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bbeboppp · 6 months ago

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Not a hope in hell | Part IV

𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗙𝗢𝗨𝗥; Stone on the Road

A/N: Sorry I update slowly. Also I'm gonna try include some angst because I haven't yet.

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❝ Don't say you need me when, you leave and you leave again ❞ Pretty When you Cry, Lana del Rey

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THIRD PERSON'S POV:

December 12th, 1971. 03:44 AM

Bobby hadn't shown up to work for a few days. He hadn't been seen home either, or by anyone in Café Verde.

Another soul, lost to the streets. That was the main image he portrayed. Nobody in the half-way house knew him by his name, and they wouldn't care to either. He didn't try socialise with any of them, if they fell back into the life they might pull him back too. Bobby didn't think he'd be tempted so easily, and didn't think he'd go back to his old ways in his own. At least if someone he knew walked past him & they got chatting, he could blame them.

Maybe it was loneliness that drove him so far from the right road. He was getting less casual with the waitress from across the road, but the more he thought about that blooming relationship the more he felt as if he was going to turn into a burden for her, like a tumour or a parasite. Bobby wasn't a ridiculously prideful character, but he was a shameful one.

He didn't know what time it was. Bobby was lying on the floor, in a cold apartment room. He had just woken up, and was covered in a cold sweat, as if he was fevered. As he came to his senses, his heartbeat steadied, and he wiped the sweat from his upper lip. He had passed out on the floor, and his inner arm veins were cut by track marks, viciously fresh. To his left, on a mold infested mattress someone too was passed out, being hugged by another, also gone. Their mouths were open, then limbs limp and their clothes smelling of god knows what. The walls were falling to bits, and there was murmuring coming from another room.

Bobby sat up, rubbing his eyes. He must've been passed out for a while, he didn't remember it being dark when he conked out; although he didn't remember anything at all about when he lost consciousness.

This was it, as if he'd never gone to jail, or tried turn his life around, he was back here. The warm embrace of heroin was the only embrace he'd ever really felt, and this was where he stooped to to be held by it.

He looked at the two passed out on the bed beside him. They were sleeping peacefully, holding each other loosely. He wondered where Kitty was, if she was in this apartment complex or another nearby. This was close to Chico's turf, if she was anywhere she'd be around here. He got her into this world, and then disappeared. The complete opposite of a saving grace, he wondered if he even deserved a second chance after that scenario.

Bobby stood up, feeling dizzy, he needed water. Stumbling around the semi-familiar apartment, he found his way to the kitchen and lowered his head to drink water straight from the tap. It was probably contaminated or some shit; this was New York; but he couldn't care less.

As he wiped the excess water from his lips, Bobby looked around for the door. He wanted to leave. Post-high clarity, he decided the people who let him lie on the floor unconscious weren't the best to be around. They never had been, and they never will be.

The hallway was colder, and so was the stairway down. It was as if the further he got from his source of a high the colder t he world around him got.

As he stepped out onto the street, a cold chill bit him. It was night time, and would be so easy to slip back inside and go back up to the room and shoot up again, to warm himself in the cold December night.

Something kept him pushing, and he shut the door behind him, stepping down the steps of the complex onto the street. He stumbled a little, and shivered dramatically as he was met with the elements of the open street.

A dog barking, old ladies sitting on low balconies gossiping, hustlers, solicitors, begging hands, footprints in the snow, rumbling engines from vehicles on the roads, the smell of hash as he turned the corner and the general smell of well; rubbish. All of Bobby's senses were being attacked as he walked down the street. His nostrils stung from the cold winter air & the smells creeping up from the sewer, his eyes stung in the cold too, and he blinked hard to stop them from going blurry.

Cold. It crept in, seeping into his bones, it stung his nose and eyes, and made him purse his lips so they wouldn't crack in the low temperatures. He thought of somewhere to go.

The half-way house took him forty minutes to reach. By then, his hands had frozen and he was balling them up in his fists as he slinked up the steps stiffly. The door didn't budge; he huffed under his breath, remembering their strict rule of all doors locked after the 1am curfew, to try prevent suspicious activities and relapses.

So now what, he couldn't go home, not that the half-way shitbox was home anyway. That's what it was, a shitbox.

Leaning against the railing, Bobby looked out onto the street, seeing Café Verde closed. He remembered y/n again, her shy smile and twinkling eyes.

05:16 AM

Y/N'S/3RD PERSON POV: (because I fucking switched halfway through oops).

My buzzer rang. I didn't hear it the first time, the second or the third. By the fourth time, I had just groggily awoken.

I looked through my open bedroom door into my hallway, looking at the phone on the wall as a little light beside it flashed. I wasn't expecting visitor's, and definitely not at- what time was it?

The clock on my bedside table read 5 AM. What a joke, must just be someone coming home late drunk trying to get in who forgot their keys. It rang again, impatiently. Something in me was compelled to answer it, like a gut feeling. Heaving out of bed, I walked into the hallway, picking up the phone connecting to the buzzer.

"Hello?"

"Y/n..?" A familiar accent answered back.

"Yeah."

"I uhh.." I heard shuffling on the other line, as if he was coming up with an excuse on the spot.

"I was out with friends, we were out in bars and pubs n' all til late, I'm far from home n' I was just wonderi-"

"You wanna come in?"

A silence was held, a quiet buzz on the line was all that told y/n they were still connected.

"If you're not busy or.. Anything, y'know."

Y/n laughed under her breath. She was busy sleeping, but she'd usually get up in another hour or so anyways so she was up for good now.

"5FA, be quiet going up the stairs, the elevator is getting repairs done."

"See you." Bobby put down the phone, & I pressed the button to open the door to the building.

Four minutes later, an exhausted man showed up at my door. He was in clothes that.. smelled, and his hair looked roughed up. He looked drained in general.

"I haven't seen you in a while, what happened?" I breathed, stepping aside from the open door to let him in.

Bobby's face twisted into one of guilt and awkwardness. He winced, inhaling as he thought up of another excuse.

"Family emergency. Rather not get into details."

Y/n bit her lip, looking down as she thought. She didn't want to be nosy, but who get's back from a family event looking like they haven't showered or slept for a year?

"If you wanna freshen up, the bathrooms down the hall on the left." She offered, pointing vaguely.

"Thanks, really." In the dim lighting of the apartment, his brown eyes seemed so soft, they looked into hers as he displayed signs of pure appreciation.

"I'll get you a towel." She said, walking back to her room to look through her drawers for one. Knowing he didn't have a second change on him, Y/n opened up the very bottom drawer. Everything she despised but couldn't bring herself to throw out or something similar was all piled up inside; to same some, her ex's clothes.

She picked out an off-white vest & pair of dark jeans. They smelled of the man's cologne, even though they'd been through the wash several times.

She stacked the folded clothing on top of a towel and handed it to Bobby who was standing in front of the shower, trying to figure out the nozzle heads.

"Turn that clockwise to turn the water on, turn that one anti-clockwise to turn up the pressure, and that one clockwise to change the temperature."

"I didn't pick up any of that." Bobby casually spoke, twisting the nozzles for himself; he didn't do well with spoken instructions.

"Just- whatever. Come out whenever you're done." Y/n sighed, leaving.

"What did you think I was gonna do when I was done, stay in here til I starved?" Bobby humoured, but got no reaction from Y/n.

She didn't feel so appreciated, and slightly resented Bobby for being so casually able to waltz in her home after basically ghosting her for the best part of a week. She wanted an explanation, for him to leave the bathroom and burst into a monologue, perfectly explaining everything.

When Bobby left the room, it was visible a little bit of life had come back into him. His skin looked cleaner, his hair no longer greasy. And that god awful smell, almost eradicated.

"Thanks for the spare pair of clothes, they your old man's?" He asked casually, dumping his worn clothes in the corner of the room.

"Uh, yeah." Y/n shrugged. She was sitting on the edge of her bed, sleep pecking at her head. Something the girl struggled with was getting to sleep early enough to wake up early enough. Her mother used to say she was nocturnal, always staying up late and not emerging from her room til it hit around 2pm. The only proven method she'd found of getting early sleep was either to completely exhaust herself during the day or do one all nighter, making the next night easy to sleep.

"I can't thank you enough, I really needed a pitstop." He yawned, leaning his hip on the side of the bed frame.

Y/n's face crumpled up. That's what she was? A pitstop? A pitstop between what and what? She wanted to be angry, but was too full of sadness.

"That's what I am? A pitstop?" Her voice wobbled, she looked at Bobby with teary eyes, feeling a little hurt.

"Oh, no. No, no I didn't mean it like that y'know baby." He lowered the tone of his voice, tilting his head as he bent lower to get his face level to hers as she sat on the edge of the bed.

