#michael corleone x oc

[chicaboom-chic]

More Than Business- Michael Corleone x Reader

PROMPT: The reader is from a different crime family and she thinks he’s only marrying her for connections but he actually loves her.

Thank you @21witnokidz for the prompt.

WARNINGS: None, other than pretty shitty writing. (My cousin and I wrote this when we were drunk. Seriously guys this story is disjointed and weird. Sorry)

WORD COUNT: 3967 

There’s a moment where it hits you again; there it is that feeling of unease and formidable tension. It resurfaces in the silence, as you stare at Michael from across the room. You’re in his father’s office with him, he had whisked you away from the hectic party for a moment alone, a moment of brief intimacy. 

It was ironic the party was being thrown for the both of you but between the questions from the nosy aunts, cousins, and uncles, you and Michael had barely seen each other. And now even with your absence the party still raged on outside. Lively chatter and laughter could be heard from behind the office door, it was accompanied by the slow strum of a guitar and the sweet serenade of Italian songs.

Michael’s family and your family had congregated at the Corleone house. They had come toghether for a celebration of great measure, an engagement party; your engagement. Michael had proposed to you three months ago but had only announced your engagement two weeks ago. So naturally, a party had been thrown. Nearly everyone who knew your family and the Corleone family had turned up.

Don Corleone's house was littered with family, friends, politicians, and those alike, all of whose faces were twisted into smiles of great elation. In the parlor, the women sat, forming a small mother’s club where they caught up on gossip and talked about their children.

 Outside by the courtyard, the men congregated laughing as they took swigs of alcohol, downing drinks that they would definitely feel in the morning. And the kids were everywhere, they absolutely swarmed the place; you could only imagine what the rest of the Corleone house looked like.

It was a day of great joy… it was supposed to be. However, you couldn’t bring yourself to smile or even share the same level of excitement everybody had. It was your engagement party but you had never felt more restless and miserable.

Since the party had commenced a feeling of worry had been toiling in your stomach, which expanded the already deep chasm of doubt, that had managed to grow in size over the passing weeks.

What had started out as a silly afterthought, had now become a horrifying idea.

Is Michael using me?

In the last few months, a slew of thoughts had slipped their way into your subconscious, thoughts that made you question the intentions Michael had for asking for your hand in marriage.

Is Michael using me?

You shot a glance at Michael from your seat, retreating from your thoughts temporarily. He was by his father’s cabinet pouring himself a glass of whiskey. He noticed your prying gaze and met your eyes, he smiled at you warmly.

You smiled back, however, the smile didn’t reach your eyes. Instead, when you looked at Michael a pang of sadness hit you.

You fought the urge to frown as you thought back to the hushed business conversation Michael frequently had with your father after you had gotten engaged, you remembered the look of appraisal in his father, Vito’s, eyes when you were introduced to him as Michael’s fiancee. You remembered how surprised Tom looked when he registered your last name.

It had been right in front of you, all the signs were glaringly red.

Oh, God!

You tore your eyes away from Michael and looked down at your lap. In your lap sat your hands which you fiddled with uncontrollably.

How could I be so stupid? You thought bitterly. It all makes sense now.

Being the daughter of one of the wealthiest men in new york sometimes meant that men took interest in you for the wrong reasons. You also weren’t privy to your father’s business, which often attracted certain types of men.

You knew the ins and outs of your father’s business, the connections he had; connections that a family like Corleone’s would need.

Connections that Michael might need.

No, this can't be. 

You swallowed the lump that had been forming in your throat, biting down on your trembling lip to stop the whimper escaping from your lip.

It can’t be…

It was a sickening thought really, that perhaps Michal wanted you for what you could offer and not who you were. Maybe the love between the both of you was synthetic on his part; a mere ruse to obtain financial and business opportunities.

That in itself was bad enough, however, the sting of being used didn’t hurt as much as the sting of not being loved. In your mind, if Michael did love you and was using you, you could tolerate it to some level because at least he loved you. But whether he loved was a question that hung in the air, like a foul stench.

Did Michael love you?

Did he not?

It was painful to think about. You never considered that you would have to think about Michael this way. When you began dating Michael, the idea had never crossed your mind. 

Michael had just back from the war and had ended a relationship with a school teacher by the name of Kay, at the time you didn’t know he belonged to the Corleone family, he was very distant about his family.

After dating for a small amount of time you had found yourself utterly taken with him, practically obsessed. He was everything you longed for in a man. He was kind, gentle, and compassionate, he was also highly attractive which helped greatly. When he asked you to marry him you didn’t hesitate to say yes.

Now looking back on it maybe you shouldn’t have been so hasty.

If I had known I was to be a trading piece I would have-

“Y/n, what’s wrong? You’ve been really quiet.” Michael asked suddenly, breaking the silence that had been lingering between the two of you. His voice drew you from your thoughts and you looked up.

He was leering at you from his behind the desk, his face was a mixture of concern and curiosity. By now he had noticed the unease plastered on your face as well as the detachment you had from him. You had been silent for too long.

You looked at him, questioning whether it was wise to lie. Michael was rather receptive when it came to your emotions, he could notice the subtle changes in your mood. He would easily know if you were lying.

“Oh, it’s nothing, Michael.” You said as you shook your head. You opted to lie, knowing he wouldn’t press the matter further unless you gave him a reason to.

You straightened your shoulders and gave him your most convincing smile. “I’m just tired that’s all.” You chalked it down to fatigue, a plausible excuse, after all, today you had been very busy.

Michael nodded, and his eyes dropped from you momentarily. He placed his glass of scotch down on the desk and unloosened his tie. “Are you enjoying yourself this evening?” He asked. As he did so, he released an exasperated sigh.

Your eyes dropped from him, and you looked up to the ceiling. “Ummm, yes.”

No, Michael, I’m not. Are you marrying me for my family’s connections?

The thought fired past the many ones just like it in your head. But you merely ignored it. You sighed and looked away from the ceiling, looking back at Michael.

“How about you?” You said, trying to squash any feelings of doubt.

“Yes, though I didn’t get to talk with a lot of people as I was wrapped up in some things.” Michael walked away from the desk and sat on a chair at the other end of the room.

“However, I actually did manage to talk to your aunts though, rather they found me. We had some interesting conversations.” Michael laughed as he thought back to how your aunts had grilled him about whether big noses are a sign of good endowment in Italian culture.

“The women in your family are quite some characters!”

Michael’s voice filled the room as he continued to talk, he was more talkative than usual. He went on about the party. But his words were met with no replies, you weren’t really listening, you just nodded absent-mindedly at his comments. The bombardment of thoughts had already made it hard for you to hear.

Does he love me?

He says it all the time, but now I’m not sure.

But what else did I expect?

Of course, he’s marrying me for my father’s connections, do you think a girl like me would ever have a chance with a man like Michael if I didn’t have something to offer?

Your thoughts were spiteful and bitter, they pricked at you like a needle. They hurt you greatly but you couldn’t help but conjure them. You couldn’t help but believe they were true.

Your doubts continued as did  Michael’s chatter, however unbeknownst to you, he had stopped talking a while ago. He had noticed that you were engorged by silence, this was the second time you had become unresponsive.

“Have you eaten?” Michael asked. 

The question went over your head, you were too trapped in your thoughts.

“Y/n?” Michael’s voice suddenly peaked, having to have raised his voice for you to hear.

You jolted suddenly. “Pardon?” You met his gaze again.

“Did you eat? You said you were tired.” Michael was frowning now; it was a frown of concern.

You swallow hard. The room has suddenly become unbearably small as if it’s shrinking. You begin to feel unpleasantly warm.

I’m making a scene. Oh my god. He’s going to notice.

“I umm, I-. Look, Michael. I think I’m going to go home.” You avert your eyes from him after making your request.

You cringe the moment the request slips out of your mouth. It’s crazy, you know it is, it’s your engagement party, leaving would not only seem strange but raise more questions than you care to answer. But you just wanted to go home. 

The environment of the party was suffocating, it was suffocating to be around Michael.

“Leave?” Michael questions. You don’t have to look up to know there's a look of confusion on his face, his tone says it all.

“I know it’s a bit early, but I really want to go home.” You say truthfully. “If that's fine with you, that is.” You add in a small whisper.

“No, no it’s fine.” Michael's face softens. “If you feel tired you should go home.” He sounds understanding, and its comforts you slightly.

“I’ll think of an excuse for your absence, but first let me get someone to drive you home, I would do it myself but we both can’t go missing.”

“What are you going to do by yourself?” You ask curiously as you rise from your chair preparing to leave. You feel partially guilty that you’re leaving Michael here alone, but you know it’s for the best until these feelings subside. You wonder if time apart will clear your head.

“I still have some people to talk to.” Michael stands up from his chair, he stretches before fixing his tie. Then he walks over to you, offering you his hand to help you up.

You smiled at him warmly and took his hand, uprooting yourself up from the chair. When you stood up he planted a small kiss on your cheek. It made your smile widen. It was your first genuine smile of the night.

You then looked at Michael, properly this time, taking in the features of his face. There were lines under his eyes, and his hair was a little ruffled. He was tired, very tired, and yet the smile on his face remained when he was around you, a smile of complete adoration. 

Surely a man who was using you wouldn’t look at you that way? Could he?

With that thought, you felt guilty. Perhaps you were overreacting, after all these thoughts had come from nowhere, how could you judge Michael purely based on thoughts?

Maybe I am overreacting?

Michael cleared his throat. “Besides I still have things to talk to your father about that are business related.” 

Upon hearing that the warmness of Michael’s previous gesture faded away, and the smile dropped from your face. You let go of Michael’s hand immediately. The thoughts came crashing in again at the mention of business and your father.

“You speak to my father a lot these days.” You said with a hint of irritation. The past feelings of sadness were replaced with those of slight anger. 

Michael hadn’t seemed to notice the sudden change in your tone. “I have to.” He shrugged. “We have a lot of business to discuss.” He tried to reach for your hand to hold it again. But you kept them firmly to your side.

Your brows furrowed into a glare. “Business, business, hmm.” You snapped. “It’s all my father and you ever talk about!” The last sentence was particularly icy.

This time Michael caught onto the increase of snark in your voice. He looked at you carefully, he was quiet as he assessed the sudden coldness emitting from you before choosing to speak again.

“I suppose so? Your family and mine are working together now, so it only makes sense…” Michael was sure to tread carefully with his words.

“And you know, after we get married it will only continue,” He added. 

Your eyes widened immediately, and your mouth fell open.

Oh no.

Michael’s words were practically an omission. In your mind, this was the nail in the coffin. The wave of sadness that hit you was immeasurable. Your worst fears had been confirmed. Michael was only marrying for your connections, he didn’t love you, and he never had. 

You didn’t feel the tears streaming down your face until the second one reached your chin. “So you don’t love me?” Your voice cracked.

“What?” The question caught Michael off guard, and so did the tears. He blinked. “Y/n?” This is something he clearly hadn’t anticipated.

You drew a quivering breath, clearing the air that had been trapped in the back of your throat, once it was released everything slipped out.

“How could I be so stupid?” You sobbed.

“I knew that this marriage was beneficial to your family, you have so much to benefit from this, but I never thought you would-!” You were crying at an abnormally loud level. Tears were streaming down your face as you got choked up on your words.

All the while Michael was in a state of shock. He froze momentarily, this fluctuation in emotions had been so random.

“I know what my father does for a living, I’m not stupid, I know his connections are desirable to many people, including you.” Your voice lowered suddenly. The sudden rush of hysteria you had was wearing off, now you were just filled with dejection, complete and utter dejection.

“I know you don’t feel the same I do.” You sniffed quietly. “How could you?”

“After all, I'm just a business venture, a contract… And yet.” You shook your head, stifling a laugh. “I still love you, even if I know you don’t love me.”

It was ironic, funny, almost tragic. You knew Michael wasn’t marrying you out of love or sincerity but you could never stop loving him.

You laughed again. “What am I even saying?” You felt as if you had been rambling incoherently, spewing utter nonsense for what felt like forever, but once you had started you couldn’t stop.

“I’m so sorry.” You whispered. You slumped back into the chair, burying your face into your hands.

Michael had been silent for most of your tirade, dropped to his knees beside you. The realization had hit him. The silence, the melancholy, the distance you had been putting between the both of you, and the reason behind it were all so clear now.

She thinks that I'm marrying her for her connections. 

He shook his head and exhaled. “Y/n.” He put his hand on your thigh, caressing it slowly. “I’m disappointed to hear that.” He said sadly.

“I’m sorry.” You sniffed.

“No, no, no.” Michael pinched the bridge of his nose with his other hand. “I’m not disappointed in you.”

The disappointment Michael felt was not aimed at you but at himself. A deep shame wallowed in his chest after hearing your confession. He was ashamed that you felt that way, ashamed that he made you feel that way, and ashamed that he had failed to notice.

She thinks of herself as a business venture. Michael swallowed bitterly. His heart ran cold. His guts tangled into a knot. He felt sick. Michael’s mouth went dry as he analyzed you silently. A minute passed before he finally said something.

“Y/n will you please look at me.” He asked softly.

You shook your head, refusing to honor his request. You didn’t move an inch. You were too afraid to look up, deathly afraid to look at his face and whatever expression he had on. You wish he would just leave you to sob in the confines of his father’s office but you could still feel his presence by your chair and you knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

Michael sighed. He removed his hand from your thigh and placed it on your cheek. You shivered at his touch, but you still refused to look up.

“Do you really believe that I'm marrying you because of your father’s business connections?” Michael’s voice was at a whisper now.

“That’s why you’ve been so distant lately hmm?” He began to caress circles on your cheek. “You believe that I’m doing this strictly for business purposes.”

“And do you really believe that I don’t love you?” He said bitterly.

You cringed, slouching into your chair even more, you wished you could sink into the chaie and disappear. He sounded angry. You began to worry that this would lead to an argument, perhaps it hadn’t been the best to break down at this very moment.

But the next words from Michae’s mouth weren’t ones of anger in fact they sounded quite regretful.

“I’m sorry.” He said. “I’m really sorry.” There was great despair in his voice. 

“I’ve made you feel as if you are nothing more than a trading piece.” Michael exhaled. He couldn’t remember a specific time or day he had behaved in a manner that made you feel less than, but he clearly had, and it had made you so insecure that you felt as if he didn’t love you.

“Y/n,” He said firmly. He knew he had to rectify the situation, he couldn’t have you believing that he didn’t love you. “My family business is important, but so are you.”

“I care about you.”

“I really do.”

He cares about me? You sniffed. 

The level of sincerity was enough to lull you out of your state, but not enough to entirely draw you out. You weren’t fully convinced. He cared about you but did he love you? Did he love you as you loved him? Or was he lying merely to appease you? 

Michael was a gentleman but being a businessman also meant he knew how to lie, and lie very well. You only hoped the latter was true. It had to be for your sake.

