to be so stuffy down here.”

Sonny chuckles, stepping closer to you before taking one hand out of his pocket to gesture around to the walls. “The walls in this place are older than you and be combined. Don’t mind that.”

You gaze up at Sonny, unable to stop yourself from blushing as he gets closer to you.

You lower your hand away from your face without even realizing it, revealing your bloody nose to Sonny.

Sonny barely reacts to the sight of blood over your face but the look upon his face that he gives you doesn’t appear the way one would gaze at a stranger or someone they’ve met for the first time; the look in Sonny’s eyes may as well tell him he’s known you his whole life.

Sonny wants to ask you if he’s seen you somewhere or if the two of you know each other from some time ago, but something urges him to keep quiet, knowing the answer must be no.

Sonny’s muscles tense from a rush of arousal hitting him at the sight of you, already wildly attracted to you with no intention of denying it.

“Here,” Sonny reaches into the breast pocket of his suit jacket, pulling out a neatly folded, silk handkerchief before handing it to you. “Don’t let it bleed all over you now.”

You hesitate for a moment, not at Sonny’s kindness but the expensive cloth he’s just handed you to wipe your nose with.

A warm, playful smile crosses Sonny’s lips as he reads through your hesitancy. “You’re Gabriella, aren’t you?”

Sonny knows better. An unfamiliar woman in his house with Mr. Giordano visiting? He’s already beginning to figure you out. Luckily, he didn’t assume you’re Bella.

“I am,” blushing, you answer a little out of breath and take the silk handkerchief from Sonny. “Thank you so much…” Your voice trails off as you realize you don’t know this man’s name.

“Santino Corleone,” Sonny introduces himself t you. “But everyone calls me Sonny.”

‘So he IS a Corleone…’

“Sonny,” you repeat, feeling your cheeks stinging with blush. “Thank you.”

Sonny grins, extending out a hand to shake yours as you wipe your nose with your free one. “It’s nice to meet you at last, Miss Giordano.”

As you shake Sonny’s hand back, you feel the same current of arousal rushing through him go through you.

“We haven’t met before, have we?” Sonny finally asks, unable to shake off the belief that he’s more than just familiar with you.

“This would be the first time,” you shake your head, “it’s nice to meet you as well. I’ve yet to meet your whole family yet, but,” you smile shyly, “thank you for having us to celebrate Tom and Theresa.”

“Thanks for coming,” Sonny smirks, “you’ve probably met Theresa already but Tom will be out in a moment and then you can see him too.”

You don’t notice Sonny’s eager eyes gazing up and down at your figure a split second after.

“Were you looking for someone or something?” Sonny asks you.

“Just the bathroom,” you admit, sheepishly. “I…” Your nose has fortunately stopped bleeding, but you look at the silk handkerchief in your hand to see the crimson mess staining through it.

“Don’t worry about it, darling,” Sonny scoffs; he couldn’t care less about the damn handkerchief.

“If you insist,” you begin to carefully fold the handkerchief in the palm of your hand. “It’s just about the whole reason why I came in.”

“Fair enough,” Sonny forces his eyes off of yours, gesturing further down the hallway. “Unless the whole baby shower is waiting for you to get back, I’ll help you out here. Give you a tour of the estate and every bathroom you can find in here.”

“Oh, Mr—” you correct yourself immediately, “Sonny—I would like that very much but I don’t want to interrupt what you’re doing for something like that—”

“Believe me, I insist,” Sonny interrupts, smiling at you. “Guests come first. It’s really no problem. Let me give you a proper tour around here.”

“Alright then,” you accept, smiling back at him. “If it’s no trouble with you, I’d love to.”

“Alright then, Miss Gabriella,” Sonny moves next to you, leading the way out of the hall. “Stay close to me, alright?”

Blushing furiously, you nod back at Sonny who looks over at you behind his shoulder. “I’m with you.”

There’s no doubt about it; had you refused to go along with Santino and returned back to the baby shower or simply didn’t choose to communicate or see Sonny again after today, of course your life would be different. Either way, it would have changed.

What would you know now in this fleeting moment that couldn’t possibly mean anything else to you, trusting in this influential man son to a powerful Don that you just met, feeling as if he’s suddenly wanted to treat you as someone else in his home other than a guest?

If anyone asked years from now, you would tell them the truth. Yes, you would follow Santino Corleone to the ends of the earth, to hell if you had to and beyond that to meet him in whatever life awaited you next.

This is just the beginning of what destiny has spelled out for you side to side with a man like Santino Corleone.

But for now, you follow Sonny in hopes you’ll get to know this kind stranger and the Corleone family better, because your heart is bound to give in sooner rather than later.

#the godfather #james caan #sonny corleone x reader #sonnycorleone x oc #sonny corleone fanfic #godfather au #sonny corleone smut #sonny corleone x reader smut #sonny corleone #the godfather x reader #godfather x reader #santino corleone x reader #santino corleone x oc #santino corleone fanfic #santino corleone smut #santino corleone x reader smut #santino corleone #mafia wife fic #mafia wife fanfic

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melis-writes · 8 months

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The Other Woman [Michael Corleone x Reader Multichapter, 18+ Smut] Chapter 5 – A Part of The Family.