"I was just jokin', sorry, I don't take much of anythin' seriously, not th-"

"You don't even take me seriously? After-" Maybe it was laughable that she was asking a man who'd known her for less than a week if he was serious, but the wave of sadness washing over her brain brought the question to the surface.

Bobby kissed her lips. Her eyes widened, before she closed them too and melted into the kiss. He had hold either side of Y/n's face, holding it softly, not wanting to leave any bruises on her soft skin. He tasted like cigarettes and smelt of them too. Even though he was wearing totally different clothes, the smell must've been etched onto his skin like a tattoo. Their lips stayed connected for a long moment, before he pulled away.

"I don't take much of anythin' seriously, not that i don't appreciate you doing this for me." He finished his sentence he was cut off from.

Y/n looked at him, her eyes wide, lips slightly apart.

"Fuck, sorry." Bobby began to inch away before Y/n wrapped her arms around his neck, almost throwing herself at him as they kissed again. Bobby smiled into the kiss, holding onto the curves of her hips.

Y/n began to root through his freshly washed hair with her hands. It had only been towel dried, and was still damp. She massaged the back of his skull, which made a low groan roll from the back of Bobby's throat, one neither of them really predicted. He gripped her hips tighter, tilting his head as he kissed her deeper.

Standing at the bottom end of Y/n's bed, Y/n was slowly backed down onto the soft blanket lying on top of the mattress. Bobby's elbows rested either side of her torso as he massaged her hips & thighs. Y/n was ecstatic. She hadn't been caressed in a long while, and every time Bobby exhaled warm breath onto her face or felt his cold hands touching her warm skin her heart skipped a beat.

Y/n's hands travelled from his hair to his chest, her fingers guiding themselves over his collarbones and muscles, she almost giggled like a school girl looking at a poster of her boy-band celebrity crush as she felt his lean build. They travelled lower, but as soon as one reached Bobby's belt a hand reached down to stop it.

They parted lips, both slightly more out of breath than before, she looking into his eyes, perplexed. He looked back at hers, almost confused why he stopped himself.

"Not like this." He whispered softly, letting go of her hand and stroking her cheek as he propped himself up with the other arm.

Y/n's brows furrowed. She hadn't been intimate in months, maybe even close to a year, and this is what she gets? Edged? Teased?

"Please." She whispered into his ear, taking his jaw tenderly in both her hands, cupping it as she rubbed circles with her thumbs.

"No, I don't want to rush things." Bobby placed a hand over her, inadvertently turning her on when she felt how much bigger his hand was.

"But I do." She whined, sliding her hand out from under his to squeeze his hand. Bobby huffed a laugh, then frowned a little when he still felt her squeezing his hand, not letting go as she stared up at his face hovering above her. He clenched his jaw, biting his tongue to stop himself talking. He stared back at her, contemplating if sex this early on in their relationship would ruin it.

Still holding onto his hand, Y/n released her grasp a little. "But if you don't want to, I get it." She eased, still massaging one side of his face with her free hand. Bobby tilted his head, pushing into the massage as he closed his eyes, enjoying it.

"I don't want to ruin anything, I really do adore you, I don't want you to think this is all I want." He spoke gently, opening his eyes to become half-lidded ones. When he looked down at Y/n and met her too half-lidded eyes, he was contemplating again.

"Don't tease me just by coming this far." She whispered dangerously, creating extreme tension with the eye contact the two were holding. She looked up at him through her lashes, blinking slowly as her chest heaved with every breath, entrancing Bobby.

His dimples showed up as a smirk slid onto his features. She was good, almost too good. Bobby freed his hand from Y/n's, and took it to kiss her fingers caringly.

"Alright then."

Bobby lowered his face to her neck, pecking it with kisses. She arched her back instinctively as she put her arms around his neck once again. She tilted her head to the side so half of it was resting on a pillow. She melted into the soft bed underneath them, breathing deeply into her lungs as she took in every sip of pleasure. Bobby's hands travelled to her shoulders, plucking at the string vest resting on them. She reached down to the brim of her night shirt, pulling it over her head, revealing the whole of her upper torso. One thing Y/n forgot about sex was how vulnerable it made you feel, especially when you became undressed before your partner.

Thankfully Bobby was quick to follow, pulling his vest he had only just put on over his head as well. The skin to skin contact between their chests felt so good, it was simply exciting. Bobby's lips moving from her neck to her collarbone and the area above it, where he began sucking the skin.

The more sounds Y/n made, the hungrier Bobby became. He too had forgotten what kinds of audios can make a man mad, and the two progressed further, turning each other on step by step.

After a couple minutes of foreplay, Y/n lowered her hand down again, to his jeans. This time he didn't stop her. She could feel something poking against her leg, and her heart beat faster as she unbuckled his belt with one hand, then unbuttoned the top button. Bobby pulled his jeans down, then his boxers. He propped himself up on the opposite arm, giving the other one a break as he used that arm to place a hand on the low of her back. He used to other to pull down her pajama pants, which came off without much of a struggle.

Pausing, the two locked eyes again.

"You still sure?" Bobby breathed, now resting his free arm on the side of her hip.

"Yes." Y/n whispered, her knees resting either side of Bobby's legs.

"You sure?" He spoke quietly, staring at Y/n's face as she closed her eyes.

"Mhmph."

"You sure sure?"

"God stop messing around Bobby." Y/n's eyes flew open, a scolding expression on her face. He had on an arrogant smile, and giggling at himself a little under his breath.

As he went in, Y/n's chest lifted as she inhaled, drawing in a sharp oh. He carefully held the small of her back and the side of her hip, staring at her face as he looked to see what kind of faces she'd make. "You're beautiful." He breathed, staring at her whole underneath him.

"Mmmnnggghh, nhh, tthhankss." She arched her back higher, intertwining her own legs with his. Bobby moved both of his hands to her hips, holding them to make it easier to move in and out for him. Her legs were now wrapped around his hips, locking him into the position.

Bobby exhaled a small laugh from his nose, dimples popping up as he smiled at her. Her hair was all over, some rogue strands throwing themselves over her face. His smile slowly faded, as he began focusing on his rhythm & pace. He'd grip her hips tighter as he went in & out. It was now that he realised he'd had to pull out soon. He grinned softly at the thought that they were just so entranced by each other neither thought of protection; too impatient and excited.

Y/n was in a world of her own, she'd flutter her eyes open & shut, occasionally planting kissed on Bobby when his head dipped low enough for that to happen.

"Bobby," Y/n gasped, holding one hand on his shoulder, the other pressing against his pec. "I'm close."

He smiled with satisfaction, seeing Y/n a squirming, aroused mess below him, "Me too, baby," he'd lean down to kiss her on her forehead, and she felt his lips curled into a smile against her skin. Between each syllable they spoke to each other they panted; all they could get out between each gasp for air was a syllable anyway, anymore and they'd exhaust themselves.

Finally, with a pleasure filled moan, Y/n arched her back one last time, feeling a whole body reaction. Bobby was close behind, quickly pulling out.

He collapsed onto Y/n, the two heaving to catch their breath in the otherwise silent room. Bobby's head rested in between Y/n's breasts, pecking them with kisses, his hands letting go of her hips; one slinking herself her back to hold her body to him while the other reaching up to rub her shoulder & all along the upper bit of her arm.

She'd kiss the crown of his head, one arm resting on his back as the other cradled his jaw, her fingers running up & down his jaw & cheek in a gentle caress. Y/n moved her hand after a while to hug Bobby around his neck.

Lying there with Bobby on her chest, Y/n matched the rhythm of her breathing to his. They lay there in silence, Bobby's eyes closed with Y/n's half-lidded. With one delicate finger, she traced the outline of the muscles on his back, then his shoulder blades, then moving down his arm, to his elbow. In the dim, very early morning light, Y/n could almost make out the track marks on the inside of his arm. He pulled his arm tighter to his side, obstructing her view.

God, please don't ruin this moment.

Now Y/n knew. She already had her doubts about this whole family emergency, but now she knew. Bobby was an addict, likely to heroin, the biggest thing in New York City right now. Instead of gasping, grabbing his arm to inspect it, shouting, or any other sort of confrontation, she wrapped both arms around him, bringing him in with a tight hug as she inhaled the smell of his hair. Even his hair smelt faintly of cigarettes. She closed her eyes in his embrace, as Bobby opened his.

He wasn't sure if she had seen his track marks or not, and wasn't sure what the close embrace was for. He blindly hugged her back, why wouldn't he.

Bobby closed his eyes again, now snaking both his arms underneath the dip in her back, clinging onto Y/n as he fell into what the best rest of his life was. He had been tired for all five of the days he went missing, and now was his chance to rest.

Maybe he deserved it, finally resting against a woman's skin in a clean, safe home. It was the quietest apartment he'd ever been in. Not that the complex was high-end, but it must've been filled with retired folk & mutes for a silence this strong to linger.