“You care about me?” You said slowly. Your face rose from your hands, you let out one final sniff, and exhaled, hoping to gain a bit of courage. “But do you love me?” You questioned. You had to know for sure.

“When we get married could you bring yourself to love me? And don’t lie to me.”

You felt your chest tighten as you looked at Michael who was still kneeling on the floor beside you. Your eyes met his, Michael’s eyes locked deeply into yours and you felt small under his gaze but you dared not to look away. Your breath hitched. You had never experienced a heart attack but you were sure this is what it felt like as you awaited his answer.

Michael examined you properly now as you sat up, you were still slightly hunched over in the chair and your hair was down, now ruffled and messy, it covered the right side of your face. Your eyes were puffy and red. The dim lighting of the room cast a shadow across you, heightening the expression of anticipation on your face and the look of worry, as well as dread.

Then Michael finally spoke. “Y/n, I don’t have to bring myself to love you, because I already do, connections be damned.”

“I’ve loved you for so long, even before I asked  your father for your hand in marriage.” Michael took your hands from your lap and bought them up to his lips. He planted a small kiss on them.

You looked at Michael as your hands sat stalely in his. Michael held his breath as he watched you look into his eyes, he prayed that you would what you were looking for, what had always been there.

At that moment there was a mutual silence between the two of you. You searched Michael’s eyes for any hint of deceit or duplicity, you prowled for any signs that indicated he was lying, but you couldn’t find it. 

In his eyes lay nothing but awe and adoration for you. The look on his face was one of passion and honesty. This wasn’t the face of a man who was lying, this was the face of a man who loved you.

"You really do care for me?' You said quietly. The way the words rolled off your tongue sounded as if you were trying to speak a foreign language. You sounded as if you still couldn’t believe it.

"I do." Michael nodded. "And, once again, I’m sorry that I made you doubt my feelings for you.” He apologized again.

“You want to marry me?” You perked up a little, the warmth was returning to your chest, and your heart rate had begun to still. “You really want to marry me?” You asked again as you squeezed Michael’s hand.

Michael smiled. “Do you think I am the kind of man who would make a commitment to a woman for the rest of my life if I didn’t feel anything for her?” He brushed the hair out of your face and placed it behind your ear.

“Y/n, my feelings for you extend past any business venture,” Michael stated as he leaned and kissed your forehead.

You couldn’t help but crack a small.

Michael loved you.

Michael loved you!

“Can you say that again?” You requested gingerly.

Michael stopped kneeling on the floor and stood up. “Say what?” He questioned, looking down at you.

“That you love me? Please?”

The verbal declaration of Michael’s love for you had washed away all your doubts and lingering worries. Hearing him say three simple words left you feeling euphoric, it felt exhilarating. You wanted to hear him say it again.

“I love you.” Said, Michael. “I’ll say it a thousand more times if you wish.” He smiled.

You nodded. “Yes, do it again.”

“I love you,”

“I love you,”

“I love you.”

Each time he said it, a different wave of joy hit you. You wiped what was left of the tears from your eyes and stood up. You leaned into Michael, burying your face into his chest. Michael wrapped his arms around you and held you tightly.

You felt safe in his arms, you felt happy, you felt loved. The feeling lasted all through the night, even when the both of you returned to the party and people asked why your eyes were so red. You didn’t really care though, Michael loved you, that’s all that mattered.

----------------

This story was an ungodly level of long and cringe.

Anyways hope you enjoyed it.

#michael corleone x reader #michael corleone x oc #michael corleone imagine #the godfather #the godfather imagine #the godfather fanfic #the godfather x reader #al pacino #al pacino x reader #al Pacino imagine

[melis-writes]

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.”

#the godfather #al pacino #michael corleone x reader #michael corleone x oc #michael corleone fanfic #godfather au #michael corleone smut #michael corleone x reader smut #michael corleone #the godfather x reader #godfather x reader #the other woman fic #the other woman fanfic

[chicoca]

Did you know that i have your heart in the garden?

(Michael Corleone x Reader fanfic) (AO3)

Sicily brings new things for Michael, including your presence. However, he didn't count on the difficulties of hiding from his father's enemies and falling in love with a forbidden woman.

Michael's and reader's pov

Reader has a name

Canon divergence (I use some parts of the movie and the book, but I manipulate everything)

This fanfic is quite self-insert, and brings a perspective of Michael that I would like to deepen.

Be aware that this Michael is based after the death of Sollozo and McClusky, and before being the Don. Therefore his personality is far from the great Michael Corleone that we know. At least at the beginning.

Playlist

Warnings in each chapter

chapter one

chapter two

#the godfather #godfather #al pacino #michael corleone #michael corleone x reader #michael corleone x oc #michael corleone au #the godfather au #fanfic #michael corleone fanfic #fanfiction #fic #ao3 fanfic #chicoca

[lostloveletters]

Bruised Fruit Chapter 1 (Michael Corleone x OC)

Summary: Gloria falls like overripe fruit from a wilting tree branch, and Michael Corleone intends to devour her amidst the rot and decay that's long since taken root in his family, intent on dooming her with him for a chance at another heir.

Note: I first posted this and two other chapters to AO3, which I'll link if you'd like to read ahead as I begin cross-posting to here.

Warnings: Canon divergence, sexually explicit content, infidelity, period typical attitudes, negative discussions of abortion, Catholicism, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) related to WWII, breeding kink, death, angst, emotional manipulation

Do not interact if you are under 18 or post thinspo/ED content. I will block you.

AO3 Link | Masterlist

"I’m going to Cuba," he told her in a quiet, postcoital moment.

"Are you secretly a Red, Michael?” she teased, her brown eyes sparkling in the golden glow of the lamps in the hotel room they occupied. “Getting in with the rebels before they storm Havana? They’ve already got Santa Clara.”

He rolled his eyes, but the smile on his face betrayed his amusement. "You and your newspapers. Do you seriously think Castro has a chance?"

She took a long drag on her cigarette, pondering her answer for a moment. "His people have nothing to lose."

"I’ll be fine."

"How long will you be gone?"

"A few weeks, maybe a month," he said, twisting a strand of her long black hair between his fingers, silent for a moment as to test the waters, "I’ll wire you."

"Wire your wife."

"Gloria—"

"I’m not saying that to be confrontational. She’s pregnant, focus on her,” she said, passing him the cigarette. “Where does she think you are tonight?”

“She knows I’m in Vegas, just not with you.”

She hummed, her fingers brushing the tender, bruised skin on her hips, a shade of lavender that would no doubt blossom into a plum monstrosity by the morning. For a man over a decade her senior, he was insatiable, devouring her with a ferocity as if she were ripe for the picking.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, his gaze following her fingertips.

She shook her head. “Are you staying over?”

“Yes. I have to head out early, though. Lots of people coming in for Anthony’s first communion.”

“Get some sleep then. Don’t let me keep you up.”

He grinned. “You always keep me up.”

“Bathroom’s that way. I’m tired,” she said jokingly, turning over to bury her face in her pillow.

“I’ll wire you when I get to Havana. A few days from now, probably. I have some things to take care of first.”

She mumbled something from her side of the bed, eyes closed while he continued on in Italian. He landed a playful swat on her ass. Yelping, she turned over, glaring at him.

“Rude,” she scolded, “you know I don’t understand Italian. What’d you say?”

He laughed softly, pushing some of her hair out of her face. “I love you.”

“That’s not what you said.”

“I called you lazy and insufferable.”

She smiled. “I love you too.”

“Good night, darling,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her lips.

“Night.”

When Gloria awoke the following morning, Michael was gone, though he’d left a note for her. With no reason to stick around, she returned to her apartment, the third one she has lived in since she moved to Las Vegas. It was more spacious than she needed, but Michael insisted, though he rarely visited her there. Their rendezvous were almost always in the hotel room at the casino that was exclusively reserved for him. Safer that way, a more public place with plenty of his men around. She wasn’t ashamed of their illicit relationship, but it made her feel exposed. As soon as they stepped into that elevator together, everyone knew what they were planning to do.

She sighed, sitting on the couch and running a hand through her hair. Her next shift wasn’t until the following evening, and she wasn’t sure what exactly to do with herself. Michael being in Havana was a test run of what was to come.

After Kay had the baby, she’d see less of Michael, busy being the doting husband, the proud father. Just as she didn’t receive an invitation to Anthony’s first communion, she wouldn’t be welcome at their new son’s baptism. She wasn’t sore about it. If she were Kay, she wouldn’t want her around the family either.

Her fear wasn’t that he wouldn’t return, but rather that he would, and she’d never work up the courage to build a life for herself without him. Moving to Vegas was her first attempt at that, but less than a year into the job, she was practically shoved into his hands, and he hadn’t let go since. 

She glanced at the box of newspaper clippings on the entryway desk, to most people, it was little more than evidence of an obsession with the Pacific Theater. Gloria had been young when the war broke out, not fully understanding the difference between the branches of the military, only that her brother wasn’t fighting in Europe, and she rarely heard from him. The newspapers she had poured over introduced her to places like Guadalcanal and Peleliu, small islands that she could barely see on a map, yet somehow Jackie and millions of other men were there. 

Then Life ran a special edition on war heroes, featuring Marines like her brother. A decade after its publication, when Fredo had requisitioned her to keep his brother company in the casino while he ran off to attend to some last minute business, she recognized Michael immediately, unable to stop herself from asking the former Captain about his service. When Jackie returned from the war, he had little to say about what he experienced in the Pacific. In fact, he had little to say about much of anything. Shell shock, they called it, aptly describing the shell of a man her formerly outgoing brother had become. Michael Corleone wasn’t a shell, enthralling her with the details of such places as Guadalcanal and Peleliu with the emotional distance of an observer rather than a participant. 

As their acquaintanceship escalated into an affair, she saw the scars for herself. Both the physical evidence of his being wounded in action, and the invisible ones that’d rear their ugly heads late at night when they’d begun sharing his hotel room. If not manifesting through bouts of insomnia, then through nightmares that left him dazed and agitated when she managed to wake him from them. 

Between the shell shock and his diabetes, she felt like she had to keep a close eye on him. Not only out of genuine concern, but a matter of personal pride. Just because he wasn’t her husband, it didn’t mean she couldn’t take care of him. God forbid he return to his wife in anything less than mint condition. It was the least Gloria could do.

He would be gone for some time, though, and as she always did during his longer trips, she grabbed her phone, making plans with friends to keep herself occupied. She had a life without him, secure in her independent lifestyle. If she were busy enough, she didn't think of him that often. 

Almost a week later, she received the telegram from Michael at work, nearly forgetting his promise to wire her from Cuba.

In Havana. Beautiful weather. Miss you.

She asked the front desk to wire him back.

Miss you too. Have fun. Stay safe.

She didn’t expect a response. There was nothing else to say.  

Gloria went about her business as usual, working and meeting friends for dinner and dancing when she could. Her style was undoubtedly cramped by the Corleone family associates who tailed her wherever she went. She wondered if it was humiliating for them to be the ones assigned to covertly babysit the Don’s mistress. After all, if the people behind the attack at his Lake Tahoe home truly wanted to cause her harm, there were ample opportunities to do so in Vegas.

Her bubble was small, safe, and secure despite living in the City of Sin. Her proximity to Michael almost always ensured that. In his absence, a mere phone call popped that bubble. 

“Hello? Is this Gloria Marino? This is Kay Corleone.”

“Kay?” she repeated incredulously.

“Can we talk?”

The two women had met just once in person. Michael briefly introduced them when giving his wife a tour of the casino shortly after the family had moved from New York to Nevada. It was the only time Kay had ever stepped foot in the place. Even then, Gloria was sure Kay was smart enough to size her up at first glance, knew she wasn't just another back-of-house employee.

“I figure I’d be the last person you’d wanna talk to.”

“You’d think, but after all this, I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t warn you. No one was there to warn me, or maybe I was too stubborn to care.”

Gloria hesitated. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“I know. Consider it my penance.”

“For what?”

“Michael’s going to divorce me when he gets back from his trip.”

“He would never do that.”

“He will.” The certainty in Kay’s voice was shocking, but she didn’t pry. Kay wasn’t telling her for a reason. Prior knowledge of whatever was being omitted would put her in danger with Michael. “He will, and he’s going to go to you afterward. He trusts you.”

“Kay, I don’t—“

“I did something very selfish and desperate, something I can never be forgiven for,” she said cryptically. “You’re going to bear the brunt of the aftermath. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Gloria whispered, unsure if things would really end up that way. 

“Goodbye, Gloria.”

“Bye, Kay.”

The line went dead, and she stared at the phone in her hand for a few moments. Michael would only divorce Kay if the baby were out of the picture, and the woman’s surety only confirmed that was the case. The aftermath. She could only hazard a guess as to what that meant. Nothing good if she needed to be forewarned.

Days later, when she heard about Kay’s miscarriage through the grapevine, it still didn’t exactly click. Not until there was a knock at the door at a little after one in the morning. She figured if she ignored it long enough, the culprit would get the message and go away, but the knocking was incessant.

Shuffling out of the bedroom, she turned on one of the lamps in her living room. She looked out the peephole, shocked to see Michael standing there, waiting impatiently for her.

“Gloria, open up!” he shouted, banging on the door again, causing her to flinch a little.

She took a deep breath, knowing it was a futile attempt to prepare herself for whatever she was about to get into. His expression unreadable when she opened the door, she gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Michael, you’re back,” she said cheerfully enough. “How was the trip?”

He was silent as she ushered him inside. Turning on another lamp, she nearly froze at the state of him. Bags under his eyes, unkempt hair as if he’d been running his hands through it. 

“I warned you about those rebels,” she joked, only to receive a glare in return, his dark eyes almost black as they leered into hers. “Sorry, I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Okay,” he scoffed, a coldness laced in his voice that settled as an unfamiliar freeze in her veins. “You have no idea what I’ve been through these past few days.”

“I heard Kay miscarried. I’m—“

“It was an abortion,” he snapped. “She murdered our baby.”

Gloria’s eyes widened at the news. Her hand shook as she made a sign of the cross for his unborn son’s soul.

When Kay had called, she never expected the pious wife to commit a mortal sin, damning herself with no hope of reconciliation. Gloria knew other women who had gotten abortions, an inevitability when they weren’t careful enough with the carousel of carefree men that came through Las Vegas. It wasn’t something respectable women with husbands did. Being the wife of a crime lord was hardly respectable, though.

"He was a boy!" he shouted. His eyes were glassy, voice breaking in a rare display of vulnerability. "We were going to have a boy."

"I’m sorry."

"I can tell."

Exasperated, she asked, "What do you want me to do, Michael?"

"Marry me. I want you to marry me."

"No."

In the four or so years she’d been with Michael, she only experienced the lover, not the husband, a different beast entirely. Husbands meant expectations and ownership, something she was woefully unprepared for. 

"It wasn’t a question."

"Then I suppose you’re going to carry me off like the Arabian Nights? Drag me kicking and screaming to join your harem?”

“No harem. Just you.”