Read on AO3 / Read Chapter 4 / Chapter Masterlist / Fanfic Playlist.

18+, explicit smut read.

"Michael cares about you, don't forget that." / "Forget Kay. This has nothing to do with her."

With the Las Vegas gala approaching, you can neither get your mind off of spending the formal evening with the Corleone's nor do you hear the end of it at the Lake Tahoe compound. Growing closer with both Anthony and Mary who've begun to open up to you and enjoy your teaching, your career as the Corleone household's governess thrives and is noticed by Michael and Kay for different reasons altogether. Kay has slowly begun to doubt her parenting skills from observing you whereas Michael is no longer waiting for you to give in but making his first move. In the meanwhile, what you've learned about the Corleone family only further convinces you Michael may be living in Vito Corleone's legacy, but is nothing like the bloodthirsty mafiosi that killed your brothers. Patience between the sexual frustration mounting between you two will take you both to Las Vegas, but Michael intention isn't to be the center of attention at a gala his family his hosting–it's to make you his.

[WARNINGS]: Sexual themes & mentions.

[AUTHOR'S NOTE]: Another chapter is finally here and an important one marking the end of this "slow burn" between Michael and Marina. 🤭💓 Michael won't stop to get at what he wants and he's no longer waiting for Marina to give in because he knows she can't in front of everyone and peering eyes, of course. 😳 Next chapter and onwards will be scandalous and promiscuous Michael's waited until the Las Vegas gala and he's going to make his first move, if it wasn't obvious in this chapter! 😈

Hired by the Corleone family as a governess, you relocate to the Lake Tahoe family compound, looking forward to your future in Nevada until you meet your employer—Michael Corleone. Your future is then ensnared only in lust and forbidden love for Michael since the beginning, and you find yourself yearning for a married man you can never have. Desire and passion clash with one another as Michael takes you to be his mistress—only having an exclusive sexual relationship with you while his sex life with Kay dies out. Knowing from the beginning you’ll never truly be with Michael and that your place in his life is worlds apart from Kay’s as the other woman, the love you have for him consumes you until it threatens to burn out everything you’ve ever had with Michael.

“I know you’re not used to these sorts of things,” Michael’s tone of voice is low and soothing, his words velvety as he speaks them so close to the side of your neck that you can feel his soft breath on you.

Your heart thunders in your chest from arousal and excitement coursing through you as you linger by the doorway of Michael’s office; refusing to step out and away from this man for as long as you possibly can.

“You will be,” Michael continues, taking a step closer to you and standing directly behind you, “as you get to understand my family name and the hospitality the Corleones offer.”

“Yes, sir,” you breathe back, barely audibly as the scent of Michael’s cologne hits you again.

Michael gazes at your back before letting his eyes wander admiringly over your figure, the curve of your hips and the shape of your thighs clinging against your pencil skirt. “Stay by me throughout the evening and you’ll be fine—if it comes to that.”

You give a small nod, slowly turning around to face Michael as you speak to him. “As long as I’m not disturbing your evening.”

You cannot push away the idea of possibly being a burden to the Corleones on such a special evening and social gathering, seeming as if you constantly need to be watched lest you somehow act out of line or do something wrong in front of hundreds of wealthy investors and businessmen.

“Nonsense,” Michael affirms, looking you in the eyes. “You’re not a burden, you’re my governess. You’re my guest.”

You surprise yourself with how you’re able to step out of Michael’s office without stumbling over your own two feet after having that conversation come to an end.

The tips of your ears and your cheeks sting, burning with blush as all you can think is how Michael’s planning to have this evening be tailored to you and your comfort up to the point where he’s picked out your gown for the evening.

As you make your way out of the Corleone estate and back to your living quarters, you remind yourself that even if you think Kay knows Michael’s done such a thing, you’ll keep everything and anything that happens between you and Michael all to yourself.

‘Everything should be fine.’

You don’t think Kay would mind too much but then again as you think it over, the idea of having your husband pick out an evening dress for another woman stirs a bit of jealousy inside of you that you don’t think Kay is immune to herself.

Maybe Kay would look too deep into it; perhaps Kay knows her husband isn’t the type of man to just “pick” out a dress for someone and since Kay knows Michael like the back of her hand and you don’t, the possibilities are endless.

Kay’s mind may first go to Michael being generous and picking out a dress for you simply because you forgot to choose, or he chose a random one simply for the sake of saving time for the order, but if it comes to overthinking Michael’s picked out an evening dress for you because he thought about what color adorns your skin and body perfectly and what he’d like to see you in… It would mean trouble.

There’s nothing going on between you and Michael that you’re entirely aware of for the time being, but even having the slightest bit of a crush on a man like Michael Corleone must absolutely not be given away or told to anyone.

If you let your fantasies and the beat of your heart delude you into assuming something more with Michael, you may find yourself outed to people for trying to flirt and be with a married man who seems all too unattainable to you even if he was a bachelor.

Nobody can know how you feel about Michael; not now, and not ever. You know your heart would be better off if he doesn’t catch onto how you feel either.