On the other hand, Y/n was contemplating whether or not she should ask Bobby about his arms. It was clear the five day disappearance must've been a relapse, she knew he came from the half-way house across the street. It didn't bother her though, and she wanted Bobby to know that. As long as he'd love her and stay clean he could come back and lay here with her.

"Bobby..?" The silence was broken by Y/n's soft voice.

He didn't respond, Y/n assumed at first he had fallen asleep, but then groggily, a "Hm?" grumbled against her bare chest skin.

She bit her lip, stroking his hair with a hand distractingly as she thought of how to word what she wanted to say.

"I love you." She began,

"I love you too." Bobby sleepily pressed a kiss against her breast, snuggling up closer to her.

"And I love you for you. As in, who you are." She continued, pausing to see if he had anything more to say. His brain activity paused, then continued as he realised that she did indeed see his track marks.

"I don't care about your past, or your dark moments, I think you're a really lovely guy." She faintly whispered close to his ear. Bobby stared straight ahead, at the wall, his eyes guarded, his thoughts inside unguessable. "I love you." She repeated.

The room was silent. Y/n bit her lip again, wondering if she should have ever bothered talking to him. Maybe he didn't want to talk at all, she was just bothering the man that wanted something casual, and didn't want to change for love. Then, she felt wet on her chest. She frowned a little, before realising what it was. Bobby was crying. Then, it all came crashing down, his body began shivering, his breaths staggering as he tried control them, more tears falling down on her skin.

He opened his mouth, wanting to say something back. What was there to explain? No I promise I'm not a junkie baby those 5 days I disappeared were nothing? It all happened so fast, the last thing he expected was to be crying into the arms of a stranger.

Y/n kissed the top of his head again, reassuringly caressing his scalp & holding his back too.

He buried his face in her, balling up his a hand then using the bottom of his palm to push away the tears. He went to do it again, but y/n's caressing soothed his too much, like a baby being given a pacifier, he fell back down onto her chest again, letting the air dry his tears instead of angrily pushing them away.

With one arm still around the dip in her back, he used to other one to reach up and hold Y/n's arm which was resting around his neck, as if to say don't stop holding me.

Y/n's struggled a little, but managed to pull the bedsheets crumpled up at the side over her & the now sleeping man on her chest. She held him close like he was a delicate china plate that would chip and crack if she ever let go.

Bobby fell into a deep sleep. The embrace he was in was nothing he ever felt before. It was warmer than heroin, something he never wanted to lose. Maybe that was a dramatic statement to think or feel, but he was hooked.

END OF CHAPTER

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Word count: 4.3k

#al pacino #new york #pacino #70s #the panic in needle park #the panic in needle park fic #al pacino fic #al pacino fanfic #angst with a happy ending

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chicaboom-chic · 8 months ago

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Can j request an al pacino imagine?

Hey, yeah. 🗣️🗣️🗣️Sorry it took so long to reply. Quick rule though: No scat, no Non Con

Side note: Any one can request an imagine

#al pacino x reader #al pacino movies #al pacino fanfic

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melis-writes · 1 month ago

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The Other Woman [Michael Corleone x Reader Multichapter, 18+ Smut] Chapter 6 – Star-crossed.

Read on AO3 / Read Chapter 5 / Chapter Masterlist / Fanfic Playlist.

18+, explicit smut read.

"They’re the Corleones. Their name, reputation, image? Yeah, they make that shine at those galas, and they do it well—let me tell you that.” / “This is my gala, my hotel. It belongs to me, and now… so do you.”

Invited to your first, formal social outing with the Corleones, you travel to Las Vegas with the family--meeting Fredo, Deanna and experiencing the luxuries of one of the many resort-casinos the Corleones own. It's at the banquet that you come across unwanted guests, somehow tied to the Corleone family and very much your own that bring a terrifying revelation to you, now questioning how the Corleone family you know could have criminal ties. Under Michael's protection and reassurance, you find that to not be your only surprise for tonight, claimed by your darkest fantasy, Michael's neediness and his demand to have you all to himself tonight behind his family's back for the first time.

[WARNINGS]: Loss of virginity, oral sex, vaginal sex, heavy touching/fondling, cheating/affairs.

[CHAPTER REQUESTS]: Michael getting jealous of Marina / Michael and Marina share an intimate moment gazing into each other's eyes @nomorekerkanymor / Soft Michael putting jewelry on Marina / Michael calling Marina pet names / A man puts moves on Marina before Michael confesses his desires to her and Michael gives Marina a subtle, possessive claiming lecture in his office.

[AUTHOR'S NOTE]: The 6th chapter of The Other Woman is FINALLY here!! 🙂‍↕️😋 After such a long hiatus which was the result of an everchanging, busy life schedule and a lot of writer's block, I promised and I delivered! 44 pages or 18.6k words and the delicious, hot and heavy, scandalous first sex scene to top it all of finally in here to break the ice and that sexual tension I built up between Michael and Marina for so long. 🥵 Beyond thrilled to share this chapter with you guys as things are definitely changing in The Other Woman and going to get even more dramatic and smut filled!

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.

Lake Tahoe Compound.

Standing just shy of the morning sunlight shining through the bedroom window, Michael Corleone’s eyes are fixated out on the compound as his fingers work to tie a silk, black tie; having changed into his Diupiani grey, silk suit after breakfast with everyone in the courtyard of his and Kay’s estate.

The remainder of this Friday morning will be dedicated to everyone preparing for the gala in Las Vegas tonight until the return to Lake Tahoe on Saturday afternoon.

Michael has no particular feelings about the gala; only that he anticipates nothing but business and the opportunity against his will to see many of his business colleagues get intoxicated and handsy with cocktail waitresses as Michael and Tom run their numbers and strictly remain on topics of work and business.

The gala is nothing but another obligation to Michael, and as one of the most influential men in Nevada, he has very few excuses to make for an absence.

Michael knows he might be more or less inclined to enjoy the evening so long as you and Kay do, but your presence there alone will keep things interesting enough for Michael. Perhaps seeing you—someone not obligated to bore themselves to death with fluffy, wealth-induced talks at galas—but there to enjoy the luxuries the evening has to offer will impact Michael’s perspective.

Nonetheless, the Corleone family—let alone Michael himself—has much to be proud of at the gala, as it’s been hosted in the very casino resort that used to belong to Moe Greene. Used to.

It remains the first casino resort Michael directly invested and sought ownership over and has been under Corleone control for seven years, thriving and flourishing as one of the biggest sources of revenue from hospitality to the Corleone family.

You’ve yet to truly see all the wealth and influence the Corleone family maintains, but it benefits you by giving you peace of mind as you know they aren’t blatant criminals like the mafia families you’ve previously worked for.

Part of Michael’s only true entertainment tonight at the gala may just be watching how your eyes light up when you enter the casino resort. Michael will have impressed you immensely just by that already and without even lifting his finger—something you’ll come to understand Michael Corleone does very often.

Just as you’ll be in Michael’s presence and line of sight at the gala tonight, you’re in his view now. Michael gazes at you from his bedroom window; his curtains pulled back just enough to gaze outside but guard his privacy and hide that his eyes are now fixated only on you.

Michael’s compound bodyguards and some buttonmen gather by the gazebo not far from you, smoking cigarettes over quiet conversation. Tom is over by the docks, teaching his son Frank how to play fetch with their dog, and yet from all the action occurring from his line of view, you’re all that Michael gazes upon.

You’re by the Corleone estate’s front lawn with little Mary, carrying a wicker basket filled with a variety of wilted or crushed flowers—caused by Tom’s dog by accident. You agreed to help Mary collect them to clean up the garden after breakfast, happily tagging along together with a basket almost filled to the brim with old flowers.

“Almost full,” you chuckle, giving the basket a little shake.

“Do you think we could keep them?” Mary peeks at you, smiling innocently at the basket of flowers in your hand. “We don’t have to throw them away, right?”

“No, of course not,” you reply with a smile, extending out the basket to Mary for a better look. “We can still keep them.”

“Hmm,” a frown crosses over Mary’s lips as she looks inside the basket to see the crushed petals mixing in with other wilted flowers.

“We can still make do,” you offer, “have you ever made jewelry with dried flower petals?”

“You can do that?” Mary’s eyes light up with sudden excitement, causing you to laugh.

“If we have all the tools we need, we can both do it together,” you nod at her, “lots to do with these pretty flowers, even if they’re wilted or crushed. See—” you gently scoop up some of the flowers with your hand, rubbing your thumb over the dried out petals. “They’re not so bad. We can even press them between books or make crafts with them—no worries at all.”

“Wow,” Mary giggles, giving a little excited jump. “Okay! I have more—”

Before Mary can continue, you both hear Esther’s voice calling out from the other end of the Corleone estate. “Mary! Your mother would like to see you!”

“Oh!” Mary turns around to the sound of Esther’s voice before glancing back at you.