“Michael—“

“You’ll marry me. You’ll give me another son.”

Michael was the furthest from a holy man she could fathom, but the way his eyes blazed with a biblical ferocity, she believed for a moment that he could alter the will of God with the sheer magnitude of his desperation and humiliation. He wanted to send her into the depths of purgatory to retrieve the boy he was entitled to, the sacrificial lamb that freed his soon to be ex-wife from marital bondage. Forget that he already had a son, a young, healthy boy. It was the principle of the thing, a man of his influence and import being deceived by his otherwise unassuming wife, her dainty hand dealing the death blow. ‘It was an abortion.' Checkmate.

“Darling, you’re the only person I trust,” he implored softly, his hands cradling her face as he tried intentional gentleness over impulsive tyranny. “I love you.”

She wasn’t getting any younger. Most people considered her an old maid. Her mother sure did, sending letters that increasingly implored her to come home and settle down before it’s too late. Her best prospect was standing before her, a man who wasn’t one to be denied. Senators and executives bent to his will, whether a flexible reed or a rigid board, they all would bend. If not, they broke. He’d break her just to put the pieces back together in his image, a mosaic of desperate domesticity. 

Her time ran out. Perhaps wishful thinking, or naivety in hindsight, but she always expected Kay to grin and bear it. The expectations of Michael Corleone were her cross to take up. Seeing no better option than to give in, she kissed him, allowing the pads of his thumbs to dig into the peachy skin of her cheeks, deep enough that if they were fruit, the tender flesh would be pierced, juice dripping down his hands. He lapped her up in kind, his mouth laying claim to her.

“Tell me you love me,” he pleaded against her bruised lips.

“I love you, Michael.”

And she did love him, but loving Michael was a burden. She couldn’t blame Kay for what she did. It was a long time to carry that weight. His love was demanding, unforgiving, red-hot to the touch despite his cool exterior. There were only so many times a woman could stand to get burned.

They ended up in her bedroom, no longer her domain but his, she could feel the shift as soon as he walked in, eyes hungrily taking her in like a hawk circling above a rabbit. Her nightclothes quickly discarded, leaving her naked and vulnerable before him. She laid back on the bed as he shed his own clothes, and felt an unfamiliar nervousness settle in her stomach. Perhaps it was the magnitude of the act, no longer for leisure, but purposeful, real. If it didn’t take then, he would try again and again until he got what he wanted.

Michael climbed over her, stroking his hard cock before positioning it at her entrance. Leaning down, he kissed her again, his lips taking the brunt of her pained whimper as he slid his length inside her. 

His fingers made their home on her hips as they always did, squeezing as he thrust harder and deeper inside her. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks.

“That’s it, darling,” he praised. “You’re doing so well for me.”

Kissing the base of her throat while plowing into her appealed to an animalistic instinct in him, and he sunk his teeth into her tender flesh, claiming her, marking her.

In turn, she dug her long fingernails into his shoulder blades, only to find later she’d drawn blood. 

“Michael, please just—it’s too much,” she choked out.

“Just a little longer.”

He released one of her hips, moving his hand between them to rub circles in her clit. The moan she let out only encouraged him as he thrust faster, bringing the both of them closer to climax. 

Closing her eyes, she felt that familiar tightness build in her abdomen. Pleasure tingled through her brain, to her fingertips. She could grab it if she wanted to, reach out for ectasy and make it hers.

“Look at me, Gloria. I want to see you,” he ordered through gritted teeth. “I want to see you become a mother.”

Her eyes shot open, looking at him in near disbelief at his gentle vulgarity.  

Before she could even attempt to respond, he brushed the pad of his thumb over her clit again, and she came, her cunt squeezing his cock, coating it in her juices, hips involuntarily bucking in his unrelenting grip. His name fell from her lips in a delirious whine as her orgasm coursed through her body. He shuddered, cursing under his breath as he slammed his cock deeper into her, letting her cunt milk him dry.

They were silent for a few moments, save for the weak whine Gloria made when Michael pulled out from her. Glancing at her hips, he could see the familiar blossoming of finger-shaped bruises. He kissed her again, his fingers brushing her sensitive folds, collecting the cum that was leaking out before pushing it back inside her, nothing wasted, nothing left to chance.

His lips trailed down her face, to her neck and each of her breasts until finally settling on her belly. He nuzzled his nose against it, the soft, fertile flesh ripening beneath his touch. She felt almost dizzy at his primal display of affection.

“It’s gonna be a boy,” he whispered against her stomach as it rose and fell with her heavy breaths. “I can feel it.”

#michael corleone x oc #the godfather #michael corleone #the godfather part ii #michael corleone fanfic #the godfather fanfic #michael corleone x ofc #michael corleone imagine #the godfather imagine #bruised fruit fic

[ddesfleurs]

It hurts to love you, but I still love you.

chapter 4

summary: Michael always made a point of surprising Grace, he liked to see her with a smile on her face, especially when he was responsible for the smile. She was worth gold and he knew he didn't deserve her.

warnings: cheat, angst, anger, melancholy, light smut, mention of sex, fluff

notes: well this took some extra time because my college classes have started again and i'm super busy with everything but here we are. a new chapter of this story. I'm curious to hear your thoughts on this chapter, especially the ending. Good reading!!

Michael was outside his home by the large lake that surrounded part of the property he owned in Nevada. He watched the horizon in front of him as the snowflakes fell around him like little icy tears that didn't bother because they had already become a part of him. Michael looked at that lake and remembered another time when he had been with her, also in a lake, it seemed to him that it had been many lifetimes ago. He couldn't help it, his thoughts kept straying from the now, the real and the concrete, and fixed like weeds on the memories of the time he spent with Grace.

Michael Corleone was never a man of great superstitions, he didn't believe in bad luck, and he always thought he was capable of getting anything he wanted, but he found himself powerless trying to find out where Grace was. And, appealing to beliefs he never believed in, he considered that his life had fallen into a spiral, a succession of disgraces and misfortunes began to befall him, one after another, after she had left without saying a word to him.

First the woman of his life, the woman he loved even though he had never told her, simply vanished from the map as if by magic. It just seemed impossible to find Grace as even her friends didn't seem to know for sure where she was. It just seemed impossible to find Grace as even her friends didn't seem to know for sure where she was. Michael had gone to speak to each of them personally, and none of the girls had given him satisfactory answers, especially Carolyn, one of Grace's best friends, who made a point of spewing half a dozen curses at him and telling him once again how much he had ruined Grace's life. In the end, Michael found that Carolyn had no idea of ​​her friend's whereabouts, she had received a letter in the mail that had so many stamps that it seemed to have traveled all over the country. The letter contained more words than the note left for Michael, but it didn't say anything that might indicate where she was, and it didn't even leave a return address so they could write back.

Michael had tried everything, made a point of going to San Francisco to talk to Grace's aunt in person, Maureen slammed the door in his face as soon as she knew who he was. She told him to go to hell and that if he wanted to, she said that he could send one of his goons to shoot bullets at her, but that she had the right to refuse to talk to a certain tipe guy. The next day it was Tom who managed to talk to the woman, Grace's aunt, who was infinitely nicer to Tom, said she didn't know her niece's whereabouts, that she had left her house and didn't know where the girl had gone. . Michael knew immediately that it was a lie, Grace wouldn't disappear into the world without her aunt knowing where she went. Once again Michael was left with no options, he couldn't torture Grace's aunt to get the information he wanted, that he did in business, with men, never with women and certainly not with the aunt of someone who was infinitely dear to him.

He returned to Nevada without any concrete answer about Grace's whereabouts, his men and the private detectives he had hired would only give him one answer: they didn't know where the woman had gone and they couldn't find any trace of her, it seemed there was vanished into thin air and it seemed to Michael that after she left everything in his life started to go wrong. First, complications arose in certain negotiations during Anthony's First Communion celebration. A party that looked more like an associates party because it was so full of men who wanted to do business with him. The whole thing was a beautiful spectacle, Michael was not comfortable with all these people, many were plotting behind his back, but things were as they were and he knew that such parties were necessary to maintain the appearance and sense of unity in their midst job. What followed was a complete disaster, the same night Michael was attacked, there was a shooting that almost killed him and Kay. A shootout inside your property. This property was heavily guarded and guarded. Michael had to deal with the inconvenience this caused his family and the prospect that in addition to having an enemy who wanted him dead to the point of planning an attempt on his life, there was a traitor among his family and trusted men.

Michael traveled to try to find out who were the people who were involved in that horrendous shooting that nearly took his and Kay's lives. During the trip, which he hated every minute of it, as Michael didn't want to leave the United States, he felt lonely and empty without hearing from Grace for so long and the possibility that his wife and children would be in danger, since apparently someone wanted him dead enough to plan a shootout on his property. On the trip to Cuba, Michael discovered that Hyman Roth wanted him dead and that the family traitor had been Fredo, his own brother. It broke Michael's heart. His own brother betrayed him. His stupid, silly, unnecessary brother, whom he loved so much, betrayed him and nearly caused his death. He felt mixed feelings about the discovery that it was Fredo, anger, sadness, grief, Michael knew what he had to do, the decision was already made and Fredo's fate was sealed the moment Michael discovered the truth but first he had to deal with Hyman Roth and his men. The entire scheme to eliminate Roth had proved more difficult than Michael and his men had expected and so he found himself drawn into a web of confusion caused by Roth who wanted to harm him at all costs.

Upon returning from the trip, Michael found out through Tom about the latest events and it was through this conversation that he discovered that Kay had lost the baby she was expecting. That baby Michael so desperately wanted and hoped would be a boy, that baby he didn't know about yet but had been the catalyst for the abrupt break in his relationship with Grace, that baby was gone. Michael felt angry with himself, after all it had been his fault, everything that had happened had been his fault. He tried to protect his family and his business, he tried to keep and protect those he loved, but he was losing everything. He felt that he was holding a handful of sand and that more and more sand was falling from his hands so that he couldn't stop it, it dripped through his fingers, Michael tried to hold more than was reasonable and so he lost everything.

After that, his relationship with Kay was never the same. They hadn't been well for a long time and after the shooting and the loss of the baby everything got worse. To complete the series of misfortunes that had befallen Michael, it didn't take long to discover that Hyman Roth had set up a scheme to frame him for being part of the mafia and for illegal practices, which they all did. Roth wanted to destroy Michael now that he knew the man wanted him dead. Michael found himself dragged into a trial set up by Roth who was now aware that Michael knew he planned to kill him. The trial weeks had been exhausting, but Michael, with the help of his brother and brilliant attorney Tom Hagen, managed to get out of the Roth-orchestrated trial unscathed. No charges were brought forward so Michael's association with any of the crimes he was prosecuted for has not been proven.

After leaving the courtroom free and cleared of all charges, Michael thought that maybe now he could find some peace and live peacefully. Planned to fly tonight with Kay, Anthony, and Mary back home, Michael thought that maybe there was still a chance, that maybe it was a sign that he should work to change and improve his relationship with Kay, Grace was gone and, allowing himself he dreamed of an impossible future, Michael thought maybe this was his chance to get his marriage back together and get their lives back to the way they were. But he was wrong.

Still at the hotel where they were staying, shortly after the trial ended, Kay went to his room to tell him that she would not return to Nevada, that she would leave and take the children with her, that she planned to file for a divorce, that she no longer wanted to be Michael's wife. Kay's statements set off a horrible argument that could be heard throughout the hallway. Initially Michael shouted that he would not allow Kay to take their children, then tried to persuade her that he would change and that it would be better for her. He told her that he knew she blamed him for the loss of the baby and everything else that had happened but that in time she would feel different about their marriage and that they could have another child.

At that moment Michael had the hardest revelation of his life, Kay revealed to him that she had had an abortion. The loss of the baby had been intentional, Kay said she no longer wanted to bring Michael's child into the world, a child who would live the same life as all of them. After what she said, it all happened in a very quick sequence. One minute Michael was there holding the upholstery of the chair as he listened to Kay reveal to him that she had abortion their child and the next he slapped her across the face. Michael yelled that she wasn't going to take his kids away and that she should leave alone because he didn't want to see her anymore and he didn't want her anywhere near his children. In that moment Michael saw Kay's expression change from shocked to sly, her eyes hardened and in that moment he knew there was more, she was going to say something more, the moment of truth had arrived for them.

"What else did you do?"

"Why are you so mad, Michael? Is it because of what I did, what Hyman Roth did, or because that whore you kept walked away?"

"What?"

"You thought I was too stupid to notice, didn't you? Kay the blind wife who would never notice her husband had a mistress. Do you think I didn't notice the changes in your behavior? sudden good mood, the sudden interest in books, plays, and movies from genres you were never interested in! Do you think I couldn't smell her and the perfume she wore when you came home and thought I'd already was sleeping take the opportunity to lie down silently next to me?"

Michael was dismayed, having never even imagined the possibility of Kay knowing about Grace. Kay was not one to keep things, she usually got into conflict with Michael but not on this subject, on this subject she decided not to say anything to him, Michael was now starting to wonder why.

"If you already knew everything all this time, why didn't you say anything? It's not like you to be silent."

"What good would it do me to confront you? I wouldn't gain anything from it, just your look of guilt and disgusting pity."

"How did you find out about her?"

"Now that doesn't matter anymore. I must admit she's quite pretty and vain, I understand what you saw in her."

"Did you see her?" Michael said as he gave Kay a look that gave her the shivers. "What did you do, Kay? What did you do to Grace?"

"Oh no big deal Michael. I just told your lover that I was pregnant again and told her you would never leave me for her. We talked for a while and I must admit the poor girl seemed pretty shaken by the news. You don't change, do you? You thought you could have a relationship with her by lying and deceiving her. I did that poor thing a favor who can now be happy away from you and your evil!"

Michael gave Kay a wild look, his body trembling even more than before, he felt hate. Hatred for that woman he once believed he loved. Hatred that she aborted his child. Hatred that she made the woman he loved go away.

"How long did you think this illusion would last, this make-believe you were creating together with that whore. You thought you could live a parallel life with her, didn't you? A life where you are not you, a life in which you Don't be a sordid criminal who makes everyone around you wish they hadn't had the bad luck to cross your path." Kay gave him a tired look. "I couldn't. I couldn't stand knowing that you were having an affair with another woman and that you were happy with her while making me and our children unhappy. The way you smiled before you went to see her and your behavior after you came backnhome... it destroyed me, Michael, because you were never like that to me. I was pregnant with our third child in my belly and it still wasn't enough for you. I wasn't enough but that girl you got god know where it seemed to be."

Michael looked at Kay with a mixture of sadness, anger, anguish, relief, and above all regret. He regretted letting this story get this far and regretted that things had gotten to this point. Michael looked at the woman in front of him as he pinched the bridge of his nose, they were over, a long time ago, a lot longer than he could have imagined.

"Kay, I strongly suggest you pack your things and leave. Tom will be in touch about the divorce and we'll decide about the kids."