All throughout the week, the only thing mentioned back and forth again with excitement and anticipation is the upcoming gala in Las Vegas this Saturday.

Whether you hear it giddily from Kay or Connie whose been carefully curating the perfect outfit for the evening makes no difference; there’s a thrill sparking inside you when you think of attending your first black tie event with the Corleone family that more often than not blends in with the amount of nervousness you feel about it too.

“That’s what I’m saying!” You overhear Kay excitedly exclaiming to Sandra over in the kitchen. “The family has come so far. I’m honestly so proud of Michael, he does so much for us. All that’s mentioned in Reno and Las Vegas in the business is our family name, you know that? It’s incredible how we’ll we’ve done.”

Something tells you however that Michael hasn’t and most likely won’t be giving Kay all of the details about his or the family’s business but if it’s one thing you’ve learned, it’s just how powerful and influential the Corleone family truly is.

‘Michael Corleone is a hell of a businessman and a good one at that…’

The topic of the Las Vegas gala is all the more unavoidable the closer you are to Kay which is consistent throughout the day as you teach the children, quietly mark homework, and take a break while going through some paperwork.

Sandra, Connie, and Theresa both share the excitement and anticipation for the gala, but none come near the unmatched enthusiasm of Kay.

Of course, Kay’s experience is just as incomparable as her excitement for the gala as being Mrs. Corleone has its benefits and luxuries others won’t share or come close to having

Michael and Kay Corleone together are the hosts of the gala and all eyes and ears will be on them throughout the night above all.

“Hopefully we’ll manage to enjoy a good dinner together,” you hear Kay sigh, “I just know the minute Michael arrives, all of his business partners will do anything to get a word in with him first. They won’t want to leave him alone.”

You find yourself blushing at the mention of Michael’s name, no longer catching yourself or mentally scolding yourself for it.

You wish you can be the one holding Michael’s attention consistently throughout the evening as if it was up to you, you would want him all to yourself for the remainder of the event regardless of whose desperate to talk business matters with Michael.

As Kay’s conversation with Sandra fades off onto another subject, you brush the topic out of your mind and continue focusing on your lesson planning for the day.

You ensure you’ve double-checked your planner so there’s enough time in tomorrow’s lesson for enough repetition and homework check, but also sufficient time to introduce a new unit without all of it being overbearing in one lesson.

‘A final little test for Twinkle Twinkle Little Star for piano should wrap up this unit before we learn another piece…’ Distracted, you haven’t realized that the estate has gone completely quiet except for a faint giggle coming from Kay.

Blinking, you sit up straight on the couch in the living room—expecting Kay or Sandra to walk in only to see Michael enter a split second later.

Your face flushes a shade of scarlet instantly from the blush stinging your cheeks, watching as Michael himself remains distracted by adjusting his gold watch over his wrist.

‘God…’ Your muscles tense up from arousal as you eye Michael eagerly, letting a swarm of butterflies rush over you at the sight of him.

Michael’s dressed in a wine-red dress shirt with the first three buttons undone, no tie, black dress trousers, matching leather belt, and white socks.

If you’d missed the sight of him for a few seconds longer, you’d have already picked up on his heavenly sandalwood and musk cologne filling the living room only adding to your sexual tension when you see a peek of Michael’s chest hair from his dress shirt.

Michael’s hair appears slightly damp as if he’s showered recently but a light layer of gel shines through his black locks, neatly slicked back and parted from the middle.

It’s obvious Michael has no intention to be dressed for business and professionalism right here and now, but his appearance is still sharp, and cleans up very well.

Just as Michael finishes clasping his watch over his wrist, he makes direct eye contact with you.

Your heart races in your chest as you give him a shy smile back; hoping to yourself out of embarrassment Michael didn’t notice you gawking at him the entire time before he looked over at you.

Only the thought of what it would be like to be held in Michael’s arms, nuzzle his neck to pick up that scent of cologne so close to you before beginning to kiss his warm skin and lead down to his collarbones takes precedence over your mind.

You can’t stop yourself from fantasizing about the man right in front of you, thinking, ‘God, what I would do to…’ You picture yourself unbuttoning down the rest of Michael’s shirt to kiss and lick up his chest; gladly getting down on your knees right away to undo his belt.

Only a brief moment passes as Michael begins to button up his dress shirt at the sight of you for the sake of being professional and not coming off as sloppy although Michael himself would prefer to show you more as well.

Michael gives you an acknowledging nod back to your smile before he exits from the living room, but the scent of his cologne remains as if his presence is still in here and so does the lingering feeling in your heart.

You can practically feel your heart aching and the sensation growing heavier and heavier upon each confrontation and conversation; you can no longer stop yourself from feverishly desiring this man nor do you want to.

‘Stop, Marina. Just stop… You’re doing this to yourself.’

You squeeze your eyes shut, desperately trying to block out any thought and mention of Michael Corleone from your head for just one minute.

‘I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I did this to myself.’

[ 1 Day Before The Las Vegas Gala ]

Having wrapped up your last lesson before the Las Vegas gala, you spent the last bit of your day doing homework review with all your students to start with a new learning unit next week for everyone.

In the morning, you reviewed math and history worksheets with the Hagens and Sandra’s children, then had a private review session with Anthony as requested by his parents before now doing the same with Mary to end your day.