“Go on,” you beckon, smiling warmly at her. “Gala today, maybe it’s packing time?”

“I think so,” Mary lets out a quiet giggle. “Okay, I’ll be back soon, Miss Marina! We need to keep those flowers safe!”

“I definitely will, you can trust me!” You wave her off, holding the basket close to your chest.

Nodding, Mary happily skips off back towards the other end of the estate, leaving you alone in Michael’s line of vision.

Observing your interaction with his daughter, Michael’s eyes now trail down your body from head to toe; focused on your lavender shirtwaist dress and black Mary-Jane shoes.

He watches as you take a half-crushed red rose from your flower basket and take in the scent of the flower still lingering and strong.

You glance up momentarily to see Tom’s dog sprinting at full speed after Frank—laughter erupting from over by the docs as you run your fingers through the damaged petals of the rose.

The softness of the petals strikes a brief thought eagerly wandering into your mind from last night’s session with yourself as to the thought of Michael’s hands running over your skin instead; treating you as delicately as you treat the petals—admiring you.

You picture Michael gently tilting your chin to face him, tracing the shape of your lips with his finger before caressing your cheek.

Michael’s free hand would run down from your collarbone to your hardened nipple before he’d rub it between his thumb, watching your eyes for a reaction and listening to a soft whimper exhale from you.

Still caressing over your jawline, Michael would lower his hand down to your inner thighs, scouring them and feeling your soft, warm skin against his hand.

You know Michael would much rather have you alone in his office; your one thigh propped up over his shoulder and his fingers toying with your wet slit more than anything else.

Michael hears Kay’s footsteps beginning to approach the bedroom but he doesn’t divert his attention off of you until he hears Kay’s voice speaking to him.

“The children are almost ready to go,” Kay exhales, seemingly out of breath but in a rather cheerful mood.

Michael tightens his tie, nodding and turning around to face his wife. “How do you feel?” He slowly begins to approach her from behind as Kay sets an empty piece of luggage on the corner of their bed.

“Almost exhausted, almost.” Kay lets out a deep breath as Michael embraces her from behind.

“Almost,” Michael repeats.

“Mm,” Kay begins to blush at her husband’s touch, placing her hands over the top of Michael’s on her little baby bump. “But still excited more than anything. How on earth did you convince Connie to come along with us?” She glances over her shoulder back at Michael.

“You’d have a harder time convincing Mama more than Connie now,” Michael replies.

“Oh, true,” Kay lets out a soft laugh as Michael pecks a kiss over her cheek.

“Looking forward to it?” He asks.

“I definitely am,” Kay beams back, “and Marina’s coming along too. It’ll be something new for everyone and especially for her to look forward to.”

“Mhmm,” Michael’s eyes find the window again, noticing you beginning to walk off back to your lodgings and out of his sight.

“And speaking of,” Kay pushes a curtain of her hair behind her ear. “It was really sweet of you to invite Marina to the gala with us.”

Michael doesn’t reply back, only giving the side of Kay’s neck a gentle kiss before pulling away.

“I think she’ll slowly start getting used to them,” Kay continues.

This implies to Michael that Kay expects you to accompany the rest of the family to every social gathering and gala that you can possibly come to going forward, and Michael thinks the exact same thing.

��She might even have fun,” Kay chuckles, beginning to open up her luggage. “That poor girl.”

Michael furrows his brows, not on par with Kay’s comment.

“She’s not helpless,” he comments, moving towards his night table to grab his glass of water. “She simply isn’t used to it.”

“You’re right,” Kay nods, rethinking her words. “And you think so?”

Michael nods back, raising his water glass to his lips. “You can take tonight to get to know her better as well.

“You’re right about that,” Kay turns to face her husband, watching Michael take a long sip of his water. “We’ll see.”

Stepping back into the estate lodgings you share with Esther, you let out a soft breath and take in the peace and quiet from inside, knowing of course Esther is all too busy running around to get the children ready for the gala before she can come in and get herself ready to go too.

Having always been a proactive packer, you already have all your belongings and everything together in your luggage and start packing from the moment you were told you’d be joining the Corleones at the gala.

You’ve been adding more or taking out things as you need, but now all that’s left is to haul your luggage back outside to let Michael’s men take care of putting it in the trunk of a secure car with the rest of everyone else’s belongings.

Heading upstairs to your bedroom, you grab your suitcase placed in the corner of your room and carefully move it from leaning against the wall; using the handle to avoid the bulky heaviness as you begin to take it out into the hallway.

Just before you leave your bedroom, you take a final glance back and towards your closet door that remains ajar; more than halfway filled now with dresses, blouses, skirts, and undergarments. It wasn’t like that when you first moved into the Lake Tahoe compound and brings a sense of ease and deep appreciation for your living situation now.

Before, you must have owned about ten outfits in total with three pairs of shoes, but the paycheques the Corleone family writes for you have been nothing less than generous, and you’ve gained the financial freedom for the first time in your life to be able to buy yourself something nice without worrying about making ends meet or being racked with guilt for spoiling yourself.

‘Something to get used to,’ you smile to yourself before continuing to head downstairs to the front door. ‘All of this…’

Getting used to things also means getting used to galas and the most lavish social gatherings you know a family as prestigious and influential as the Corleones would get invited to, but you don’t know for sure if you are or aren’t an enthusiast or social butterfly if you’ve never attended one before.

For your sake, you hope that you open up more to these events and learn from them—truly be a part of the Corleone family, coming off inconspicuous as nobody would truly know the real reason why you’d want to accompany them all the time.

“Miss Alighieri,” you hear a familiar, male voice as soon as you step out of your residence’s door with your luggage in hand.

Almost startled and caught off guard, you pinpoint the voice to be one of Michael’s men—peeking up in surprise.

You look up to see Ritchie Nobilio, only remembering his first name not so much through small talk or minor interactions with him yourself but through other men referring to him as such.

You’ve personally seen Ritchie come and go through all parts of the compound as far as your eye can see, and you know he’s responsible for keeping Corleone family employees like you and Esther safe and secure on and around the compound.

“Oh, hi—” You’re surprised to see just how quick but gentle Ritchie snags your luggage out of your hands.

“Don’t trouble yourself with that,” Ritchie flashes you a charming smile. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Thank you,” you smile back, adjusting your posture.

“No problem,” gripping your luggage, Ritchie begins to head down the porch with you following behind him. “Almost ready to go?”

“I suppose so,” you glance back at your residence’s shut front door.

“First time?” Ritchie looks at you, waiting for you to catch up with him.

You follow Ritchie side by side at an appropriate distance, continuing to head down to the center of the compound with him.

“Ya know,” Ritchie continues, “with fancy galas and all that.”

“First time,” you nod, “have you ever been to one?”

“Me?” Ritchie chuckles, “Sure being security outside and taking a little peek inside sometimes counts. I don’t think it’s my thing. I like what I do—don’t get me wrong—but that’s a little bit too much. There’s a good reason why though.”

“Yeah?” You raise a brow, your curiosity rising. “Why is that?”

“They’re the Corleones,” Ritchie shrugs his shoulder, “their name, reputation, image? Yeah, they make that shine at those galas, and they do it well—let me tell you that.”

As you continue your conversation with Ritchie down to the main estates of the compound, Michael and Kay step out of their estate with Anthony and Mary scuttling by their side.

Michael directs Rocco as to which vehicle will store their luggage, and Kay gently reminds the children to be on their best behavior and use their indoor voices when speaking at the gala and on the way there.

“Keep it secure,” Michael tells Rocco sternly.

“Will do, Don Corleone,” Rocco locks up the back trunk of the Cadillac.

Kay smoothens out her dress, smiling at Michael whose eyes suddenly find you and Ritchie as the two of you begin to approach closer.

Momentarily stunned again, you’re flustered by a powerful urging attraction to Michael and desperately attempt to ignore it and remain polite while listening to what Ritchie has to say.

“If you don’t know how to dance, you’ll learn right quick,” Ritchie lets out a laugh, unaware as to how sternly Michael’s watching the two of you interacting with each other.

“I’m in for a treat then,” you giggle, diverting your attention back to Ritchie.

“You’ll wow them, no worries,” Ritchie gives you a playful wink—only surging a strike of jealousy through Michael.

“Think we’ll head to the airport in half an hour or so?” Kay asks Michael, but neither his gaze nor body language changes.

“Longer,” Michael replies, keeping his eye on you.

“Like this, maybe?” Ritchie spins around with your luggage in hand, showing off a few silly and uncoordinated dance moves that make you burst out in laughter. “Maybe this is all I picked up, but I could do a good waltz maybe!”

“Maybe?” Laughing, you genuinely find Ritchie’s actions before you hilarious.

It’s nice for you to be able to grow comfortable with Michael’s men who are responsible for employee safety and security, seeing them as much more friendly and easygoing than you originally thought.