"Is that all, Don Corleone?" She said making fun of the way he was giving orders. Michael didn't bother to answer, turned his back and went to the other room, he needed to be alone.

Back in the present Michael contemplated recent events in retrospect, his life had become one big mess since Grace had left and now he finally knew the reason for her abrupt departure. Grace had found out about Kay's pregnancy and decided to put a stop to the whole thing. Of course, Michael knew that the pregnancy and the fact that he had hidden it from her weren't the only reasons that made her leave, these events acted as a catalyst for everything that would follow. Michael knew that Grace wanted a family, husband and children, and yet he insisted on continuing his relationship with her even though he knew he could never give her the full happiness she deserved. Now Michael was alone, he had lost the woman he loved because he was cowardly enough not to openly admit his feelings and take action about it.

He remembered a very sweet and contemplative moment between the two of them that had taken place the year before. Grace's birthday was approaching and Michael had been bothering her for a few weeks asking what she wanted as a birthday present and each time she replied that she didn't want anything and that she already had everything she wanted. This time they were having breakfast at the little restaurant that was next to their apartment, the day was clear and the blue sky was shining outside. They ate a leisurely meal and looked like a happy couple to everyone who could see them there together. Michael admired her calm, gentle features and manner.

"What do you want for your birthday?" he asked as he poked the scrambled eggs onto his plate with his fork.

"Again? I already told you I don't want anything."

"Yeah but you say that now, you'll feel different when your birthday comes around and we don't do anything or you don't get any presents."

She laughed softly, appreciating his concern for pleasing her on her birthday.

"I already have everything I need. More than I need."

"Come on, at least say something you want. It could be anything, I'll give it to you."

Grace looked at him with intense eyes and with a playful voice replied:

"You."

"I?"

"Yes. What I want for my birthday is you."

Michael chuckled at the simplicity of her request and leaned across the table to give Grace a soft kiss on the lips. She was incredible and worth so much more than he would ever get the chance to be.

"Well, this request is going to be a little difficult to fulfill because of an important detail: you already have me."

Grace said nothing, continued the meal with a soft smile on her lips.

"I'm going to fill our apartment with gifts and you're going to wish you had ordered something specific when you had to gather all the packages and clean up the mess." Michael spoke as if he were a threat but he was smiling and his face was light. Grace looked at him and narrowed her eyes, then burst into laughter in the middle of the restaurant with all the people watching them. They seemed to love each other very much.

"Michael." It was Tom's voice that came across the snow-covered lawn. He looked a little anxious as Michael looked at him waiting for him to say what he had to say. "Let's go to the boathouse. It's freezing here."

"So? What do you want to talk about?" Michael asked as soon as he and Tom were settled.

"Michael, information has come up about something I think you're still interested in."

"What's this about, Tom?"

"It's about Grace."

Michael immediately leaned over and looked at Tom with full attention.

"What about her?"

"It's been a few weeks since our men have been watching that friend of Grace's named Carolyn and a week ago she traveled to New York. Grace was there. It took a while for us to identify her, she is being very careful and doesn't go much out from the place where she is staying but yesterday our private investigator sent us these pictures." Tom took a brown paper from his inside jacket pocket and handed it to Michael. "It's her Michael, it can't be anyone else."

"Was she in New York this whole time?" Said Michael as he looked one by one through the photos Tom had given him. Michael's heart raced, there was no denying it, it was Grace in those pictures.

"No, I don't think so. She seems to be visiting." Tom spoke, looking cautiously at Michael. "Have more."

"What?"

"She... one of our men saw her with a baby in her arms." Tom said as he showed Michael one last photo, it was night and the photo was blurry. "The baby looks like a newborn."

"Are you telling me that Grace had a child?"

"I don't know, Michael, but that's what it looks like. If you want I can go over there and talk to her to find out if the baby is yours."

"Have you lost your mind? If Grace had a child it's obvious the child is mine who else would it be?!" Michael spoke as he got up from his chair. "Make the necessary arrangements, I'm going to New York tomorrow morning."

#michael corleone #michael corleone x reader #michael corleone fanfic #michael corleone imagine #michael corleone x oc #don corleone #the godfather #the godfather x reader

[giowritess]

Hello dear. Would you post more Michael Corleone fanfics? Thank you.

hi sweetheart! i appreciate you asking ❤️‍🔥, truly do!

to be honest, i’d really like to post more michael content here, but besides a smutty fic called Weaker that i’m sort of writing, i haven’t had any ideas for him in a long time. if you have (and u can check the prompt lists i have on my masterlist), i’d love to hear them!!!

a long time ago (long, like maybe 2022) i had a few ideas for two sequels to my fic Fire, but i’m not really sure about continuing it.

#giowritess #gio talks #michael corleone writing #michael corleone #the godfather writing #the godfather fanfic #the godfather #michael corleone smut #michael corleone x oc

[nurbanu22]

"Peaky Blinders" Masterlist.

Arranged Marriage (Ongoing):

Summary: A crossover of "Peaky Blinders" and "The Godfather" set in the 1920s, takes place during the second season of "Peaky Blinders." In this, the youngest of the Corleone family must adapt to the new life as Mrs. Shelby, as a result of an arranged marriage. (Slow burn)

Prologue.

Chapter 1.

Chapter 2.

Chapter 3.

Chapter 4.

Chapter 5.

Chapter 6.

Chapter 7.

Chapter 8.

Chapter 9 (soon).

#peaky blinders #thomas shelby x oc #thomas shelby #polly gray #lizzie stark #the godfather #vito corleone #michael corleone

[venus-haze]

Writer Tag

Thank you so much for tagging me @frstcorinthians🖤

Just a "proceed with caution" on the fics I've linked on this list. Plenty of detailed warnings!

How many works do you have on AO3? 42

What's your total AO3 word count? 178k

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

3 out of 5 are Homelander fics🤭

My Destruction Is an Hour Late (my first Homelander fic🥲)

She's Out To Please, She Pouts Her Best (Soldier Boy x Reader)

Bruised Fruit (Michael Corleone x OC, an honor that it’s even on this list)

Got No Reason To Run (Homelander x Reader)

Baby Let's Play House (Homelander x Reader)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Always! I appreciate every single one so much!

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending? Definitely Sinnerman, I need to write more for Midnight Mass. There's so much potential there.

What’s the fic you've written with the happiest ending? I think Eat Your Heart Out...

Do you write crossovers? No, I haven't.

Have you ever received hate on a fic? No, which is shocking considering what I write about.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? The kind that usually requires a lot of trigger warnings.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I'm aware of.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? No, I couldn't with my schedule.

What's your all-time favorite ship? I absolutely love the way Minxie @cherubgore writes Vincent/Paige! Rarepair forever🖤

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will? None I can think of. I mostly write standalone fics, and I know I'm gonna finish Bruised Fruit at some point. Usually my WIPs change over time so they might not look the same as when I started, but they end up getting posted eventually.

What are your writing strengths? I don't know…I've been told I'm good at bringing the reader into a fic, so I guess building settings and scenes, which makes sense considering I write mostly readerfics and the immersion aspect is the backbone of that.

What are your writing weaknesses? My writing is more straightforward and doesn't use a lot of poetic style, which is something I wish I were better at. I don't think I write individual sentences that "wow" a reader, you know?

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? I do not trust Google Translate and will not walk around with egg on my face. I just use italics to indicate speaking in another language, on the off occasion that's included in my fics. Or like with Bruised Fruit, Gloria doesn't speak Italian, so part of portraying that involves her asking people what they said and hoping they're telling the truth or trying to figure out based on her interpretation of their tone and body language.

What was the first fandom you wrote for? The Outsiders! I was so upset about the ending that I wrote many fics on Quizilla where Johnny and Dally lived.

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to? I'd like to write something for Justified, but I need to rewatch again.

What's your favorite fic you've written? That's so tough...maybe Howl.

No pressure tags: @cherubgore @zaras-really-dreamless @shoshiwrites @blurredcolour @blindmagdalena @sehtoast @flaggermuser @zepskies (please make a new post, don't reblog)

#battie signals

[daenysthedreamer101]

Mood boards masterlist

Hello and welcome ☺✨💓

Here you will find all the fandoms I like and all the mood boards I made.

ASOIAF (GOT & HOTD)

House Targaryen

Daenys the Dreamer

Aegon the Conqueror

Queen Visenya

Queen Rhaenys

Princess Rhaenyra

Queen Rhaenyra

Prince Daemon

Princess Rhaenys, the Queen Who Never Was

Baela and Rhaena Targaryen

Aegon II

Prince Aemond One-Eye

Princess Helaena

Prince Rhaegar

Prince Viserys

Daenerys Stormborn

How a Targaryen princess might style herself

Daenerys and her female ancestors

Daenerys and her male ancestors

Targaryens and their dragons

House Lannister

Cersei Lannister

Jaime Lannister

House Stark

Robb Stark

Sansa Stark

Arya Stark

Jon Snow

House Arryn

House Greyjoy

House Tyrell

Margaery Tyrell

House Martell

Prince Oberyn

House Baratheon

House Tully

Lady Catelyn

House Velaryon

Lord Corlys, the Sea Snake

Laena Velaryon

Laenor Velaryon

Jacaerys Velaryon

Lucerys Velaryon

Miscellaneous

Lady Ashara Dayne

HARRY POTTER

House Slytherin

POV: You're Draco's sister

House Ravenclaw

House Hufflepuff

House Gryffindor

THE VAMPIRE DIARIES

Vampires

Mystic Falls

Lexi

Elena Gilbert

Caroline Forbes

Bonnie Bennett

Katherine Pierce

Stefan Salvatore

Damon Salvatore

Finn

Elijah

Klaus

Kol

Rebekah

Kassandra (OC)

POV: You're one of the Mikaelsons

Rebekah x Kassandra

MARVEL/MCU

Loki

MISCELLANEOUS

POV: You're the wife of Michael Corleone

#game of thrones #asoiaf #moodboard #a song of ice and fire #house of the dragon #hotd #house targaryen #the vampire diaries #harry potter #the originals #the mikaelsons #mcu loki #loki of asgard #house velaryon #house lannister #house baratheon #house stark #house tully #house greyjoy #house arryn #house martell #dorne #mystic falls #elena gilbert #the salvatore brothers #caroline forbes #masterlist #moodboard masterlist

[shotgunglitter]

🫧🫖🩰🐚

My name is Luci. I am currently seeking roleplay partners. male, female, or non-binary — it doesn’t matter to me.

:readmore:

While this is a new blog, I am not new to tumblr itself. If you wish to roleplay, follow and message me! Or you may ask to roleplay through sending me an ask, or you can even ask my oc questions!

I love to do oc x oc and oc x cc. I am mainly a fan of 70s-00s movies such as: The Godfather, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Fast Times At Ridgemont High, The Breakfast Club, Pretty in Pink, and Buffalo ‘66

In those movies I can play:

The Godfather: Connie Corleone

Ferris Bueller’s Day Off: Sloane Peterson, Jeanie Bueller

Fast Times at Ridgemont High: Stacy Hamilton

The Breakfast Club: Claire Standish, Allison Reynolds

Pretty in Pink: Andie Walsh

Buffalo ‘66: Layla

I am seeking someone to play these characters (in a cc x oc roleplay.):

The Godfather: Michael Corleone

Ferris Bueller’s day off: Cameron Frye

Fast Times at Ridgemont High: Mike Damone

The Breakfast Club: Brian Johnson, Andrew Clark

My Characters:

Laurie Wilson

Age: 19

Era: 1980s

Playby: Christina Applegate

Backstory: In the works.

Pandora D’Arc

Age: 23

Era: 1970s

Playby: Isabelle Adjani

Backstory: Pandora Jean D’Arc was born to two loving parents, named Mary Elizabeth and James in Newark, New Jersey. Pandora is of Italian and American descent, and has a very prominent ‘Jersey’ accent. Growing up, Pandora was always surrounded by her family. She mostly spent time with her cousins as a child, and her grandmother. As a teenager, she picked up negative habits such as smoking. Her and her friends thought it would be a cool thing to do, as they would snag a cigarette from one of their parents before meeting up at an abandoned trailer park nearby one of their houses. Pandora didn’t realize that it would become an addiction that felt almost impossible for her to break. Despite this, she did well in school. After Highschool, she pursed a job at a local office for bookkeeping. In this time, it was pretty hard to be bookkeeper as a female. But Pandora didn’t need to go to college or anything to pursue this job. She was trained for weeks, and then took an exam to qualify.

Other information: Pandora stands at about 5’5” and weight 126 lbs. She has a prominent pear shape, and mostly dresses in a bohemian style. Pandora’s personality is what people call a “phlegmatic”, which means a relaxed and peaceful person. She is very hardworking, and dislikes when people interrupt her work. Pandora is a “treat others the way you want to be treated”, type of person. If you are kind to her, she’s kind to you. If someone is an utter bitch to her, she will not hesitate to return that same bitchy energy to that person.

#roleplay #roleplaying #oc rp #seeking roleplay partner #1970s roleplay #1980s roleplay #70s #80s #fast times at ridgemont high #the godfather #the breakfast club #buffalo ‘66 #pretty in pink #ferris bueller's day off #semi literate rp #literate rp #semi lit rp #lit rp #lit roleplay #PLEASE IM DESPERATE #ARGEGRGRGRG

[pfenniged]

Hello there! Big Godfather / Corleone family fan here, and I recently found your fics on AO3. I'm currently reading both Side Piece (Sonny x OC) and Family Ties (Michael x OC), and I'm loving them! I'd like to ask you if you would ever consider writing a Sonny x Sandra fic? They are my favorite Corleone couple, I love them so much, and I'm sure you would do their relationship and marriage some justice! Please let me know, I'd love to read a fic like that from you! Many thanks and best wishes!

Hey there! Thanks for reaching out :) Happy that both of them are working for you!

I totally would- I know actually the non Mario Puzo-written prequel book has a lot about both Sandra and Sonny as a couple in it, so I'd probably look into reading that before I started. I tend to like to finish writing one piece before moving onto the other, but if you have any prompts or ideas, feel free to reach out again and if there's something that sparks my imagination, I can take it from there! :)

#tbh they're a really cute couple in the background I've read so I can see your interest #I'll mark it up and any ideas you have feel free to share :) #kol-and-elena-fanfiction #answers #the godfather #writings #ao3

[hoffmans-hoffman]

One ship per character, ship aes the godfather + your ocs

Luce x Sonny, I'd like to imagine them working together. Being gentle and rough with each other, patching each other up when they don't want the rest of the family/Mafia to know their hurt. Though Sonny is older than Luce, Luce understands the stress Sonny is under and tries to help in anyway he can.

-----------------------------------------

Vincent x Cameron to me is bonding over lost and anger, anger at each other, anger at their parents and anger at Michael. Their love language is yelling at each other or growling at each other. But behind hide closed doors their sweet to each other.