In the Corleone estate’s study room, you and Mary sit side by side at the center study desk, overviewing a math worksheet from earlier this week.

With the evening air setting in and light rain out, you can see the glisten of the compound’s security lights slowly rotating around the estates outside and enjoy the soft sounds of rain surrounding the estate.

“Anthony says it’s easy,” Mary pouts at the worksheet in front of her, looking at the multiplication homework.

“Maybe it’s easy for him, but not for everyone and that’s okay,” you give Mary a reassuring smile. “We all learn differently, don’t we?”

“Hmm…” Mary peeks up at you, feeling somewhat relieved. “All the homework is easy for you, right Miss Marina?”

“You think it is?” A playful grin forms over your lips.

“Maybe,” Mary giggles, shrugging her shoulders. “Because you teach math really well.”

Unbeknownst to both of you, Kay made her way down the hallway and towards the study room just a few moments prior to pop her head in and take a peek as to how the homework review is going, only to remain in front of the ajar study door and out of sight instead.

Kay thinks to herself that she’ll enter the study room at the perfect moment and chime in on the topic of homework to see Mary’s progress face to face but without interrupting your review and explanations to Mary.

“Why thank you,” you give Mary a beaming smile, “I try my best, but believe it or not, I wasn’t very good at math when I was growing up.”

“Really?” Mary’s eyes widen in disbelief, “no way! How?”

Kay smiles, gazing at her daughter between the crack of the door as she continues listening in on the conversation, clasping her hands together in front of her.

“See,” you chuckle, “when it comes to a subject like math, once you know what you’re doing step by step, all the answers start to come to you and they begin to make sense. That’s why when we do multiplication homework like this,” you hold up the worksheet in your hands, “we like to see and write down all of the steps we took to get the answers for these numbers, right?”

“Right,” Mary nods, looking back at the worksheet.

“So it’s all about understanding and learning the steps first. Then you got it,” you set the worksheet back down on the desk, “and you already did so well on this, Mary. I’m proud of you. Even for the questions you got wrong here,” you gesture to the paper, “you tried, you put in the work and all your steps. That’s why we go through them now, right? So we can see where we made our mistakes and how we can correct them.”

“Yeah,” Mary giggles to herself. “It… It was fun!”

“Oh yeah?” Your eyes light up, “it was, wasn’t it? Maybe not so much the whole homework part, but—” both of you burst out laughing in unison. “But the learning was probably the most fun!”

“Learning with you, Miss Marina,” Mary adds, nodding happily.

Kay feels nothing but joy in her heart to see that sparkle in Mary’s eyes speaking for her enthusiasm and how she’s genuinely improving in her math lessons with you then and there.

“I’m very happy to hear that,” you can’t help the growing smile on your lips. “Actually, maybe you’re the first student to say that homework might be a little fun too!”

It’s when Mary exclaims, “Miss Marina is the best!” and gleefully leans in to give you a hug that the proud and joyful smile on Kay’s face begins to fade.

Kay moves her hand away from the study door, watching as you hug Mary back and say, “and you’re the best student!”

It’s not that Kay’s unable to show her own daughter affection or receive any in return—of course, Mary hugs her mother—but it’s the snuggling and the bubbly attitude of Mary’s she consistently keeps up with you and is more than comfortable in your presence is something Kay has had difficulty keeping up with her own children.

Feeling a sharp pain tugging at her and hating herself for letting a wholesome moment between student and governess hit this close to her own struggles, Kay bites down on the corner of her lip before turning back on her heel and walking away.

Mary and you haven’t noticed a thing, and it’ll only be another five minutes until the homework review is officially wrapped up and Mary skips off back to her room to get ready for bed.

As you begin to organize and tidy up the rest of your paperwork remaining on the desk, you hear a soft knock at the door and recognize that rhythm of knocking can only come from one person—Tom Hagen.

“Evening, Marina,” you hear Tom’s voice just a moment after. “May I come in?”

“Of course,” you look back towards the door, greeting Tom with a smile as he walks into the study and quietly shuts the door behind him.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Tom says sheepishly, noticing the pile of paperwork over your desk.

“Definitely not,” you let out a soft laugh, pushing the paperwork in front of you toward the corner of the desk.

“Finishing up for the night?” Tom chuckles.

“Something like that,” you turn in your chair to face Tom.

“How do you feel about tomorrow afternoon?” Tom asks, shifting the conversation over to the Las Vegas gala as you expected him to.

Both of you exchange an understanding glance, knowing the conversation would come to this.

“Well…” You open your mouth to answer before pausing and remaining quiet for a moment as you ponder what to say back to Tom. “I can say I feel strongly towards it.”

“Mm,” Tom nods, smiling at the floor. “I thought so, which doesn’t sound like a bad thing coming from you. It is your first time traveling to and attending a gala, isn’t it?”

“It is,” you confirm. “I’m a little anxious about it but excited. You know, I’m sure that same excuse has been made a million times over, so,” you laugh quietly to yourself. “I don’t know.”