In the moment, you’re too distracted by Ritchie to glance back at Michael, but he most definitely is not.

“See—like that!” Ritchie gently takes your hand, twirling you around with him.

With the sound of the other vehicles slowly pulling in from outside of the compound and Tom’s children screeching around chasing each other in a game of tag just across, Kay can’t hear nor does she look over in your line of sight with Ritchie like Michael does.

“Longer?” Kay asks Michael, confused.

Michael nods back, staying put but refusing to call out your name or Ritchie’s for the time being; after all, Kay’s standing right next to him.

“I have other matters to attend to before we leave,” Michael continues.

All Michael wants right now is your immediate attention, and he intends to have it one way or another.

“Oh, okay…” Kay blinks, unable to make sense of Michael’s contradiction for the travel time. “What for?”

“Just business, Kay.”

“Yep, yep,” Ritchie grins at you as he begins to pack away your luggage in the next Cadillac. “Now we got all your stuff packed in and you got to see me embarrass myself with my dancing. Pretty solid, isn’t it?”

“Right,” you giggle back, “well, thank you for that.”

“Of course,” Ritchie nods back happily. “I won’t be tagging along this time, but I still hope you, Esther, and the others enjoy yourselves in Las Vegas.”

It’s then that Michael suddenly moves from where he stands with Kay, almost as if he’s going towards his Cadillac but as you look up to the sound of footsteps growing near, your eyes widen to see that it looks like Michael’s moving directly towards you.

Your heart immediately begins to race in your chest—a hot, rosy blush spreading over your cheeks as Michael gets closer to you, but he moves to simply walk by your side instead of approaching you directly.

You gaze back at Michael with uncertainty and expectation as if he’ll speak to you, but you remain reluctant to greet him or say anything—only standing there in a blushing panic.

Michael neither stops to speak with you nor does he completely walk past without a word, but you hear him speak to you in a stern yet calm voice just as he walks by, saying, “See me in my office.”

At a loss for words, you blink and turn around to watch Michael head toward his estate without another word or glance in your direction.

Blushing furiously, you pull a curtain of your hair behind your ear and look around to see everyone preoccupied with packing and speaking with Rocco as to which vehicles will transport who to have witnessed your brief interaction with Michael.

You know you’ll all be heading out soon to the airport and you waste no time walking towards the main estate, believing whatever it is that Michael needs to speak to you about, it must be urgent; perhaps a last-minute talk about what to expect at the gala before you go.

‘Seeing Michael again…’ You obediently follow into the main estate with no hesitation, noting how utterly quiet it’s become except for the grandfather clock in the foyer.

You move towards Michael’s office, only able to hear very faint footsteps coming from inside before it goes completely silent, only reminding you once again just how soundproof it truly is in Michael’s office.

You place your hand over the doorknob of Michael’s office door and gently twist, entering the office quietly and shutting the door behind you right away.

Michael remains across from you in the office, standing in front of his desk by the coffee table—sipping a glass of water.

Michael’s eyes immediately find yours as he lowers his glass of water; expectation rising in his gaze.

“You asked to see me?” Already flustered and embarrassed, you speak out in a soft tone.

Michael says nothing, continuing to stare at you, watching how your rosy cheeks intensify with blush. His eyes flicker to the detailing of your shirtwaist dress over your chest before he meets your eyes again, “have a seat.”

Nodding, you take a seat in the same leather armchair you sat in when you met Michael formally for the first time; all the memories begin to trickle back into your mind again.

You discreetly clench your legs and sit politely, hands clasped on your lap as you watch Michael set his glass of water down on his office table; his Italian silk suit jacket hugging every muscle and shape of his figure with each movement he makes—turning you on more than you want to admit.

“How do you feel?” Michael suddenly asks you, catching you off guard.

You blink, watching as Michael turns to face you—resting both of his hands on the edges of his office table.

You think to yourself the question he just asked must be about how you feel about the gala, not you personally.

Blushing at Michael’s direct gaze and attention over you, you give a small nod. “I’m excited for the gala. A little nervous, but excited and grateful to be attending.”

“Good,” Michael reaches one hand over to the far corner of his office desk—his eyes still over yours—as he reaches for his cigarette pack, taking one cigarette out of it.

You swallow hard, watching Michael’s slim fingers wrap around the cigarette as he pulls it out of the pack. You know you’ve had far too many nights where you’ve fallen asleep after fingering yourself from one orgasm to the next—imagining those same slim fingers pumping in and out of you until your juices flowed down your thighs.

Michael takes his lighter out from his suit’s front breast pocket before speaking further with you. “I trust you find the security at the compound satisfactory.”

“Um, yes.”

Michael raises his cigarette to his lips before pausing, seemingly unimpressed by your answer. “I’m not interviewing you, Marina. I’m only asking.”

“Oh,” you breathe out, watching Michael slip his cigarette in the corner of his mouth. “Right, sorry.”

“You seemed much more carefree outside,” Michael lights his cigarette, staring back at you. “Nobilio is treating you kindly?”

“Oh, yes,” you answer, “yes, he is. It’s nice of him. I think he interacts with Esther and—”

“That’s his job,” Michael takes a long first drag out of his cigarette. “He’s known for that.” Michael blows out the smoke of his cigarette away from you, slowly beginning to walk behind your seat.

You freeze, taking in the scent of Michael’s cologne mixing in with the cigarette smoke as Michael places one hand on the back of your seat—mere inches from your shoulder. “But you can see how I find that highly inappropriate, don’t you?”

“On his behalf?” You ask, quietly.

Michael moves his hand back, coming around to sit in the leather armchair directly across from you. “You think it would be inappropriate on your behalf?” He answers your question with another question. “It’s simply inappropriate. It’s not acceptable.”

‘Is he…?’ Stunned, you can’t quite figure out why Michael feels so strongly about your interaction with Ritchie outside, but you do remember how vocal and even silly both you and Ritchie must have been acting out in the middle of the compound and that it might just have come off the wrong way.

You’re in no position at the moment to assume it might just be jealousy on Michael’s behalf.

You nod at Michael slowly with a frown. “I’m sorry.”

Michael’s gaze softens as he takes his cigarette out of his mouth. “You don’t have to apologize to me, Marina.” He rises from his seat, beginning to approach you directly.

Your breath hitches as you look up at Michael and force yourself to maintain eye contact despite having your face leveled only a few inches away from his crotch.

“I don’t want to repeat myself,” Michael continues, his tone of voice soft and husky but affirmative in how he lectures you. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you breathe out.

“I don’t want you near Nobilio. I don’t want you near any of those men like that,” Michael states. “You are my governess, not their friend and you will remain by my side when I ask you to.”

“I…” Blushing furiously and unable to avoid the feverish tension building between the both of you, you nod back almost too willingly. “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.”

‘What?’ Your eyes widen at his response, face flushing scarlet as you’re too shocked to even react to his words but Michael wastes no time in dismissing you, already having turned around and making his way over to the office door.

“Get yourself ready for the gala. We’re leaving now.”

It isn’t the first time nor will it be the last time you’ll exit from Michael’s office with a wet patch growing in your panties and a quiver running down your thighs—begging for Michael’s touch.

What that man does to you is beyond anything you can think of and all your rationality flies out the window in his presence alone.

He just had you here in his office moments ago, subtlety lecturing you as if you were his and his only, and all you did was agree readily. Yes, just like that.

You’ve no desire to be close to or interact personally with Ritchie Nobilio again if that’s what Michael wants, and yet you picked up on the sound in the tone of Michael’s voice and that look in his hazel eyes that were filled with a kind of concern and care—not out of worry for your safety but for something else.

‘To be close to him…’

Stunned and getting more and more aroused, you force yourself back into reality; getting ready to leave with the others as you remain quiet amongst the family.

With everything packed and all vehicles secured, lining up near the gates of the compound, you’re seated in the Cadillac with Esther only, seeing Sandra, her kids, and Mama Corleone in another and Tom, Theresa, and their children in another, leaving Michael, Kay, Mary and Anthony in their vehicle—the most protected.

The rest of Michael’s men and bodyguards drive close, following behind and leading ahead as all of the vehicles exit the compound.

You glance out the back windshield of the car, watching as the compound’s gates close shut; Michael’s men immediately secure the perimeters and keep watch until your vehicles drive away from their line of vision.

You have to admit, it helps not to be around Michael’s immediate presence, but you’re still too disenchanted to take anything else in.

All your mind runs through are thoughts of being next to Michael again; his dark eyes burning into you—calling you “good girl”. Did you just imagine that?

It’s not like you can make small talk with Esther now in the car to get Michael off your mind, seeing how Esther’s peacefully dozed off to catch up on her sleep after chasing the children around all morning.