-----------------------------------------

Two-Face x Enzo is something a little sweet and a little dangerous as Two-Face works for the Barzinis and Enzo works for the Corleones. Their sweet and warm when they can but can be rude towards each other if they need to keep cover.

-----------------------------------------

Mateo x Michael is something reckless and goofy, sweet and unforgiving. They don't care if their seen they are in love and if they could they'd run down the street screaming about it.

-----------------------------------------

Valentino x Mo is something else, it's rough and painful it's powerplay and degrading. They really don't show affection in public, but sometimes Valentino can be heard telling Mo good job, but that's not too offen.

-----------------------------------------

Benni x Tom are the "tired old gays" they are so done with the younger ones bullshit. Their sweet to each other, especially when their exhausted. They don't get injured much but when they do they take care of each other. They leave each other notes and it's sweet.

-----------------------------------------

#luce x sonny #Vincent x Cameron #Two-Face x Enzo #Mateo x Michael #Valentino x Mo #Benni x Tom

[melis-writes]

Victoria touching herself for Michael to watch. 😳

😳 😳 How many of us girlies can sit still while doing that in front of Michael Corleone…

‘God…’ With your head slightly tilted back and lost within self indulgence, your eyes remain half open while soft, hot breaths escaping your lips with each moan.

Michael’s plush, full lips wrap around the end his half-finished cigarette as he keeps his eyes scouring over your body in both entertainment and amusement; arousal pulsating over his body.

Kneeling on the center of the bed with your legs spread as wide as you can keep them, your fingers toy over your dewy clit—spreading your wetness over the folds of your pussy again and again.

Michael’s lustful gaze over you only intensifies your arousal pumping through you, rushing warmth to your skin as your breathing begins to hitch on and off.

Michael’s half shrugged off overcoat loosely hands over his shoulders and arms as he sits upon the armchair in the corner of the bedroom, facing you.

Michael’s tie is almost completely loosened; five of the buttons on his dress shirt undone to reveal a peek of his chest hair, his leather belt on the floor with one hand resting over his thigh while he smokes with the other in what one may describe as almost elegant yet cautious.

Not once does Michael take his eyes off of you or your actions, and while he watches you tease and please yourself, you feel his eyes directly locked with yours but over every inch of your body at the same time.

Michael notices the way your tongue wets your lips, how you squeeze your eyes shut when you edge off your growing orgasm and how the muscles in your body strain towards the rush of pleasure constantly hitting you.

“Perfect,” he whispers out, watching you slick two fingers inside of your pussy in and out in perfect rhythm; the sloppy sounds of your arousal’s lubrication being nothing but music to his ears.

“M-Michael,” you breathe, bucking your hips out of reaction as you feel more of your wetness begin to trickle inbetween your thighs.

“Good girl,” Michael comments back—speaking in a soft, ushered tone as he watches your thighs begin to quiver again. “Hold yourself back for me, again.”

You give a small, shaky nod as you continue to rub over your throbbing clit with your thumb; your fingers practically sliding over your pussy from how wet you’ve grown.

“You…” You moan softly, squeezing your eyes shut for a brief second, “love watching me do this to myself, d-don’t you?”

Michael’s gaze hardens over you at your question as he gives you a slow, stern nod—blowing smoke out towards you. “Are you talking back to me?”

“N-no, Don Corleone,” you whine, slowly beginning to add a third finger in.

Michael lowers his cigarette, putting it out upon the crystal ashtray next to him; noticing how your actions begin to slow down from an inevitable orgasm attempting to push through.

“Don’t,” Michael speaks out, gesturing for you to come to him.

“I was—” You pant quietly, moving your hands away.

“You’re not going to let yourself cum,” Michael states, interrupting you. “Come here.”

Blushing furiously, you slowly get off the bed and begin to get down on your knees; careful with your thighs shaking again before you look up at Michael obediently.

“You’re doing so well,” Michael purrs, reaching towards the fly of his dress trousers. “Come here. You won’t come without me this time.”

#godfather au #michael corleone x reader #michael corleone #michael corleone x reader smut #michael corleone x oc #michael corleone smut #smut prompts #moth to flame fic #moth to flame fanfic #godfather x reader #godfather smut #canon #vichael

[chicoca]

Did you know that i have your heart in the garden?

Chapter two: can't take my eyes off of you/ ao3

Song: can't take my eyes off you - engelbert humperdinck

Warnings: Violent descriptions and suggestive acts.

Words: 7.6K

dedicated to my beloved @yezzyyae ♡

A few days before his arrival, Michael and Nina face their own forbidden desires. A look at Nina's engagement. And small encounters.

Read masterlist for summary and playlist <3

Don Tommasino’s house remained relatively silent, even with all the soldiers hanging around. What he could always hear was the melody that the little radio, in the kitchen, was playing. Some italian ballads with romantic tones that set the mood for silent afternoons. Sometimes, when he came down unexpectedly, he dared to think that you were there in the kitchen, dancing slowly to the music, feeling the notes in your being.

As every Saturday he had planned an outing to Palermo, in the company of his bodyguards. It wasn’t like they could defend him. The reality was that they served as witnesses and backup for anything that happened in Sicily. He didn’t know much, but they told him things were tense between The Families. New businesses with new faces arrived. Men deported from the United States who managed to establish themselves as new mafiosi. Prostitution, drugs and corruption already invaded Sicily. But these men appeared more aggressive, and that was bad to the Don. Because he was an old–fashioned man, his domain didn’t contemplate things beyond the management of territories and alliances with the wealthiest men in town. His power within those large spaces attracted the attention of the new mafiosi, causing their protection to be weakened. 

The Quintana family had control of drug trafficking in Corleone, especially heroin, which is why they had the power to intimidate the new mafiosi. By having a large hectares of crops and a lot of men in production, they dominated that business. Like the new mafiosi, the Quintanas also wanted to own the lands that Don Tommasino managed, as well as his contacts with the elite and politics. Don Tommasino didn’t mix with the new forms of extortion, having the police on his side and Lieutenant Gaspare Pisciotta, he was protected from any ambush.

That’s why the war didn’t end. Men died from side to side but no one gave in. Don Tommasino wasn’t going to, much less Guido Quintana. But time has passed and the Dons, even without retiring, have granted opinions from their heirs. Simone supported his father in maintaining the land and promoted new perspectives on the trafficking business. And Leandro, for his part, had an alliance in mind, because, according to him, the De Rosas and the Quintanas could be much stronger if they were united. Of course, that meeting ended in an altercation where Don Tommasino profoundly refused to involve you. Leandro promised that it would be his only attempt to mediate peace, since he didn’t intend to be soft on his enemies. For Don Tommasino that was final, but he didn’t count on Leandro finding you in Paris while you were studying. His plan was almost perfect. Court you, fall in love, get married and inevitably become part of the De Rosas, you being a Quintana. It would be something irreparable for the clan.

Sadly for him, your soul was too indomitable to fall for a man thirsty for your father’s power. You knew it the third or fourth time he spoke to you, but you still couldn’t walk away. Leandro appeared in many places, persuading you with presents, pretty words and smiles. When that didn’t work he was honest with you. He admitted that he would hurt your father, even though he didn't want to because that meant hurting you. For him there were two ways to get what he wanted, and there was a good way and a bad way. You had to decide.

Although you never wanted to get involved in your father’s business, you were aware of it and supportive of his decisions regarding what the family meant. You met politicians, greeted their wives, talked to their daughters while your father made deals in his office. You knew how it worked and your father wouldn’t lie to you if you asked. At the end of the day you understood the value of his work, and you loved him so much that you didn’t have to think twice. Leandro wasn’t a bad man, he didn’t treat you badly, he didn't threaten you directly, and he never tried to do anything to you.  For you, he was just asking you to help, and how could you not do it if it meant your father’s safety.

When your brothers found out they swore death to the Quintanas. Even Guido didn’t agree to form such a bond. But you got stubborn. Leandro was capable of murdering your entire family in order to ascend and dominate all of Corleone. He was hungry for power and your family was just an obstacle that, for better or worse, he had to deal with. The Quintanas were known for being bloodthirsty and cruel. They had no mercy with women, children or babies. They had killed entire families, including pets. They left no trace of anything after stealing it all. 

You took it as a duty. Something you could do and live with. Leandro was attractive and educated. He could be a good man if he put his mind to it. You wouldn’t be the first woman to marry for convenience. And even though your father never wanted that fate for you, it seemed that the world chose to reduce your life like that. It was ultimate. You agreed to get married with the promise that your family would be fine, like a guarantee of the mafia. Leandro didn’t plan to disappoint you, with the commitment to marry you, Don Tommasino granted some land that would only be given with the birth of the firstborn Quintana–De Rosa.

You hadn’t thought about being a mother yet. But you knew that Leandro had it in mind and wanted to get you pregnant as soon as possible. Therefore, your wedding would be in a week. Planned in less than a month. A month that you left college, abandoning your artistic dreams in the name of your family. You could still write and publish, you have been doing it for a while. Also teach literature at a local school. But your great aspirations were already a thing of the past. Travel the world, learn, live your experiences deeply. You planned to be free, with the power that being your father’s daughter gave you. For a moment you seemed to escape the fate of every woman in the Sicilian mafia. But time came to you with the face of a man whom you will have to tolerate your entire life.  That’s your destiny.

So Michael was a surprise to you. The obvious attraction was clear, and maybe in another world you would have tried something. But it was impossible, Michael seemed to be an inaccessible man in his own tumult of problems. You had your own. So, no matter how hard it was, avoiding him was the best, because in his presence you seemed to talk more, and flirt, and be who you were before Leandro appeared.

You knew that that Saturday he would go out to Palermo with his guards. That’s why you stayed in the kitchen helping your mother with lunch. He wouldn’t eat at home, preferring to take a couple of sandwiches for the road. As an irony of life, your mother asked you to debone the chickens that he would take. So now, with the ballad playing in the background, you shook your hips gently while you sank your fingers into the oily flesh. Behind you your mother was talking about the decorations that would arrive tomorrow. But you couldn’t pay attention, because you heard those footsteps approaching.

At the entrance to the kitchen he appears with his hair combed carelessly, wearing all dark, pants and dress shirt under a large coat, and he stands there with his gloved hands crossed, waiting to be noticed. 

He’s behind you, you know it by the tingle that runs down your spine, it feels warm like drinking coffee on a cold day. His perfume and the smell of soap, that only visitors use, impregnated your senses with his essence, a delight that you took with your eyes closed.

“Good morning, Michele. Ready to go, I see” Your mother said cheerfully.

You looked over your shoulder as he approached and leaned on the counter. For a second he looked at you in the eyes, but you turned around avoiding him.

“Buongiorno Signora De Rosa… Buongiorno Nina (Good morning Mrs. De Rosa… Good morning Nina)” The way he curled his tongue saying your name almost gave you a shiver, so slow it seemed like he was savoring naming you.

“Nina, saluta il ragazzo… Dio, questa ragazza è tra le nuvole (Nina, greet the boy… God, this girl is in the clouds)” You turned around looking briefly at your mother. You blushed a little at the embarrassment you felt, if Michael noticed it he made no attempt to show it.

“Buongiorno Michele, sarai a Palermo tutto il pomeriggio? (Good morning Michael, will you be in Palermo all afternoon?)”  You asked, going to wash your hands from the chicken grease. 

You were wearing a long skirt that swayed with every step you took. Michael couldn’t help but look at your hips, as the fabric hugged your curves for a few precious seconds before releasing them. 

“Starò lì per qualche ora… (I’ll be there for a couple of hours)” He answered. 

You turned and took the plate with the chicken to the counter. Your mother had already cut the bread, so your job was to fill it and wrap it. Under his watchful gaze, you began to prepare his food. 

“Well… Nina has to try on her dress. Oh! Michele, is very very pretty” Your mother said, making gestures in the air, imitating the fabric falling from the veil.

“Oh really? When is the wedding?” His eyes seemed to pierce your being. You didn’t know what he was thinking, but you wondered why he looked at you that way.

“Next Saturday! Oh mi Dio! sarà bello bello (Oh my God! It will be beautiful beautiful)” Your mother exclaimed enthusiastically “You are gonna be there, don’t you Michele?”.

“I don’t think so. I’m not invited” His passive tone of voice failed to demonstrate the clear intention of questioning you. For your part, you could only look at him with a raised eyebrow, not quite understanding what he wanted from you.

“Oh but of course you are invited! It’s a big celebration”.

“Mama, I don’t think is a good idea” You interrupted “Michele needs to go unnoticed. Leandro’s entire family and ours will be hanging around the house. I don’t think it will be good for him… for you” You finished saying with your eyes fixed on him.

He just shrugged his shoulders and stood up, no longer leaning on the counter in front of you. You were finishing making the sandwiches when he stole a piece of chicken from you and put it in his mouth.  You don’t know exactly what it was, but his intense gaze, the way he left his fingers suspended against his lips and the soft way he chewed enthralled you. The last thing was his tongue passing over his lips, tasting the tips of his fingers. It was in the almost smile that he formed, the small vestige of what he noticed that provoked you. You couldn’t understand what happened until your mother held you by the shoulders.

“It’s ready, Nina. Can you go out and call your brother?” Your mother’s request brought you out of trance. You didn’t look at him again, you didn’t want to know what face he had.

Michael watched you leave. He followed you with his eyes until he stopped in your absence. Even so the kitchen kept your perfume, he would recognize it anywhere after carrying it in his pocket for days. Your handkerchief folded in the left pocket of his coat, just above his chest. If he concentrated he could feel the folds and the light weight pressing against him. He thought if maybe he would be able to imagine your hand in the place of that handkerchief.

You, leaning on the door frame, gestured for Calogero to come in. That day only your brother and mother were in the house for lunchtime. Your father had to make many agreements with the Quintanas. Agreements in which you didn’t actively participate, at the request of your fiancé. Your father promised you that everything was going well, that’s why you didn’t worry when you knew that he was sharing with people that, for a long time, he called enemies.

Calogero told you he would be in in a second, so you decided to come back to the kitchen. Thinking about seeing Michael caused a strange feeling, a childish emotion that exploded in your chest with the desire to giggle for nothing. It made you want to run or jump in order to expend this ball of excitement that made no sense to you. It was dangerous, a break in your perfectly planned scheme that involved no one but Leandro. A part of you wants to feel the same emotions for your fiancé, it would be much easier that way. But there were so many differences, and you didn’t even understand where that attraction, that seemed to push you towards him, came from.

You thought about going to your room. Pretending that you had to do something. To wait for him to leave so you could walk freely around your house. You didn’t even think that he was looking for you, that he was stealthily watching you from behind, with your handkerchief pressed to his nose. He admired your silhouette still near the half-open door. The cold made your skin crawl, and for a second you felt a tug in your stomach that served as a warning, as if you were an animal, you felt the presence on your back, and you turned around so quickly that you hit his hand, the one holding the handkerchief, throwing it down.

“Oh! Che spavento (Oh! What a scare)... I’m so sorry Michele, I didn’t see you” You made to bend down to pick it up but he stopped you.