“Sure, but that’s normal,” Tom replies back. “It’s a formal gala and this one only takes place every few years, especially on the anniversary date for the Corleone family business in Reno and Las Vegas.”

“Did Michael send you?” You give Tom a small smile, thinking this may just be last-minute reassurance on Michael’s behalf since you don’t expect him to come into the study to talk with you one on one at this hour.

Only a split second later do you feel embarrassment wash over you, wondering why you just asked Tom that.

“No?” Tom blinks in confusion, “I thought I’d come to check in on you.”

“Don’t think me ungrateful, Tom,” you giggle, “I get it. I really appreciate it. I just thought Michael may have sent you because he’s essentially said the same to me.”

“Of course he did,” an amused grin forms over Tom’s lips. “Which is why he’d want me to tell you that if you do have any questions or concerns, Michael would want you to voice it to him directly, not to me or even through me.”

“That makes sense,” you blush, glancing away.

‘If it’s an excuse to see and talk to Michael, I’ll take it…’

“Michael as I can already guess,” Tom rolls his eyes before laughing to himself, “wants you to feel as comfortable and welcome at the gala as you do here. Still think he’s intimidating?”

You glance back at Tom and the two of you stare at each other for a moment before you both burst out laughing.

“No?” you say through your laughter, covering your mouth.

“I know, I know,” Tom holds his hands up in surrender. “I hate to word it that way, but I just had to ask. I know Michael can be when he wants to.”

“Maybe so,” you lean back in your seat, “but I don’t really see it. I’m getting to know Michael better and understanding the kind of man he is as I am with the rest of the family.”

“Good,” a look of relief crosses Tom’s expression. “Then that’s all you need, hmm? We take very good care of our own, Marina. You don’t have to take my word for it,” Tom puts his hands into the pockets of his trousers, smiling at you. “And Michael cares about you, don’t forget that.”

“Michael cares about you, don’t forget that.”

Tom’s words linger with you long after he’s retired for the evening, and only then do they sink in and you find yourself begging your heart not to overthink it again.

Relaxing your muscles against your seat, you let out a soft breath and gaze around the study room, feeling accomplished to have finished your work for the day, planned next week’s lessons upon your return from the gala, and have all of your paperwork in order.

You’ve had a productive day at the very least, leaving you only to think about how tomorrow will be.

You know Esther went to bed early tonight, exhausted from keeping up with the children and you don’t blame her, but it leaves you without anyone to confide in tonight.

You’re still in the Corleone manor’s study after all but until the pouring rain begins to still or at least return to a drizzle, you doubt you can make it across the compound and back to your room without risk of catching a cold and being completely soaked.

‘No rush…’ You nibble on your bottom lip, pushing thoughts of the Las Vegas gala aside to think about tomorrow when it truly matters.

Brushing a curtain of your hair behind your ear, you stretch out your arms and let out a soft grunt as you rise up from your seat—deciding to indulge in a novel for a bit as you wait for the rain to settle down.

You move towards the bookshelves, stopping in your tracks for a moment to look at the sheer amount of bookshelves and selections remaining before you.

There are well over a dozen bookshelves on both sides of the study, placed for ample room so several people can pick and choose from one bookshelf at a time and so the study neither appears looking overcrowded or empty.

On each bookshelf remains small gold engraved labels stating what genre of books are on what shelf, particularly the books labeled under “history” further specifying years leading to language guides, fiction novels, first edition classics, non-fiction, and much more.

You blink at the selection, pleasantly taken back from so many choices that you almost feel overwhelmed at the thought of picking one novel when you could very well spend an endless amount of time in this study if you wanted to.

You walk over to one of the history-labeled bookshelves neatly organized with pressed newspapers, file folders, and leather-covered books next to well-preserved documents when you notice a label on the top shelf reading “FAMILY”.

You pause, wondering if this is a private section and if you should even be touching t in the first place.

Your eyes continue to wander over newspapers and documents on the top shelf as you gently pick through them with your finger so as not to cinch or damage any of the paper.

Starting at the very left side of the top shelf, common sense tells you that if there’s anything on this shelf—let alone in this study—that you’re not allowed to access or see, it wouldn’t be here.

The first few newspaper articles you touch over mention “CRIME FAMILY” with names of mafia families you’ve heard of and those you haven’t.

The names “Barzini” and “Tattaglia” stand out to you first and foremost, with the articles always mentioning the phrases “criminal underworld”, “boss”, or “big shot” to describe what you assume to be top-ranking mafiosi or the Dons of the crime families themselves.

Many of the newspapers you come across are dating chronologically from the start of the 1930s to all throughout the 1940s, consistently mentioning crime, the FBI, cases gone cold, or how the police are trailing them but it’s not until you get to 1946 that shock suddenly hits you.

You pull out a newspaper article with the front page reading: "VITO CORLEONE FEARED MURDERED: POLICE HUNT GUNMEN".

On the left side of the front page is a black and white portrait of Don Vito Corleone—Michael’s late father and on the right side, a photograph of the police and paramedics carrying a grievously wounded Vito in a stretcher.

‘Oh my God.’ You quickly set that article aside to read before finding another following it also dated in 1946 reading “POLICE CAPTAIN LINKED WITH DRUG RACKETS” next to a third article reading “POLICE HUNT COP KILLER”.