Like a curse and a blessing at the same time, you have more than enough time to let your lewd thoughts of Michael get to you before you reach his commissioned private jet at the airport.

You take a deep breath and redirect your attention to gazing out of the car window, watching the scenery of Lake Tahoe rush past you.

One way or another, you’re excited to attend this gala even if all you’re doing is teasing yourself with thoughts of Michael. It’s an excuse for you to be by his side like he wants you to, like a good girl.

Just as you expected throughout the car ride to the Corleone family’s private jet at the airport, you’re far from the public eye in the airport and near twice as much security; barely catching more than a glance of him as Michael is the first to board his jet.

Rocco speaks to the pilot just by the entrance to the private jet and Al Neri follows the Corleone family close from behind, ensuring Kay, Mary, and Anthony board safely in front of him.

Michael’s buttonmen begin to load the private jet with everyone’s luggage and belongings from the trunks of the Cadillacs—including yours before you’re even aware of it—as you realize you’re standing next to Esther in silence, distracted by everything and everyone around you at this moment.

Esther gives you a small smile, aware of how pleasantly taken back you are from the scenery of Michael’s private jet alone from your wide eyes dazzling from surprise, let alone at the fact you’ve come to realize Michael owns a private jet.

‘Of course he does.’ You blink, noticing Esther gently nudging you.

“Come on, honey,” Esther gestures to you to line up with her to begin to enter the jet.

Snapping back to reality, you smile and nod back at Esther as you follow in behind her quietly.

‘What does Michael Corleone not have?’ You find yourself wondering yet again as you step into the private jet; a much bigger, more luxurious, and spacious layout than you could have imagined it’d be.

Three flight attendants stand before you, smiling and politely welcoming you and Esther on board, but you can already tell just by the way they look at you and their formal body language that they know you’re new and can expect to see you board more often; it’s almost flattering.

“This way, please,” one of the flight attendants gestures to the right as you notice the two-way split; the left side contains a more private, luxurious side you assume is for Michael and Kay.

Following through the right side, you spot Tom, Theresa, and their children seated in their luxurious reclining seats; a lush burgundy carpet underneath them and throughout the private jet, soft air conditioning blowing throughout and curtains to draw back over each seating section for privacy.

“Wow,” you find yourself murmuring under your breath as your eyes find two seats reserved with Esther and your name over a small embossed card.

Esther chuckles at your reaction, taking her seat next to you. “It’s amazing, isn’t it? I can never quite get used to it all.”

“I’m right there with you,” you blink, shifting comfortably in your seat.

“Personally,” Esther begins, folding her name card in half, “I don’t think Mr. Corleone would have us travel any other way. Only private.”

“Always?” You do the same with your name card, putting it into your purse.

“Without a doubt,” Esther nods, buckling herself in. “Believe me, I don’t think the Corleones believe in straying away from the lap of luxury.”

You glance down at your seatbelt, remembering how to put it on securely from how Tom showed you during your flight to Nevada.

“That’s what it’s all about,” Esther’s eyes meet with yours as you rest your back against your seat.

You give her a warm smile back, letting the words linger in the back of your mind. ‘That’s what all of this is about…’

~~~

The private jet takes off smoothly no sooner than ten minutes later, leaving you with some thoughtful time to relax and take in the peace and quiet; all the world of a difference from being on a public flight.

It’s another twenty minutes before it’s announced that the private jet has reached an altitude of 30,000 feet; the rest of your hour and thirty-minute flight awaiting to pass as a light meal service begins.

“I’m almost excited for you in a way,” Esther giggles, redirecting your attention from the dining carts the flight attendants begin to push through. “The first time truly experiencing the extent of Corleone hospitality is something else, I’ll tell you that.”

“Oh, gosh,” you feel flustered with the swift, luxury service in front of you within minutes, thanking the flight attendant who begins to pour Esther and you a glass of French champagne and set a porcelain platter of a small selection of desserts.

“Ooh, thank you so much,” Esther gleefully pulls her plate closer.

“Thank you,” your eyes widen at the colorful little macarons placed on your platter next to a piece of pistachio cannoli and a slice of tiramisu.

“The gala is going to be everything,” Esther whispers to you with heavy emphasis, raising her champagne glass. “How about that?”

“I’ll drink to that then,” you laugh with her, clinking your glass with Esther’s.

“Cheers, honey,” Esther takes a small sip of her champagne.

You and Esther make for soft conversation throughout the flight over champagne and sweets; topics ranging from your interest in education, Esther’s childhood, working with children and everything in between as an hour and a half passes by easily.

There’s no rush to eye for your luggage or rise from your seat when the private jet lands, as it’s smooth and gradual without any rush or gate to reach.

Now more than anything, you want to know and experience exactly all that Esther’s been telling you about when it comes to social gatherings, galas, and celebrations with the Corleones, and something tells you Michael intends to prove the fullest extent of his family’s hospitality to you time and time again.

~~~

Any nerves or uneasiness you had about all of what Las Vegas has to offer you for this gala has gradually eased off of you completely, and all you can do is thank Esther for it and all that she’s told you to expect and the reassurance she’s given you to also relax and enjoy yourself at these kinds of events.

You return the smile Esther gives you as both of you begin to exit the private jet; you can’t help but realize just how close the two of you have already gotten and will continue to get.

You like Esther, you enjoy the conversations you have with her even if it’s small talk and you love how her presence is easygoing and carefree.

Esther’s gentle and patient and there’s no doubt in your mind she’s a phenomenal nanny to the Corleones and has been for many years.

You follow Esther and the others to where Michael’s bodyguards stand by and gesture to several parked, black Cadillacs for the final drive to the gala.

As your eyes dart around to the other vehicles, you swear to yourself for a moment there you can make out Michael’s silhouette in the back seat of one of the vehicles, but Kay and the children are nowhere to be seen.

“When it comes to traveling—” Esther speaks up, getting into one of the assigned vehicles with you, “if Mr. and Mrs. Corleone wish to bring the children along, I’m always there. Wherever the children are, they’re my first priority. You may think the same, but—” Esther shifts in her seat, clicking on her seatbelt as the vehicle doors shut and you get inside with her. “Your situation is a little different?”

“How so?” You ask, a little flustered.

“You’re a teacher, it’s different,” Esther gives your hand a gentle pat. “Mr. and Mrs. Corleone may want to spend more time with you regularly to understand the progress of their children’s education and behavior. They rarely ask me for much about that, but I don’t think that’ll be the case with you. I think Mrs. Corleone will want to spend a lot of time with you in general.”

“Oh, I see,” you nod back, pushing away the gnawing feeling inside of you that you’d much rather prefer merely standing in Michael’s presence all the time instead of spending one-on-one time with Kay.

‘I shouldn’t be thinking like this in the first place.’ You mentally scold yourself.

“Either way,” Esther interrupts your train of thought, “all is fine, isn’t it? Who would give up the opportunity to travel so often like this? I know I would take more of it if I could.”

All this can possibly mean for you is seeing Michael more, being with Michael more, and spending time with him you wouldn’t get as much or as easily on the Lake Tahoe compound like that—especially alone.

It’s only a brief twenty-minute ride from the airport to the gala and already leaves you mesmerized as you can hardly get your eyes off of the passing, dazzling streets of Las Vegas and everything it has to offer.

You’re only momentarily distracted once it comes to your attention that half of the vehicles take a separate route, leaving the rest of you; a reaction which Esther easily picks up on as you notice Sandra, Tom, and Theresa, and Michael and Kay take an alternative route.

“Security measures, you know?”

“Oh, always?” You glance back at Esther.

“Mostly,” she nods back at you. “It’s almost solely reserved for Mr. and Mrs. Corleone. Only their bodyguard knows what routes they’ll be taking.”

‘Interesting…’

Regardless of the alternative route taken, all of the Corleone family vehicles arrive at the guarded, private entrance of the gala only mere seconds apart from one another.

The front of the Tropigala’s grandiose nature stands out before you as you notice how heavily guarded and gated the VIP entrance is, making it more than apparent it’s only an entrance for the Corleone family alone.

The Tropigala itself is unlike any size building you’ve ever seen before back in New York; simply massive and boasts over thirty acres of space with over 130,000 square feet.

The Tropigala is not merely just a four-star resort but boasts a vast casino as a part of its well-known amenities and with the sun setting on the Vegas horizon, the flashing and flickering lights of the casino and resort shine together—coming at a sparkle from every angle.

The twinkling lights reflect back in your eyes as your vehicles come to a slow halt towards the private entrance, and you can just make out Michael’s vehicle at the front—surrounded by more security coming towards it than anyone else.

As your vehicle parks, the doors are opened for you and Esther by a bodyguard who gives you two a small, polite smile but otherwise remains quiet.

You mumble a soft “thank you” as you step out first, followed by Esther as Michael’s men move to take out the luggage from each vehicle’s trunk next.