“Don’t worry, it was my fault” He said as he put one of his knees on the ground to pick it up. His head stayed close to your hip and as he looked up you admired his bruised face in the pale winter light.

“You should let a doctor look at that injury” You didn’t control yourself. You raised your hand to gently run your fingertips over his jaw. You felt his rough skin against yours, a warmth that you didn’t expect to receive.

Michael avoided closing his eyes when he felt you caress him. He slowly took your wrist and moved it away from his face. He rose until he was standing, still holding you. When he noticed this he let go, and tried not to focus on the warmth he still felt from having touched you.

“Don’t worry” He said without adding more.

You watched him put your handkerchief in his pocket and then adjust his coat. With a paper bag with his food ready, he was going to ask you to move out the door. At that moment Calogero entered.

“Buon pomeriggio Michele, goditi Palermo! (Good afternoon Michael, enjoy Palermo!)” He said as he grabbed you by the shoulders, almost carrying you along with him “Ho fame, sorella, mangiamo! (I'm hungry, sister, let’s eat!)” He almost didn’t wait for you to go to the dining room. 

Behind you Michael had already left and was talking to Calo and Fabrizio. Without looking at him again, you followed your brother. Michael briefly watched you leave. He asked one of his guards to close the door and began walking, thinking about the fresh air he would have in Palermo.

**

“Raccontaci qualcosa di New York (Tell us something about New York)” Said Fabrizio while eating. 

The three men were sitting on the dry grass. That particular day it wasn’t so cold and the humidity had decreased.

“Sai che sono di New York? (How do you know I’m from New York?)” asked Michael.

“Noi ascoltiamo. Qualcuno ci ha detto che eri importante – a big-a shot (We heard. Somebody told us you were real important)” responded Fabrizio. Calo, next to him, nodded.

“I’m the son of a big shot” That made both men curious.

“L’America è ricca come dicono? (Is America as rich as they say?)” Fabrizio asked again, Michael noticed his interest in his country. Calo rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Smettila di seccarmi con queste cose sull’America rica!! (Stop bothering me with this rich America stuff!!)” Fabrizio just laughed while Calo grunted in boredom.

“Hey, take me to the America! If you need a good lupara in America” Fabrizio says while palming his gun “Take me, I’ll be the best man you can get!” He ends by saying with genuine enthusiasm.

“I’ll think about it” Michael said, looking around. Fabrizio applauded at his response “What’s going on there?”.

In the distance, in a small straw house, an altercation was taking place between four men. One of them, an old man, was on his knees praying with his palms together. Michael could see the difference between them, the standing men carried rifles similar to those of Fabrizio and Calo, they were talking to each other stiffly while they pointed at the house and the old man. Suddenly one of them kicks the man in the chin making him scream in pain. Another of the men points the gun and shoots into the man’s back, causing the other two to fire a burst of bullets at high speed.

“Merda! Andiamo! Andiamo! (Shit! Let’s go! Let’s go!)” Fabrizio exclaimed, taking his lupara and sliding through the grass until he reached the street. Michael and Calo followed him.

“What’s happening?” Michael asked somewhat crouched, the three of them moved downwards.

“A punizione” Calo said.

When they were further away they stopped. Michael looked back waiting for one of the men to appear but there was no one.

“What’s a punizione?” Michael asked.

“Some men rob these shacks that serve as shelter for soldiers… The owners, the clan, punish with death” Fabrizio said, passing his hand over his forehead, he looked nervous.

“That old man robbed that house?” He asked incredulously.

“Probably not. But they surely saw him nearby and he didn’t have backup to defend him” Michael looked at him intently, as if he didn’t fully understand what he was saying “Look, there are rules here that you don’t know. That’s why we walk with you wherever. Anyone could accuse you of something and kill you instantly”.

“Morto morto (Dead dead)” Calo whispered, Michael ignored him.

“Don’t worry. You just have to go unnoticed. Do not go to places with many people, especially with people from other clans” Fabrizio warned.

“The Quintana family will come to the wedding” Calo mentioned, Fabrizio nodded to it.

“Devi essere atento… Careful (You have to be careful)” Michael nodded, starting to talk down the hill “A wedding!” Fabrizio suddenly exclaimed.

“Un matrimonio (A wedding)” Calo followed.

“Quella bella donna si sposa, è così carina (That pretty woman is getting married, so pretty)” Fabrizio said, bringing his hands to his chest. 

“Pretty pretty” Calo said.

“Cosa darei per una donna così. È instruita… e ha un corpo! (What would I give for a woman like that. She is educated… and has a body!” He made the faint of your hips with his hands and grunted in ecstasy.

“Un bel corpo, ben formato (A good body, well formed)” Continued Calo.

Michael remained silent.

“What a pity that she’s going to marry a Quintana” Fabrizio proclaimed sadly.

“Pensa che Nina lo guarderebbe! (He thinks Nina would look at him!)” Calo said mockingly. He elbowed Michael to make him laugh.

“Why it’s a shame that she marries Quintana?”.

 “Why?! That man is the devil” Fabrizio exclaimed, Calo next to him nodded “L’hai visto con il vecchio? (Did you see that with the old man?)” Michael nodded “Ha fatto lo stesso con un bambino (Did the same with a kid)”.

“Lo sapevano tutti, aveva lasciato il corpo per strada (Everyone knew, he left the body in the street)” Said Calo.

“And she knows that?” Michael couldn’t imagine that, knowing that information, you would marry him.

“No no, that girl doesn’t know anything” Fabrizio hit his forehead in a mocking gesture “According to what they say, she returned from Paris with the man on her arm”.

“The Don wasn’t happy, no no” Calo added.

“True! But the wedding will happen anyway, it’s a surprise”.

“Why?” Michael asked again.

“Guardalo, che curiosità (Look at him, so curious)” Calo giggled, Michael ignored him.

“Quintana e De Rosa are enemies” Fabrizio commented, approaching a tree to rest “They have fought over Corleone for years. Don Guido hates Don Tommasino. Some say they have a personal conflict” Calo nodded at that and pointed to Fabrizio.

“They say Don Tommasino had an affair with Don Guido’s wife” Fabrizio laughed.

“No no, that isn’t true. But whatever, they hate each other, so they never agreed on anything. So, when his daughter appeared with Leandro Quintana proclaiming they are going to marry everyone was shocked”.

“Shocked!” Calo repeated.

“And no one knows how that happened?” Michael asked. Calo looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“So curious for girl Nina, eh?” Michael rolled his eyes and sat down.

“I just have questions… That guy, Leandro, is he really bad?” Fabrizio sighed and adjusted his lupara.

“Yes, he first killed when he was twelve years old. He killed his dog because it barked so loud. We all knew he hated the De Rosa family, he wanted to have it all in Corleone. Maybe he loves her, we don’t know, but that man is crazy” Fabrizio said. 

They were silent for a moment, which Michael appreciated because his mind was full of you. Leandro didn’t seem like a particularly aggressive man when he met him. He remembers the handshake, the cordial smile and the soft kiss he left on your cheek, which continues to surprise him. For a Sicilian he was quite daring with his fiancee. But what he still keeps in his mind was your downcast gaze and the lack of reciprocity with him. He knew there were parts he still didn’t understand, but you seemed to be indecipherable even in your transparency. 

He wanted to know why you looked at him that way. Why did he feel that you asked something from him every time he saw those beautiful eyes. He would give you whatever you wanted if his soul was weak, but he knows his limits. And even though his desires went beyond being nice to you, he couldn’t allow himself to be a man to you. If Leandro really was who they said he was, it was better for Michael to stay aside and just have the joy of looking at you for these months that he had left in Sicily.

**

The day seemed calm. After lunch the only thing left to do was do nothing, since you didn’t have things scheduled. The wedding was approaching and the preparations were ready, the only thing left to do was say “I do” and be a Quintana. It still seems like a dream when you think about it. Marrying Leandro and starting a family. He had already confessed to you that he wanted at least five children, something that left you silent, causing him to laugh. In your mind there was barely the possibility of having one, you didn’t want to think beyond that, but five babies, you were already tired of just imagining it. Even so you accepted, the only thing you asked him was that you wouldn’t be involved in his business.

For your father the business was a man’s job, which didn’t involve women or children. Being a little soft to you, he let you know a few things when you were curious. But it was a curiosity fueled by concern. Seeing your father tired or angry made you alert and controlling, you wanted to know what was happening and what to do. There was very little you could do, but you could try to understand, give him an ear for his angry babbling, be someone he can trust. 

You were spoiled, you had always been a daddy’s girl, no one could blame you if he was around and your brothers were the same. But that would end, you knew it when you saw your father’s disappointed eyes. Being Leandro’s wife would distance you from him, it would put you in a position in which he couldn’t intervene. His sadness was so big that he cried when he found out that you were getting married, that even with his greatest efforts he could not keep you away from danger.  Leandro promised to never hurt you and, although it was difficult for him to admit it, he actually believed him. But that wasn’t the problem, it was what that marriage meant. A contract between families that would make them partners for life, unbreakable the moment the heir is born. What will happen when Leandro wants his son to be the Don of both families? Death, death between cousins and brothers like the old royalty. 

Protecting the family condemned it in the future. But you only thought about the present, that your father’s health was becoming more and more compromised, that Simone has not yet married or formed his own life to take on a power. If you could guarantee that Leandro wouldn’t murder anyone and would be prudent in his decisions with your family, then there was nothing to fear and nothing else mattered. 

Now, sitting against the trunk of your favorite tree, you were reading Felicia Hemans.

“Lonely she stood:–in her mournful eyes // Lay the clear midnight of southern skies, //And the drooping fringe of their lashes low, //Half veil'd a depth of unfathom'd wo. //Stately she stood–tho' her fragile frame //Seem'd struck with the blight of some inward flame, //And her proud pale brow had a shade of scorn, //Under the waves of her dark hair worn” You murmured following a beaten rhythm.

“... She had been torn from her home away, // With her long locks crown'd for her bridal day, // And brought to die of the burning dreams //That haunt the exile by foreign streams.” You stopped and caressed the pages of the book. The Sicilian captive, how ironic, you thought as you sighed.

You closed the book and stretched out on the grass, you spread your legs letting your skirt rise slightly, you felt the strands of grass touch your shins and you giggled involuntarily at the tickling. 

You felt suddenly liberated, with the clear sky above you like a light blanket. The time seemed eternal. You were in a pause that calmed your soul until it left you drowsy. You almost closed your eyes, but the pale blue was too beautiful to ignore it. You wanted to paint the sky. You raised your hands and moved your fingers in the air, simulating invented faces that little by little coincided with already known lines. Round and big eyes with a roman nose that fell at its tip to the cupid’s bow, there its fleshy shape delighted you. 

What greater beauty was that hidden among forbidden pleasures? 

Michael seemed to completely invade you without doing anything at all. He had bewitched you and now you swarmed to desire him and ignore him. Why wasn’t he the one who found you in Paris? You could imagine him with his clean and smiling face, being just a college student. Has he ever been like that? Free, as you once were? He was a man of war, he was a man of the mafia, but would he be a free man? Could he be the one you would draw in your dreams? Your eternal dreams where life didn’t imprison you in this reality. You dared to think that in another world it would be different. But what would you know? You didn’t even know if he left any woman in New York, if so you would have the excuse to not fantasize about him anymore, he would be a forbidden man, as forbidden as you were.

Life hasn’t smiled on you for a few months now, and now you only have to wait for what destiny has in store for you, because there was not much else to do.  You deeply believed that Michael’s arrival could mean something. Your spiritual impulse wanted you to believe that you saw signs, but you couldn’t fall for those things. You were already sunk to believe that there was an escape in the form of a beautiful man. 

Now a little annoyed with yourself, you got up to go home, picked up the book in a huff and adjusted your skirt. Your hair retained traces of grass and leaves, tangled in a bun at the nape of your neck, with thin hairs contouring your face. 

Without wanting to be in your own body, you left your place to cross the stream, with stones placed by yourself, you crossed your improvised bridge and walked to the fence. Your used and folded book dangled from your hand as you climbed and threw yourself to the other side. You landed on your feet. When you saw that none of your father’s men paid attention to you, you walked to the back entrance. 

When you entered you suddenly ran into Michael. He was wearing a simple dress shirt with his black pants and suspenders. He quickly noticed your disheveled appearance and, without showing it, he found himself shocked when he felt the pressure of your body with his. 

You pulled away quickly, your red cheeks, whether from how annoyed you were or how embarrassed you felt, gave you an adorable touch that almost made him smile. He could feel his own warmth on his face, the blood pumping rapidly through his veins. 

“I’m sorry” You spoke quietly, not looking him in the eyes because you knew you couldn’t escape his gaze.

“Hi Nina, Where were you?” Michael asked as he removed a leaf from your hair, surprised you looked at him. 

“Mmm I was in my place, reading” You showed him your book which he took while looking at the cover.

“Who is she?” He pointed his thumb at the face of Felicia Hemans.

“Felicia Hemans, she was a great poet, one of the most read in the english language” Michael still held the book, his long fingers monopolizing the cover, leaving your fingers with almost no space.

“What’s your favorite?” You looked at him a little confused, Michael noticed the tilt of your head and your inquisitive look “Poem, your favorite poem”.

“Oh! The Sicilian captive, that’s my favorite one” He raised his eyebrows a little, almost imperceptible, but you noticed it “A woman who sings about her homeland and how she must die far from it”.

“That’s sad, why do you like that?” Michael didn’t let go of the book, instead he changed the position of his wrist making your fingers brush against the back of his hand.

“It’s beautiful, her pained song due to the abandonment of Sicily, the love for her home makes the poem fall into a wonderful melancholy. The feeling of distance is necessary when you aren’t where you belong” Your words pierced him in the utmost sincerity. His eyes with a softer touch, almost rounded on the edge of a tenderness, gave you a new facet of him.

“Can I borrow it?” You looked at him delighted and nodded effusively. You dropped the book, losing his touch, but quickly took his hands with enthusiasm.

“Yes, yes, you can read it in its entirety and then we can comment on it!”.

Since you left college you haven't shared your readings with anyone. There wasn't any interest in your family, and only Dr. Taza read but you didn’t see him enough to talk as you would like. That Michael wanted to read one of your favorite poems took away any trace of annoyance, and you even forgot that you wanted to get away from him as much as possible. Now you just wanted to share this with him.

“I’m not a skilled reader, don’t expect much from me” You shook your head as you let go.

Michael could feel the waning touch of your hands against his, he wanted to squeeze them in order to keep your warmth.

“Read it. I have more books in my library, maybe I can lend you others later, so you don’t get bored while being here” Michael nodded in agreement.

You wanted to go further into the house, to show him some of the things you had. You were enthralled by the idea of showing him one of your passions. He followed you from behind, watching as your walk moved your disordered clothes in a fluttering swat that he tried to ignore.