Setting those two aside with the article about Vito Corleone, the next article dated in 1947 you take out reads “THIRD MONTH OF GANGLAND VIOLENCE”.

‘There’s a pattern here…’ Moving towards the end of the shelf, you notice the coloring of the newspapers change—lighter and newer than the old articles you picked out.

Picking out the most recent newspaper placed last on the shelf, you find a blush hitting your cheeks immediately and almost dropping the article from your hands at the sight of a large black and white portrait of Michael himself on the front page; “MICHAEL CORLEONE: BUSINESSMAN THROUGH CORLEONE LEGACY”.

Gazing at the photograph of Michael, your heart rate begins to race in your chest once more—accompanied by a dizzying wave of butterflies.

Taking that last newspaper with the others you picked out, you look out towards the window and continue to hear the thundering rain.

The study door remains closed as Tom left it and you can’t hear any approaching footsteps, but then again you aren’t doing something you shouldn’t be, even if it may be embarrassing to explain to someone why you’re reading all of these old articles.

Funny enough, the recent article of Michael dated a month back would make the most sense, but not the others in your hands that you’re curious to read and learn more about.

“I mafiosi non sono tuoi amici. Ti useranno e poi ti uccideranno.” (Don’t trust Mafiosi as we did. Mafiosi are not your friends; they’ll use you and then they will kill you.)

You remember your mother and father’s warning words to you after the deaths of your brothers as you take the newspaper articles back to your desk to read.

These articles are nothing but mafia territory and an explanation of it; you know very well who Don Vito Corleone was and the legacy behind the Corleone family, after all.

Taking a seat and leaning your arms down on the desk, you begin to read the article “VITO CORLEONE FEARED MURDERED: POLICE HUNT GUNMEN”.

The article reads that Vito Corleone was found shot five times in the chest at close range while he was out with his son Fredo Corleone at a local fruit market.

It’s mentioned that Vito fell to his suspected demise in front of witnesses and passersby near the fruit stand who fled in terror.

Fredo Corleone—Vito’s son and on scene—was reported to be terrified beyond words; in a state of shock, sobbing and helplessly wailing over what he believed to be his father’s corpse.

Fredo was found by the police covered in his father’s blood and pleading with the paramedics and police officers to help.

You clasp a hand over your mouth, disheartened by what you’re reading.

Fredo is Michael’s older brother and you’re bound to meet him tomorrow as well—hearing from Kay that Fredo’s been in Hollywood for the past two months with his wife, famous actress Deanna Dunn who will also attend the Las Vegas gala.

‘This must be Fredo…’ Flipping the page, you see a somewhat blurry photograph of Fredo sobbing on the sidewalk with his face in his hands as Vito Corleone is taken away in a stretcher by paramedics.

The rest of the article continues to describe Vito as a “hot shot underworld gangster”, although such terms aren’t unheard of to you, especially growing up in Hell’s Kitchen.

The suspected gunmen are being investigated—the article states—and Fredo was also hospitalized due to his state of shock.

Lastly, before the article comes to an end, it mentions Vito Corleone is reported to be in critical condition and it’s not certain if he will make it or not.

The newspaper ends by saying this may be the start of violence as you or anyone else reading this article could have figured out since it’s all too common for full-blown mob wars to start when someone chooses to target a Don.

‘That’s a complete declaration of war, but were the police truly investigating?’ You assume that Vito must have had the police on his payroll for that to even take place.

‘And what about “POLICE HUNT COP KILLER”?’ At first glance of the front pages, you don’t recognize any correlation from the two newspapers but from their placement alone on the bookshelf, you know they must be related somehow.

As you read through both—comparing and contrasting dates and events noted in the articles as you go—you realize the dates of each article are just a week apart.

“POLICE CAPTAIN LINKED WITH DRUG RACKETS” was almost stuffed between “POLICE HUNT COP KILLER” on the shelf and revealed all of these events occurred within a week of each other.

The articles tell you that at a small, family-owned, Italian-American restaurant called Louis Restaurant, police Captain Mark McClusky was killed.

The article details that McClusky was shot once in the neck and then in the forehead at very close range and that he had been with a businessman named Virgil Sollozzo who was dining with him.

Sollozzo was also killed alongside McClusky; shot twice in the head which is suspected to be immediately after McClusky and both perished together at the dining table.

“My God,” you mumble to yourself, blinking at the headlines.

Naturally, it makes sense to you that one of the Corleone men—most likely a buttonman considering the stakes and killings done in a public restaurant—must have done this.

‘Does it have anything to do with Vito Corleone being shot? It must be. It has to be for revenge.’

When your eyes gloss over the next newspaper article reading “POLICE CAPTAIN LINKED WITH DRUG RACKETS” immediately tells you this police Captain McClusky himself was directly involved with the mafia and the dates can only further reveal it must have been either for Barzini or Tattaglia.

Those are the only two mafia families you’ve heard of that have corrupted themselves with smuggling and selling narcotics and you can already guess what a wide-scale scandal this headline must have created.

It makes all the more sense why a man like McClusky and Sollozzo would both be killed, especially together.