You hear familiar giggling ahead only to look up and see Mary gazing up in sheer wonder at the size of the Tropigala, holding Kay’s hand.

Anthony cracks a smile, remaining quiet next to his family and your eyes are far too quick to dart up to Michael who stands next to Kay, adjusting his silk tie and speaking with a few bodyguards near him.

Your view of Michael remains to be only from behind for now, but it’s more than enough for you. Once again, you feel a strike of arousal rush through you—pulling you into a haze of distraction.

It isn’t until Michael begins to turn around moments later that you realize he’s asking, “Where is Marina?”

Blushing furiously at the sound of Michael saying your name, you glance back up at him and notice an immediate look of satisfaction settling in his hazel eyes.

“Come here,” he gestures to you to stand by his side.

Doing what you’re told, your eyes peek at Kay who appears distracted with Anthony and Mary; having kneeled down to their height and calmly explaining to them what rules and behaviors she expects at the gala.

Michael gestures to his bodyguard without taking his eyes off of you; the bodyguard immediately takes your side protectively.

“Miss Aligheri,” the bodyguard speaks to you directly. “Per Mr. Corleone’s request, your room has been changed. I am to escort you inside with the others.”

“Oh?” You glance back at Michael for confirmation but see his attention with his other bodyguards. “Oh, alright.” Stunned, you don’t feel the need to ask the how and whys of a room change at this hour.

The bodyguard remains by your side but turns to face the front of the entrance as the doors begin to slowly open.

Once you, Esther, and the others begin to move in, you notice Michael remaining back for just a few moments longer until you move just slightly past him.

“Don’t leave your room until I tell you to.”

Your eyes snap open in surprise as arousal courses through your muscles; you force yourself to avoid Michael’s gaze and only give him a nod back in response.

‘Oh my God.’

Once you sense Michael’s presence moving further toward the entrance of the Tropigala, you quickly look in his direction.

Just as Michael, the children, and Kay are about to be the first ones to enter the Tropigala, you see the look of glee spread over Kay’s face; her eyes fawning at Michael with excitement.

Upon first entrance, Kay leans up towards Michael on the tips of her toes, gently tilts Michael’s face with one hand, and kisses his lips passionately.

In the split second, you witness the deep kiss between Kay and Michael, a deep strike of jealousy rushes through your chest and intensifies through queasiness in the pit of your stomach.

You immediately turn your head away in response, feeling the tips of your ears and the back of your neck prickle with jealousy.

‘Okay…’ Letting out a soft, shaky breath, you continue to follow the bodyguard into the private lobby of the Tropigala as he escorts you and your luggage to your newly assigned suite.

‘Don’t leave the room until I tell you to…’ Dazed and in a mix of confusion and jealousy, you only take a glance behind you to see other bodyguards leading the rest of the family through different turns down the private lobby and other elevators.

“All on the same floor,” you hear Tom say to Theresa as they enter the same elevator with you and another bodyguard, relieving you.

‘It makes sense,’ you think to yourself, returning the polite smile Tom and Theresa give you.

You can’t spot Michael, Kay, or the children around you but with how your emotions have suddenly spiked up and feel jumbled in your chest, it’s for the best you try not to find them right now.

Three grand elevators fit to carry fifteen people comfortably take everyone up into the private suites of the Tropigala and once you all reach the same floor, you can hear soft chatter coming from the others; lost in conversation about the scheduling of events at the gala or some form of entertainment.

“There’ll be more than enough time to get ready,” you hear Sandra say to Theresa. “I’m not stepping foot downstairs until I have both my hair and makeup done—no chance.”

“Right,” Tom chuckles back. “I trust Theresa with it.”

“Room 20M, miss,” the bodyguard speaks out to you, gesturing down another hallway.

Nodding, you follow the bodyguard down an isolated hallway, realizing that the others have gone down the same corridor on the opposite side of the building.

There isn’t so much as another glance or comment towards your path of direction, and it causes you further confusion as you and the bodyguard near the end of the hallway see only one suite door.

“What is this?” You ask, blinking.

The bodyguard pauses for a moment, glancing at you. You can tell by the look in his eyes that he was unaware nobody had given you any specifics on the room aside from the fact it’s been changed last second.

“This is a presidential suite, miss,” the bodyguard answers. “Mr. Corleone had it arranged for you.”

‘Oh.’ Your heart skips a beat in your chest. ‘Of course…he…did.’

“I trust you will find luxurious and ample space,” the bodyguard continues, approaching the suite door and reaching into his suit pocket for the keys.

“Compared to the others?” You ask, watching the bodyguard begin to unlock the door.

“Second to Mr. and Mrs. Corleone’s.”

The bodyguard twists the doorknob and wedges his foot inside the ajar door before turning to hand you the key.

Taking it from his hands, you peek into the suite as the bodyguard keeps the door held wide for you to enter first as he takes your bags in after you.

For the sake of keeping yourself presentable near the bodyguard, you hold in every reaction you have inside of you towards the inside of what appears to be nothing short of a mansion within; much bigger than the entirety of your family home back in New York.

Marble floors lead throughout the suite with silver and gold renaissance-inspired fixtures complete with a full kitchen, three bedrooms down the hallway, and a master bedroom boasting the size of a living room to your right.

As you enter the suite, you notice the master bedroom’s French doors are both wide open, revealing a king-sized bed with a luxurious, baroque pattern duvet and six pillows propped up.

The glistening evening lights from around the Tropigala and the surrounding Las Vegas area twinkle through the balcony, giving a gorgeous view of the vicinity of the resort.

The décor throughout the suite has a vintage flair of the 1930s with fur rugs over the marble floors and a grand fireplace in both the main living space and the master bedroom.

Just as you turn around towards the door to thank your bodyguard for placing your luggage inside, you notice he’s already gone.

You let out a soft sigh of relief, shutting and locking the door behind you.

Feeling a sense of relaxation finally hit you after the trip, you move past your luggage and begin walking towards the kitchen.

On the countertop remains a large gift basket wrapped in clear plastic, revealing a bottle of white wine, champagne, and other various chocolates, sweets, and chocolate-covered fruits with a small letter affixed to the front of the gift basket reading “Marina” in cursive.

Blushing, you gently take the letter off of the gift basket and run your fingers over your handwritten name in the middle, admiring the neat and smooth cursive letters.

Opening the envelope, you take out a small piece of paper tucked inside that reads:

‘I intend to give you what you deserve and what you’ve wanted.

I imagine the suite is to your liking.

Welcome to the family, Marina.

- Michael Corleone.’

As you hold the letter in your hands, re-reading it over again, you let out a soft gasp to hear the click of the door to your suite opening.

Presuming the bodyguard returned and is checking up on you, you move out of the kitchen and clutch the letter in your hands as you look over by the front door.

‘Michael.’

In an instant, your heart begins to thunder in your chest from attraction and arousal surging through you all at once—caught in utter surprise by his presence.

“Good evening, Marina,” Michael approaches, noticing the letter in your hand. “Are you satisfied with everything?”

You’re so flustered in the heat of the moment that you can barely find the words to speak back out to him, stunned and trying to take in the fact that Michael is with you alone in your suite.

‘Does anyone else know of this? Would I even want to tell?’

“It’s incredible,” you finally breathe out. “It’s more than anything I could have ever imagined, but—”

“But?” Michael interrupts, standing only a mere few inches from you with expectation in his eyes as if there’s a right or wrong answer to this.

“What have I done to deserve this?” You ask, breathless.

“I don’t want you to ask me that question again,” Michael says, rigidly. “Don’t,” he continues, “ask questions to which you know the answers. You’re smarter than that.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply back obediently, taking yourself by surprise by your own response.

Michael appears content with your reaction. “Your parents raised a very intelligent, respectable, and ambitious woman. One would not have to get to know you very well to understand that, but I see the others you were around provided you nothing. You don’t need to deserve anything with me, Marina. You will simply have them.”

Michael’s eyes wander over the gift basket on the kitchen counter before back at you. “Perhaps you’re not quite fully comfortable with the hospitality and luxuries the Corleone family has to offer because you still believe you need to deserve these things. There is no such thing,” he locks eyes with you. “You won’t be deprived of or limited of anything.”

“I see,” you reply back quietly.

“And yet you’ve seen nothing.”

“Nothing?” You blink back in shock.

“Come with me,” Michael gestures, beginning to make his way toward the master bedroom.

The idea of entering a private bedroom alone with Michael makes your knees quiver from arousal as you trail after him.

‘Just…. Follow. Don’t think, just follow him like he asked you to.’

From the angle that you saw the master bedroom wide open, you noticed nothing but the size of the bed and the spaciousness that awaited you.

Upon entering the room for the first time with Michael, your eyes fall upon the stunning, satin scarlet gown Michael had picked out for you, neatly laid out on the edge of the bed.