“Do you know any writers? Anyone you would like to read? I have many americans in my books” You didn’t notice his gaze on you, so focused on showing him your great collection.

“Poe, I think, I read him in school” Michael said.

You walked down the right hallway opening a door where a large library was located. Michael admired the large shelves and long sofas that were in the center. You approached a corner, put your index finger on the spine of the books and began to read the titles, looking for a specific one. You moved your head from side to side following the letters with your back leaning forward. 

Michael could observe the depth of your hips. Round, somewhat pompous, with a softness that, he imagined, must be pleasurable. Your innocently suggestive posture provoked him enough to feel the tension of his body under the clothes. For being in winter his insides felt genuinely hot, almost feverish. He attributed it to being inside the house where the temperature remained warm. Even so, his tense neck had the impulse to turn to continue looking at the room. But impossibly enthralled, your body attracted him enough to surpass his thoughts. For no reason, he compared that curve with his well-known Kay, and for a moment he urgently needed to drink water.

“Here it is!” You said, taking one of the books. You turned around and noticed his stare, a little flustered, you showed him the book “For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams” You recited.

“Annabel Lee” Michael responded with the title of the poem, he took the book in his hands. It had a dark and thick spine, it looked old “Is it inherited?”.

“Yes! It was my grandfather’s. Most of these books belong to the family” You couldn’t help but keep talking “I used to spend a lot of time here when I was a kid. My brothers called me a mouse for hiding and hunched over in this corner” You pointed to your favorite spot, a little armchair.

“I was like that too. Quieter than my brothers” You felt a little tingle knowing that you shared something.

“How many brothers do you have?” You asked, sitting down. Michael sat down too, not too close to you, but close enough to feel his weight on the couch.

“Three and a sister” You looked at him attentively, something he took to continue talking “She… She got married recently”.

“How was it? I guess american weddings are different” Michael shook his head slowly, leaning on his side with his leg bent over the cushion and his arm dangling from the backrest. His entire posture directed at you.

“Most of them were italian. I think all of them, except my companion” That caught your attention. Resting your elbow on the backrest and turning to look at him completely. Both of you looked comfortable on the couch.

“Companion? Your girlfriend?” You asked.

“You could call her that” His somewhat evasive tone made you frown.

“Something happened?” That brought out another shine in his eyes.

“No, nothing happened”.

“And how did she take it?” Michael gestured for you to explain “The fact that you are here, without knowing when you will return”.

“She understands” His passivity made you want to believe him.

“Will you marry her?” That question took him by surprise.

“I don’t know, maybe I should” Even though you asked, you didn’t like his answer and that made you a hypocrite, you knew it.

“Would you do an american wedding? Considering that she is one”.

“No, I don’t think so. Maybe at another time in my life I would have said yes, but I have the need to follow my… Desires” His intense stare made you blush slightly.

“And what are those desires?” You swallowed, you felt nervous even though you didn’t understand why.

“You would like to know”.

Before you could answer, a knock on the side of the door frame announced your mother at the entrance to the library. She looked at you carefully for a second, and then sighed.

“I have dinner ready. Michele, my husband wants to see you” At this Michael nodded and stood up. He didn’t look at you again before disappearing through the door. Your mother looked at you and crossed her arms.

“Cosa fai? Non puoi restare da solo con Michele. Leandro si arrabbierebbe se lo sapesse (What are you doing? You can’t be alone with Michele like that. Leandro would be angry if he knew)” You stood up and rolled your eyes at your mother.

“Non lo saprà (He won’t know)” In response to her silence you added “Non lo saprebbe, vero? Dato che stavo solo chiacchierando, non è che io sia invisibile (He’s not going to know, right? Because I was just chatting, it’s not like I turned invisible)”.

“Dovresti essere invisibile se sei fidanzata con un uomo del genere (You should be invisible if you’re engaged to a man like that)” Your mom hit your shoulder, you whined a little and rubbed yourself.

“Non pensare cose che non sono, e non dire niente a Leandro, sono affari miei cosa gli succede (Don’t think things that aren’t, and don’t say anything to Leandro, it’s my business what happens with him)” Your mother just looked at you disapprovingly.

“Non fare cosa che non dovresti. Ricorda, buone azioni, buoni risultati (Don’t do things you shouldn’t. Remember, good deeds, good results)” You walked away from your mother to go to the dinner room.

“Non preoccuparti, non farò nulla (Don’t worry, I won’t do anything)”.

**

In Don Tommasino’s office, Armando and Andrea were both sitting while the Don was talking to Michael.

“... It has these beautiful peach trees. I’m sure you would like to see them, I can arrange for you to go next week” Said Don Tommasino while drinking.

“I would like that… Isn’t the wedding next week?” Michael asked, that made Armando look at him.

“Oh! Don’t tell me. Yes, it will be held here at the house. All those Quintanas here as if nothing had happened” His voice showed annoyance, he slammed the glass down on the table and made a gesture at Armando “Where is that bastard?”.

“Leandro? Taking care of a few things, he sent flowers to Nina yesterday” Don Tommasino laughed mockingly, and Andrea smirked knowing that he would say.

“That ugly shit! I saw them last night. They were orange. Damn orange! Doesn’t he know that his fiancee hates orange?” Armando covered his mouth to laugh and gestured to Michael before speaking.

“Nina doesn’t hate orange, he does” He says pointing his chin at his Don “You’re just overprotective of your kid, but remember Nina is old now”.

“No man would keep up with my daughter. There isn’t a man on the face of the earth capable of being equal to her” He suddenly looked at Michael “Your father must have felt the same about your sister”.

“I wouldn’t know. I wasn’t there when the whole engagement happened”.

“You will understand when you have a daughter, I swear” Michael nodded at the glass that Armando offered him.

“If you don’t mind me asking. What’s the problem with Leandro?” That prompted Don Tommasino to sigh deeply as he passed his hand over his forehead.

“The Quintanas have been a problem for years, ever since they wanted to dominate Corleone, fleeing from Giuliano like rats. At first I didn’t think it would be a problem, we don’t have the same businesses. But they want to have things that I have and that has caused many deaths. Now, Leandro is another problem, a much more dangerous one now that my daughter is marrying him” Michael put the glass on the table and leaned back in the chair.

“Why is she marrying him, then?” Armando served another glass to Don Tommasino, Andrea remained silent.

“My daughter is a martyr, Michele. She has always been like that, when she was little she cried for killing spiders and when she was an adolescent she dared to challenge me for Calogero. Seek the good for all… And unfortunately Leandro knew what to do. Did you know that I sent her to Paris? to France, so that she could study and become an educated woman. That fucking bastard found her, I don’t know exactly what he said to her, but when she returned I could feel that something had changed. She had that look she’s always had when she does something that will make me angry. She is equally altruistic and stubborn” He sighed again angrily.

“Don’t be so angry, Nina knows what she’s doing even when you don’t believe it” Armando responded, he offered another glass to Michael but he denied.

“I don’t bless that marriage” He grumbled.

“Anyways… Will Michael be able to attend that wedding?” Armando asked.

“I don’t want to lock you, it’s not natural. But a lot of people will be here and I don’t trust those idiots. I could take you to Doctor Taza” Michael thought about it before denying.

“I would like to be here, I have never been to a genuinely italian wedding” He lied “Don’t worry, I’ve introduced myself under a different name and won’t be in the spotlight”.

“Okay… Just be careful, please”.

**

At night Michael seemed to have no rest, he looked at the ceiling without a hint of sleep, even when it was already after one in the morning. He was used to sleeping early, but since he arrived in Sicily he only seemed to have insomnia. Among the recurring images in his head he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Even with all the worries locked in the back of his mind, the first thing that came up was the question of what to do. What to do with this interest that seemed to grow every time he saw you. He didn’t know what caused him to desire to possess you. 

If he was honest with himself the last thing that mattered to him was your engagement, even though he refused the idea because your fiancé, soon to be husband, was a man whom he shouldn’t confront, not while being hidden under the protection of Don Tommasino. It was too risky to even think about you, and he didn’t understand why with every second that passed he felt like he was infatuated with you. 

He remembered the afternoon where he dared to look at your body, and imagined beyond what was allowed. He wanted to know if your skin had the same tone on the curve of your thighs, the curiosity of feeling the soft texture under his fingers, caressing the inside with the slowness of a tickle. Would you be ticklish? Maybe you would giggle amidst the moans that he would gladly listen to. His imagination flew to what you would be like then, if your face would light up with the lust of his touch, if your eyes would mist through those long lashes. He could imagine your long neck stretched out, perfect for him to bite and mark, for your husband to see and know that there was a man pleasuring you, that that man was Michael.

He doesn’t remember if a bold idea had ever excited him so much. Something forbidden. Maybe that made his interest rise, the fact that you were someone outside his limits. And wouldn’t you know it, Michael has been discreet as he should be, but what would happen if he let you know? If perhaps you would dare to be a disloyal woman, even if it means danger. For a second he allowed himself to be selfish, forgetting anything, he just thought that in that same library, in that same couch, you would be there for him, as he wanted and he would do whatever thing he imagined. Curious to know what you would be like blows his mind in a multitude of scenarios. You bent over, stretched out and ready for anything. 

In his ecstasy the exhaustion came in a sudden explosion. His dry and surprising orgasm made him gasp in surprise. He lifted his sheets and looked down with his eyebrows furrowed. Like a fucking teenager, he couldn’t remember the last time his imagination was real enough to provoke him. Knowing that he was already a lost cause, he got up to go to the bathroom. The last thing on his mind was berating himself for having crossed a line that would now lead to more.

CHAPTER THREE

#the godfather #al pacino #michael corleone #michael corleone x oc #michael corleone au #michael corleone x reader #the godfather au #michael corleone fanfic #fanfic #ao3 #chicoca

[lostloveletters]

Bruised Fruit Masterlist

Summary: Gloria falls like overripe fruit from a wilting tree branch, and Michael Corleone intends to devour her amidst the rot and decay that's long since taken root in his family, intent on dooming her with him for a chance at another heir.

Warnings: Canon divergence, sexually explicit content, infidelity, period typical attitudes, negative discussions of abortion, Catholicism, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) related to WWII, breeding kink, death, angst, emotional manipulation [This will be expanded as more chapters are added]

Takes place Part II onward. No Kay hate.

Do not interact if you are under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content. I will block you.

AO3 link | Gloria's Intro Post | Main blog

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Misc fics: Vague Concern

#michael corleone x oc #michael corleone #the godfather #the godfather part ii #michael corleone fanfic #the godfather fanfic #michael corleone x ofc #al pacino #bruised fruit masterlist #bruised fruit fic

[ddesfleurs]

It hurts to love you, but I still love you.

chapter 3

summary: Michael always made a point of surprising Grace, he liked to see her with a smile on her face, especially when he was responsible for the smile. She was worth gold and he knew he didn't deserve her.

warnings: cheat, angst, anger, melancholy, light smut, mention of sex, fluff

notes: sorry for the delay, i take my own time to write. i need to feel that it's time to continue writing instead of just doing it. that doesn't make any sense, does it? here we will have some cute moments and memories but also a lot of anguish and sadness. hope you like it.

Michael was walking among the shelves full of rather dusty books in a small old bookstore away from the center. If on the outside he maintained a calm and austere countenance, on the inside the man felt like a nervous wreck. He faced certain difficulties in business with his associates and with the other families, but oddly enough this was not even the issue that most concerned him at the moment. The biggest difficulty Michael was having was balancing his time between his family, wife and children, and his lover. Pathetic.

When he started having an affair with Grace, Michael had no idea that he would quickly find himself emotionally involved with the girl. He had to admit, he'd started dating her because his marriage bored him. The relationship with Kay was no longer the same, he had deluded himself into thinking that by marrying her he would be doing the right thing and would rescue the love he felt for her before going to Italy.

The more time passed, the clearer it became to Michael that Kay was the wrong choice, she didn't understand the family's life and business, and he felt her gaze of fear and silent rebuke all the time. So, like many men who have already lost the shame of their own actions, Michael, upon seeing that bright-eyed angel for the first time, resolved that he had to have her for himself and what should have been just a physical involvement, momentary amusement, only to forget about problems at home, became essential to Michael's existence. He never told Grace that as he thought it was unfair to trap the girl with pretty words and false promises he could never keep, but he loved her. He loved her in a different way than he had loved Apollonia, and he loved her far more than he had ever loved Kay.

Michael felt like an unscrupulous scoundrel, from his actions he was making two women unhappy. His relationship with Kay was doomed from the start and in a way even she knew it, but he felt guilty for dragging Grace into this story because he could never give her a happy life, no matter how much he wanted to. Grace was constantly on his mind, the first person he thought of in the morning and the last person he thought of before bed. He thought of her smile, her sweet words, and the way she always held him tight and said, "I'm yours, Mike. I love you." Sometimes he wondered if it wouldn't be better to end it all and give her the chance to be happy with a man who could fulfill her desires, but Michael felt too selfish to bear the thought of giving up his sunshine so that she was from another man.

He was supposed to go to their apartment yesterday, but he couldn't because Kay, who is pregnant for the third time, got sick. Michael did what was decent and spent the entire night at his wife's side, he wouldn't forgive himself if something happened to her or the baby. He was happy with her pregnancy, always wanted a big family, and it was good news. Michael was very happy for the children he already had, Anthony and Mary were the owners of his heart and now this third baby would come to claim his share.

Of course, he couldn't tell Grace the real reason he didn't show up yesterday, but he hoped that after some drama, she'd forgive him and be as nice as ever. That was one of his favorite things about her, Grace wasn't a person to hold a lot of resentment, usually he always managed to soften her heart with nice words and a few kisses. But this time, he felt they would have such an argument. Michael had noticed, during the phone call, that she was strange. Something was troubling the girl and she certainly needed him to make everything okay. And Michael wanted to be that person for her, that man who would make everything okay, but he had other obligations and people who also demanded his attention.

He had no intention of buying her, but since he couldn't explain himself by telling the truth, he hoped the book he was looking for would soften her heart. One of the things that made him fall in love with Grace was that she was as passionate about a pair of diamonds as she was about an old book. She had that youthful glow that suited her so well, that reminded him that she wouldn't be with him forever and made him want to enjoy every moment with her. He was looking forward to seeing Grace and apologizing for not going to see her yesterday.

Finally found the book he was looking for, Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen. Grace loved the author and, she didn't know how, had lost her favorite book of hers. She had been talking about it for days and in the same minute Michael had decided he was going to give her another copy. He picked up the book and lightly stroked the cover. Austen. Grace really was a romantic, wasn't she? Your romantic girl.

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As soon as Grace knocked on the door of her aunt's house holding a suitcase and her eyes red and tearful, the woman knew something was wrong. She had no trouble hearing the truth from Grace's lips, as soon as she asked what had happened, Grace told her everything. The whole story from the beginning to the last events. She cried in her aunt's arms as she had only cried once before, on the occasion of the tragic death of her parents. Maureen didn't scold her niece, nor did she say harsh words to her, she knew that the girl's heart was broken and that this was not the time or the right moment to talk deeply about everything that had happened in Grace's life. Now what the girl needed was a safe haven and a shoulder to cry on, and that's exactly what she gave her niece, especially as she worried about her niece's nervous state that seemed to be on edge.