If it’s one thing you know about the mafia, it’s that they will not kill an innocent person deliberately; considering the mafia family at hand upholds Sicilian mafioso traditions and customs.

Mafia families have no room to appear anything less than decent and proper, lest they risk exposing their own corruption and members to law enforcement and the public eye.

With two shots in the head a piece—just like how your brothers were gunned down—you know Sollozzo wasn’t collateral damage; he was a target just as much as McClusky was.

Picking up the article titled “MICHAEL CORLEONE: BUSINESSMAN THROUGH CORLEONE LEGACY”, you sigh in relief to see the article has nothing to do with the others you’ve read.

Dated just a month ago, the up close and personal portrait of Michael on the front page has your heart racing and begging for you to stop gazing upon it again and again.

Turning the page, you immediately begin to read the article that explains to you how Michael Corleone, son of underworld bigshot Vito Corleone is a successful businessman on his own terms and by his own hard work and gain.

Vito Corleone himself may have been infamous but was also a respected man, and aside from generational wealth, Michael further gained a positive and lucrative reputation and opportunity for the Corleone family following Vito’s death.

Unlike Vito, the newspaper states Michael does not involve himself in bookmaking, racketeering, or other forms of crime found brewing n the mafia’s hand but invests in businesses, stocks, casinos, hotels, and resorts.

The article also names that the most successful and booming hotel resorts owned by the Corleones are the biggest ones in Reno and Las Vegas and that the Corleone family plans to continue expanding.

Michael’s stated to be very successful in all of the best ways possible building off of his father’s legacy, and is also noted to be a multi-millionaire who married his college sweetheart—a woman named Kay Adams Corleone—in 1951.

With the mere mention of “college sweetheart” alone, you find yourself frowning without even being aware of it—once again feeling a sting of jealousy hit you.

Reading past the part that says Michael and Kay have two children with each other, you’re just about to set the newspaper down and organize all of them to put them back on the shelf when you notice you left one article aside without touching it.

The last newspaper you set out has a bold headline reading “THIRD MONTH OF GANGLAND VIOLENCE” and when you pick it up, it details that over three months of violence ensued between the Corleones, Tattaglias, and Barzinis but even the newspaper has worded such “conflict” in a crafty way so as not to state it explicitly.

This article appears to be the next one chronologically dated after “POLICE CAPTAIN LINKED WITH DRUG RACKETS” and stresses that a bloody mafia war has cost the families in lives and millions with no sign of stopping or being sidetracked.

It’s only when you reach the very end of the article do your eyes widen in shock as you clasp a hand over your mouth.

The last bit states the eldest son of Vito Corleone and his protegee—Santino Corleone—was assassinated by what is suspected to be the Barzini family.

“Jesus…” You remember Tom briefly mentioning Santino, his, Fredo’s, and Michael’s eldest brother but from the looks of the article, it’s very apparent to you that Santino was a full-on mafioso and completely involved in all activities of the family.

You know you should have no pity in your heart for the death of any mafioso, but you can’t help yourself but feel empathy for Santino Corleone’s death even though you’ll never meet him or understand the man he was behind his criminal activities.

‘He was a Corleone too, after all.’

Finally setting down all of the newspapers before you in a neat pile, you take a deep breath and rub your sore eyes.

Your gaze meets up with the locked door of the study once more as you mentally remind yourself that you’re not doing anything “wrong” or “snooping” but that what you just did actually benefit you in learning more about the Corleone family on your own terms.

Everything you’ve just read may have explained the bloody mafia history behind the Corleone family name amidst others, but nothing shows you Michael is or was ever involved.

The article revolving around Michael practically sings of his praises, saying Michael is a young, witty, and cunning businessman who holds the reigns of the Corleone family and leads it to success.

Yet again, you have no second thoughts about Michael, no doubts in your heart about his integrity or honesty and you believe and trust in Michael to be a good person.

You want him to be and you trust him to be, just the way you trust Michael to show you that side of him to you tomorrow.

[ Next Morning ]

With the excitement ringing through the compound coming from the Corleone women up early to have bodyguards and chauffeurs begin packing their bags, you momentarily went into a panic thinking you must have slept into the afternoon.

Recognizing it Sandra, Connie, and Kay’s anticipation put them in a rush to get packed and ready, the first thing you do in the morning after refreshing in the bathroom and pulling on a simple shirtwaist dress is putting your one piece of luggage outside and next to Kay’s three to be loaded into one of the cars.

By the time you’re out to set your luggage down, Kay and the others are back in shouting hairstyle and makeup suggestions back and forth to each other to get it all done before the afternoon.

You smile to yourself, turning around and squinting your eyes up at the warm sun soaking over your skin. You know you won’t be spending half as much time getting glammed up for a plane ride to Vegas and that you’ve got ample time in your day to get ready.

Just as you’re about to turn back on your heel and head back to your living quarters to properly begin to get ready you hear Michael’s velvety voice calling for you from behind.

“Good morning, Marina,” you hear Michael speak as you stop in your tracks and suddenly you feel almost bare and hardly semi-presentable before him.

‘Oh my God.’ With instant reaction, your muscles clench from arousal in the presence of Michael—eagerly gazing at the new tailored, three-piece, black and silk Italian suit he’s wearing; black silk tie and gold cufflinks.

Michael’s hair is gelled back and parted through the middle neatly; not a single hair loose nor a wrinkle in his suit with all the awareness you’re not able to get your eyes off of him even if you wanted to.

“I hope you slept well,” Michael’s eyes meet yours as you turn around to face him; briefly admiring your natural beauty under the glowing rays of the sun.

‘This man… I swear.’

“Michael,” you breathe back, smiling at him. “As well as I could. I hope you have as well.”

Michael gives you a nod before gesturing his hand towards a bodyguard approaching from the other end of the compound, pointing towards your luggage in specific—not Kay’s or Connie’s.

“Thank you,” you whisper to the bodyguard who gives you an acknowledging glance before taking your luggage to pack next.

“It doesn’t hurt to be proactive and pack for this afternoon, however,” Michael glances back towards his and Kay’s estate. “Rest assured we’re still leaving at our planned time; no sooner, no later.”

“Right,” you chuckle. “I was just going to head back and get ready my—”

“ANTHONY! Anthony!” You hear Kay cry out from the estate in a hurry. “Sweetheart, don’t forget your tie! It’s not put on right! Come here, please.”

“Well,” Tom’s voice chimes in as he exits from the Corleone estate. “At this rate, we’ll all be ready by the afternoon. Hi, Marina.”

“Hi, Tom,” you give him a small wave, “are two cars taking us?”

“That’s right,” Michael nods.

“We might actually be back in three if…” Tom cringes, giving a short shrug. “If Fredo is bringing Deanna back to stay with us for a bit.”

Although you can tell Tom is more than just mildly irritated by the idea, you see Michael’s expression hardens at his suggestion but he doesn’t react further.

“Not something you look forward to?” You break the momentary silence falling in between you three.

“Uh,” Tom scratches the back of his neck, “I suppose not. Miss Dunn can be a handful and well, so can Fredo sometimes. You’ll see.”

Michael takes a step closer towards you before you three look back up towards the Corleone estate to see the front door burst open and Anthony snickering, rushing out with a loose tie over his neck and a helpless Kay following after him.

“Anthony, seriously!” Kay huffs, “Anthony, this isn’t funny! Get back here!”

‘Ah, Anthony…’

You notice as Tom grins and gestures towards Anthony. “Kid’s full of energy, what can you do? I’ll get him for you, Kay.”

“Thank you, Tom,” Kay sighs in relief, looking back over at Michael who redirected his gaze to yours almost immediately.

“Marina?”

“Yes?” The scarlet blush over your cheeks deepens.

“Walk with me,” he gestures, turning his back on Kay and the estate.

Nodding, you walk up closer to Michael and remain by his side as he leads you away from his estate and further back toward your living quarters, barely having acknowledged Kay in the midst of all that.

Kay blinks in confusion, watching Michael and you walk away together but from the exhaustion of keeping up with Anthony and hearing Mary calling back to her whining a bow fell out of her hair, Kay can’t keep her thoughts straight and think much else of it.

Michael doesn’t need to pull you away or talk to you privately, he simply prefers to.

“You’ve packed everything you need?” He finally asks you once you’re both away from anyone else’s hearing distance.

“Mhmm, everything’s good to go,” you reply back.

“There will be something else when you arrive at your hotel suite in Vegas,” Michael tells you.

“Something else…?” Your eyes begin to widen with curiosity.

“You’ll see when you get there,” Michael makes direct eye contact with you. “Kay tells me you have everything you two ordered…”

‘Ordered. You were the one who picked out that dress for me…’

“It’ll be ready in your suite as well when you arrive.” Michael finishes his sentence. “That’s all.”

‘What?’

“Right,” you nod back—the smile on your lips growing. “And thank you again for that, Michael. I can’t thank you enough.”

“You can thank me by wearing it,” Michael replies—surprising you with his response instead of saying “You don’t need to” or something similar when he hears you thanking him again and again. “I want to see you in it tonight.”

“Of course…” From Michael’s words alone, the arousal pumping through you feels as if your pussy has a heartbeat of its own despite your mind begging you not to take Michael’s words the way your body craves to.

“Is there anything else I can do to make your experience more comfortable?” Michael asks, putting his hands in the pockets of his trousers as you begin to approach your living quarters.

“I’m sure there’s a million more questions I’d like to ask but none of them come to mind,” you admit, sheepishly. “Knowing me.”

“Then as I’ve requested, stay close with me tonight,” Michael comes to a stop, facing you. “And then I’ll know.”

“I…” Blushing furiously, you give your head a small shake. “I know we talked about this and—”

“We did,” Michael reaffirms. “But I’m no longer suggesting it or offering it to you. I’m asking you to do it.”

“Wouldn’t Mrs. Corleon—”

“Forget Kay,” Michael interrupts, looking sternly into your eyes. “This has nothing to do with her. I want you there with me tonight, understood?” With your heart beginning to pound in your chest, you hardly have a moment to reply back to Michael before he adds, lowering his tone to a soft, ushered one, “Knowing you, I don’t know where else you’d want to be.”

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