Grace lay down on her old bed, the bed she used to sleep in as a little girl, and stared at the old, worn wallpaper in her old room, it was pale pink with tiny wildflowers arranged in arrangements. It was beautiful, she had always liked that wallpaper. She shouldn't have left San Francisco, gone to Nevada to work, and look what she's gotten herself into. She started to cry again, the tears flowed without embarrassment, they seemed to be already familiar with the route they had to take. Her thoughts wandered to Michael and Nevada. Michael. Your beloved Michael. He was the reason for the deep weeping she was crying and for the pain in her heart. Grace missed him so much that she thought that if it was possible to die from missing someone, that would be the cause of her death.

She missed Michael, mostly missed the part of him she never had and could never have. Grace dreamed of having him all to herself but instead received small fragments of him. Fragments that had long satisfied her and probably would have stayed that way if Kay hadn't come to her apartment to break the news that she was pregnant with her third baby. That was the last straw for Grace, she was giving up everything, a whole life full of possibilities, and for what? For Michael to just use her as a diversion while he had another child in his wife and they were the perfect family? Grace felt so stupid for not realizing it sooner, for not walking away before getting involved, for letting it get this far.

Grace felt stupid and desolate for having been content with so little for so long. But she couldn't help it, she loved Michael and, well, they say love is blind. Mine certainly must be, Grace thought, remembering the few atrocities Michael had told her about his work and how little it bothered her. Grace didn't care about Michael's job and what he did or didn't do. All that mattered to her was the way he treated her and the time they spent together. It mattered to her that he was okay and that he would see her on Thursday. It mattered the way they made love throughout the house and the way he held her in his arms like she was the most important thing he owned.

She especially remembered a day when Michael had taken her for a walk by the lake. Grace felt so happy to be there, the place was beautiful and romantic, it really touched her heart that Michael had bothered to take her on a romantic date, a place outside the apartment where they could be comfortable and act like love birds. Grace kicked off her shoes and jogged to the edge of the lake where she waited for Michael with expectant eyes.

"Oh no, you're not going to convince me to go in there."

"Come on, Michael. Just a little!"

"There's nothing you can do to convince me." Michael said as he looked at her with a small smile at the corner of his lips.

"Come on, take off your shoes, let's at least walk along the coast. We'll just get our feet wet. You don't want to miss out on all the fun, do you?" Grace spoke in a slightly mischievous tone.

Michael took off his shoes angrily and walked over to Grace. He felt the cold water touch his feet but he didn't care, he only had eyes and thoughts for the woman in front of him. She was radiant and smiling like he had never seen her before. He loved her smile and the way her eyes sparkled.

Grace took Michael's hand and they walked down the coast, making small talk and exchanging nice words. The day shone, shone like their love, clean and vicious and with a hint of the impossible. The two walked, played with each other and even played little guessing games. When she got bored, Grace just ran out and yelled at Michael: Catch me if you can. Not only did he catch up with her quickly, he spun her through the air as they both laughed happily at their silly child's game. When Michael put her down, he looked at her in a way that made Grace's heart race, and then he kissed her deeply like a movie kiss that she willingly indulged in.

Grace loosened Michael's tie as she fumbled for his belt, trying to loosen it. He let out a low laugh as he hurried to take her hands in his. She bit her lower lip as she shot him a confused look and blushed.

"What? you do not want?" Said the disappointed girl.

"Yes, yes, I do." Michael spoke with a frustrated sigh.

"Then why did you stop me?"

"I want but not here."

"Why? What's the matter?" She spoke getting closer to him and leaving a trail of kisses on his neck.

"Neri is here too remember?" Michael said as he let the moment roll.

"He's in the car that's parked far away from here, there's no way he can see us."

"But he might not be. Or he might need to leave for some reason and come looking for us. I won't let anyone see you like this, not when we make love. This is too intimate a moment for me to want to risk anyone seeing you." He spoke as he held her close to him and gave her a tight smile in apology.

"So this is a definite 'no' and I can't change your mind?"

"Not here, honey." He said as he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Wait until we get home." Home. Their apartment. It was your home too. Michael's home.

Michael gently rubbed his nose over Grace's face and showered her with soft kisses, which soon brought a smile to her face and she surrendered to his charms again.

She remembered that after that moment, the two began to dance softly, there was no music but that didn't matter to them. Michael had one hand on her back while the other held her hand. He held her so tightly, it seemed like he would never let go and Grace, silly as she was, felt her heart flutter because she felt that at least for that moment, she was everything to him, his world.

Back to reality, Grace was crying lying on her old bed in the old room she used to occupy when she still lived with her aunt. She felt so empty now that she had left Michael. She didn't know how she was going to move on now that she'd left him. He was everything to Grace and she had no idea how to live without him anymore.

She rolled over, determined to get at least a few hours of sleep. She had a trip to make and needed to be minimally well for it. Grace knew she couldn't spend much time in San Francisco, it would be the first place outside of Nevada that Michael would look for her and she didn't want him to find her. If she saw him one more time, if she heard his voice and smelled him… she knew she would be back home with him in the same minute and she couldn't. It couldn't when Michael had a wife pregnant with their third child and she was always going to be the other woman. The next morning Grace was going to catch a bus to Wisconsin. Her aunt had insisted on paying her plane tickets but Grace had flatly refused, Michael would find her in a heartbeat if he tried to trace her name. Anyway, it was all set, Grace was going to stay with an old friend of her aunt Maureen's and rebuild her life without Michael in it. Her little fairy tale, her sweet illusion, had come to an end.

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Michael crossed the threshold and knew immediately that Grace wasn't home. The reason was simple, the apartment was quiet and Grace, when she was home, always had a record playing or the radio on. She loved music and even if it was in a low key, in their apartment she was always playing a soft melody. Michael remembered several times he'd arrived at the apartment and found her humming along to whatever song was playing on the radio while she cooked in the kitchen. Grace mainly liked to cook sweets and Michael soon found himself a big fan of cakes in general. His favorite was the lemon cake she made, it reminded him of Sicily, the coast and the freshness of calmer, milder days. He wanted to take Grace there one day, so she could see the beauties of her father's homeland, the land that gave Michael's last name.

He sat on the couch, wanting to be visible so she would see him as soon as he entered their apartment. Michael smiled slightly at the thought, their apartment, he already thought of him and Grace as one, although that wasn't entirely true as Michael was still legally bound to another woman by marriage. He found it curious the way he felt connected to Grace, the connection that existed between them made him feel like he had never felt before, he felt that she was "the one", but Michael felt lost about it, something that rarely happened in his life. He felt lost because in the first place this was not what his father had taught him.

His father had always set the example of a faithful and respectful marriage, he never betrayed his mother, for Vito there was only his wife and children, his family was the most precious asset. Of Vito Corleone's sons, everyone thought Michael was the only one who had come out like his father, faithful and tied the only woman to death. But, time proved otherwise for Michael, he had been hasty in marrying Kay after returning to the US, he liked her but didn't love her enough to spend the rest of his life with her, and Kay's inability to understand and accept the Sicilian way, their way of life and business, created an insurmountable barrier between them. Of course, that was no justification for betrayal, but that was the way things were between the two of them.

After meeting Grace and falling head over heels in love with her, Michael began to consider something he had denied at the beginning of his relationship with the girl, a divorce with Kay. He was trying to put the matter off, he wanted to find a quiet way to do it all, an amicable divorce without major scandals, he didn't want his family name in any kind of vicious gossip. He didn't want to tarnish the Corleone family's reputation, didn't want to expose Kay, his children, and himself. Above all, he didn't want to expose Grace to malicious comments, he knew that depending on how things turned out, it wouldn't be hard for people to realize that his relationship with her started while he was still married to Kay and Michael didn't want to take the risk that Grace to be seen as some whore who stole someone's husband because she was absolutely none of that.

If anyone was to blame for anything, it was Michael and he knew it himself. But the heart wants what it wants, and his heart desperately wanted Grace, needed her to live. He loved her as he had never loved a woman in his life, and he was ready to tell her that and to tell her of his plans to divorce Kay when he received the news that he was going to be a father for the third time. The news tasted bittersweet, he felt happy because he'd always wanted to have a big family, lots of Sicilian-style kids, and he felt a little sad because now, more than ever, he couldn't divorce Kay. Not in his worst nightmares would he commit the atrocity of divorcing his pregnant wife and that was not just because of the comments they would make about them, but also because of his honor as a man, husband and father. It was out of the question for Michael to be a scoundrel who leaves a pregnant woman.

So he put aside plans for a divorce and didn't tell Grace that he loved her more than anything in the world, nor did he tell her that he was going to be a father again. Michael just didn't know how to break this news to her, knew she wouldn't react well because she loved him and wanted him for her. He knew that Grace dreamed of a family, she loved children, but she would never have an illegitimate child and Michael couldn't give her more than that. He, thinking he wouldn't bring more pain and sadness into the life of the one he loved most, decided that he wouldn't tell her, at least for now, about Kay's pregnancy.

Michael's thoughts wandered to a memory that always made him happy, the first time he tasted the lemon cake she'd made. Grace had made a lot of suspense around which cake she had made, he knew it would be a new flavor and that she was eager for him to taste it, Grace wanted to please him and do domestic things to make him feel at home. He didn't care all that much about these things, but he appreciated her effort and really liked the things she cooked, especially her cakes, even though he couldn't eat much of it. She served him a slice of the cake that, by this point, he had already discovered was lemon.

"Lemon?" He asked as he picked up his fork to help himself.

"Yes, I thought it would be nice to bring in some of your Sicilian roots." Grace responded with a playful smile.

"You know, I was born here in the States." In response to this statement, Michael received a smack on the arm with the dish towel.

"Eat before it gets cold, I want to know what you think."

Michael took a piece of the cake to his mouth and from that moment on, Grace's lemon cake had become his favorite. It was simply the best he had ever eaten in his entire life.

"Mmm." Michael moaned in satisfaction. "This is simply the best thing I've ever eaten in my life. I loved it, honey."

"Really? Did you really like it? You're not just saying that to please me, are you?"

"Of course not, you should give yourself more credit, the cake is just delicious, the best lemon cake I've ever had in my life. You have fairy hands. You could work with that, it would be very successful."

"Is that a suggestion?"

"No way. I like having you all to myself and knowing that I'm the one to taste all your cakes and any other food you decide to make." He spoke as he hugged her waist and brought her to him. "I love these little moments between the two of us, I really appreciate everything you do for me, it makes my life easier. I adore you, Grace. My life is better since you arrived, my dear Grace."

Michael cupped her face and kissed her urgently as he slowly pushed them both backwards until her body touched the kitchen table. Once they reached the table, Michael was separated from Grace for just a few seconds, enough to lift the girl's body and place her on the table. He knew her and knew that sometimes she liked to be surprised and to have sex somewhere other than her bedroom. Michael unbuttoned the front buttons of her dress as he planted kisses down her neck, which made her moan softly and grip his shirt tightly.

When they were at home, relaxing, Grace often wore little underwear and that was the case here. When he opened her dress, her breasts soon showed, since she wasn't wearing a bra. Michael felt the excitement coursing through his entire body, he loved her, he loved her body and he loved knowing that she was his and only his and no one else's. He decided to be a little mean, wanted to hear her moaning his name out loud and begging for him. So he took the nipple of one of her breasts and gave a light pinch, which made her squirm in pleasure and let out a murmur.

Michael, still holding her breast, whispered in her ear, "I want you to be my little whore today, I want to hear you moan my name out loud. I want everyone to know that you're mine, got it?"

She nodded 'yes' and flashed the most naughty smile Michael had ever seen on her face, which drove him crazy. He wanted to fuck her until they couldn't take it anymore.

They kissed again and soon got rid of the remaining pieces of clothing. They felt an urgency that could only be quenched after they had each other. That night, they had rough sex that started at the kitchen table and then spread to other furniture and rooms. Fast, strong, hot and highly addictive, it was like that until they got tired and went to bed where they made slow, sweet love before falling asleep clinging as one. They belonged together in every way.

The memory faded from Michael's thoughts, that had been a happy day. In fact, every day with Grace was happy, she made him happy by simply existing. The smile, the look, the little things that made her who she was, it all made Michael happy, knowing that he existed in the same world as her and that she was his and his alone.

Michael started to get restless with Grace's delay, he didn't care when she left but he liked having her for as long as possible. Besides, Grace was taking too long to get home. Restless, he decided to leave the book he had bought on the sofa and go look at their apartment, sometimes he feared for the worst, that she would be somehow involved in his business at the hands of his enemies. But Michael found the apartment as usual, nothing seemed out of place, except for a piece of dress that poked out of the wardrobe, as happens when someone closes the door in a hurry. He walked over to the wardrobe where Grace's clothes were and opened it only to be surprised, significant amounts of her clothes were gone. He then went through all the drawers, closets and dressers and discovered the same, all the places where Grace's things were messed up, clothes and personal effects were gone, while other things were left behind.

Michael, surprisingly nervous, went downstairs to get Neri to look around the apartment and then get his men to find Grace as quickly as possible. Michael feared the worst, thought that maybe someone from the other families had found out about Grace and kidnapped her or worse, feared they would use her to get revenge on him, feared that she would pay for the mistakes and crimes he committed and ordered.

As soon as Al Neri walked into the apartment, he knew this wasn't a kidnapping case. The girl certainly must have left on her own, there wasn't an object out of place, apart from the clothes and personal items drawers that looked like they had been rummaged around by someone who had packed her bags in a hurry. There were no signs of a break-in and no signs of a struggle, nothing broken or overturned, and the woman's suitcase was gone. In a corner on the floor, next to a window that was half open, the security guard spotted a white letter envelope that must have blown away on account of the wind, as soon as he picked it up he saw that it had the name of Mr. Corleone.

"Sir, I believe this is for you." Said the man as he handed the envelope into Michael's hands and walked out of the room to give him privacy.

Michael took the envelope and opened it quickly finding only a sheet of paper inside that contained only a few words.

Don't worry about me, I'm fine and safe. Please don't look for me anymore, I can't go on like this, I can't be with you anymore. Goodbye, Michael.

Michael sat stunned on the bed, had she left him? So suddenly, without there being any reason or explanation? Without even saying goodbye. Michael, with tears in his eyes, looked at the window in front of him, he felt lost, he didn't know what to do. Had he lost her forever? Had Grace just left because he hadn't shown up the other night? He didn't know what to think, much less what to feel. For the first time in years Michael allowed himself to cry, tears streaming down his face as he stared straight ahead as a whirlwind of thoughts hit him all at once. He lost the woman he loved, the love of his life, for being a coward and not choosing her when he had the chance.

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