“This is…” You gasp, approaching the edge of the bed. “Absolutely beautiful, it’s…” You lean over and run your hands over the soft fabric before standing upright—completely frozen in a spot as you feel Michael’s chest against your back.

“Stay still, darling,” Michael murmurs, breathing against your neck.

‘Oh, God.’ Doing as he says, you squeeze your eyes shut and feel Michael brush a curtain of your hair aside from one side of your neck to the other, clasping a piece of jewelry to your neck.

It carries some weight, and as you open your eyes to see you notice it dangling in between your breasts; glistening diamonds, adorning your neck. You can already picture how you’ll look with the red gown on you after.

Michael clasps the necklace on you perfectly; his hands gentle, smooth, and soft against your hot, glowing skin.

You know by now you’d be nothing but a fool to assume Michael can’t clearly tell just how aroused you are by how warm your skin has gotten in reaction to his touch.

“There,” Michael says, pulling his hands away. “Your earrings are on your vanity table.”

You slowly turn around, not to move towards the vanity table to get the earrings or look at them, but rather to gaze up at Michael.

Both of you look directly into each other's eyes as you mouth out a breathless, “Thank you.”

Michael returns your thanks with a nod, continuing to gaze into your eyes with silence; no words, and no expectations.

His gaze devours yours, speaking more than words, upon each other the way two lovers would admire one another in silence.

“I want to be the first to see you downstairs at the gala when you arrive,” Michael breaks the silence.

You nod back, unable to speak.

“You’re beautiful,” Michael states, watching as your eyes widen from the compliment; your rosy cheeks flushing again with blush. “And I’m certain I won’t be the only one who thinks so tonight.”

‘I…’

Speechless, you watch as Michael takes a step back, beginning to move towards the doors of the master bedroom.

Every muscle in your body aches and craves for Michael more than ever; you wish so badly to yourself that he wouldn’t have to leave so that you two could just spend a moment longer alone, even though he has to.

‘I miss him already but he’s still here.’

“Take all the time you need,” Michael says, his back facing you. “But I’d rather not wait long.”

~~~

The next twenty minutes pass by like a haze as if you’re in a dream-like state as you begin to get ready for the night at your first gala.

The satin, red gown fits you like a glove; hugging every inch and curve of your body but flattering your skin with the soft, satin fabric.

The dress falls off your shoulders and gives a subtle but sexy peek of cleavage, not to mention drawing much more attention to your collarbones now that there’s a diamond necklace adorning it.

The five-inch black stilettos placed next to the foot of your bed are going to make a ravishing touch to show whenever you take a seat.

You spray a bit of perfume around your collarbones, the back of your neck, writs, and a little over your back as you finish up your look by letting your hair flow freely; slight loose curls finished up with some hair spray and product to hold it in place.

Wearing the matching diamond earrings from Michael, a matching bold, red lipstick, and a small, winged eyeliner with a subtle blended touch of smoky eyeshadow in the corner of your eye with two coats of mascara later, you’re finally ready.

You grab your sequin studded purse and sling it over your shoulder, tucking your suite keys inside before you exit.

Locking the door behind you, you take a peek around the hallway leading to the elevator and can't hear or spot anyone else nearby.

You take the elevator down to the main floor to a private foyer leading into the front banquet hall of the gala.

You can already hear the bustle and cheerful voices of chatter and music coming from the main hall and wonder where you’ll find the Corleones; no doubt at some visibly marked VIP tables.

From the moment you step out of the elevator, you face two sets of spiral staircases that twist around one another and lead up to the suite floors with Michael waiting in between them, gazing directly at you.

It seems Michael was momentarily distracted right up until the elevator doors opened, and a mesmerized look crossed his eyes at the sight of you; his eyes admiring your figure up to the diamonds over your neck and the pout of your lips.

“Miss Alighieri,” Michael greets you as you take a few steps out of the elevator.

“Michael,” you blush, moving forward.

“Come sit down, come sit!” You can faintly hear Kay’s voice coming from the banquet hall, scolding Mary from afar.

Michael ignores his wife’s voice, admiring your beauty before him. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you blush furiously at the second time he’s given you the same compliment in less than an hour.

“Come with me,” Michael gestures to the banquet hall, leading you in alongside him to the main gala area.

Bright lights and several shining chandeliers dangle from high ceilings all above, a live orchestra up front on a gilded stage playing a lively tune with violin and piano while a few couples dance with one another.

Waiters and waitresses buzz to and through each table carrying a tray on each hand, serving champagne and hors d’ouvres.

Hundreds of dollars worth of wine is uncorked and champagne is popped and poured, including a fountain of champagne towards the center of the banquet hall where onlooking guests giddily await their turn for a glass.

As you continue to follow Michael through, you notice the section in which you two walk through is reserved and separated by velvet rope and bodyguards—leading you to the back of the banquet hall which remains quieter but with a perfect view of the entire gala’s events just up ahead.

A mouthwatering scent of smoky meats and stewed vegetables hits you as you see the waiters and waitresses for dinner service begin to move dishes to private tables, leaving a buffet table towards the further sides of the banquet for guests as well.

There’s no lack of options for meals and for the first time in your life, you’re in front of more than three kinds of dishes and refreshments.

The tables at the gala are at an appropriate distance from one another for the sake of navigation and walking space but to reduce eavesdropping and prying eyes, completely reserved and without a single empty seat yet arranged in such an orderly fashion that the banquet hall doesn’t look overcrowded.

Suits and ties, gowns and dresses flow everywhere, mixing into the scents of expensive colognes and perfumes all around.

As you reach the reserved tables for the Corleone family, you notice there’s a total of five grouped around each other and reinforced security inconspicuously making their rounds nearby.

You notice Al Neri and Rocco on opposite sides, watching intently, and assume Michael’s other men must have gone incognito.

“Marina!” Kay’s eyes light up as she peeks up from her seat, sitting next to Connie.

You blush from the sudden attention over you, waving back at Michael but you see Kay’s reaction doesn’t even phase Michael.

“Oh my… Wow,” Kay’s eyes grow wide at the sight of your dress, eyeing you head to toe.

“Hi, Kay,” you smile back.

“Hey, Marina,” Connie gives you a confident smile, sipping her cosmopolitan cocktail. “You look oh so gorgeous, you know that? So beautiful, honey,” she gestures out by extending her hand—all the diamond jewelry and rings over it sparkling underneath the chandelier light, “that red is everything on you.”

“Thank you, ladies,” you beam back, “you all look so gorgeous tonight too.”

“Says you,” Connie winks back as you take a seat at the reserved seat with your name on it, just across from her and Kay.

Your eyes land on Kay’s dress, peeking at the details. Kay wears a midi-length, long-sleeved, lace evergreen dress next to Connie in a stunning, sequined, mermaid gown in a deep marine color.

While Kay keeps her statement piece, and pearl accessories minimal, Connie on the other hand is covered from head to toe in various diamonds—glistening at every angle and despite the flashy look, the only diamonds Kay’s eyes are on are the ones around your own neck.

For a moment, you can see in Kay’s eyes that she’s hyper-focused on your diamond necklace, going from surprise to appearing somewhat mildly glum as you get comfortable in your seat.

Michael takes his seat next to you, keeping both you and Kay by his side as you look over to the table across; Sandra and Mama Corleone smiling and giving you greeting waves.

“Any minute now,” Connie eyes the waitstaff coyly.

“The event hasn’t started yet?” You ask, noticing how distracted Kay becomes while watching her children at the table with the others and Esther remains.

“The evening has hardly started yet, darling, Once we get our menus and refreshments, we can call this a property party,” Connie’s eyes flash to Michael’s momentarily.

“You’ll stay around?” Sandra calls out to you from the other table.

“I believe I will,” you smile back at her politely.

“This is new for you, isn’t it?” Sandra giggle.

“It is—” You begin before Michael cuts you off.

“Marina knows her place,” he states—causing a flare-up of blush over your cheeks.

Sandra nods, the mood of playfulness washing off of her expression from Michael’s response.

“Oh, finally,” Connie scoffs, noticing special waitstaff dressed in full black begin to approach the Corleone family tables who begin to place menus in front of everyone upon the table.

You make split-second eye contact with Michael before you return your attention to the menu with your name embellished on it in front of you, blushing deeply.

The waitstaff serves the French champagne mentioned at the top of the menu in every glass, rotating around the table and as you focus on the sparkling liquid being poured into your cup, you notice you can still feel Michael’s eyes over you.

Your eyes trail down to the menu, beginning to read the listed refreshments first. Alongside the French champagne you begin to drink, there are options of port, sherry, and white Bordeaux.

Appetizers include foie gras cured duck breast and rhubarb, lobster roasted carrots with buttermilk puree, and scallops with charred leek onion broth and pink purslane.

The entrees include Sicilian rabbit finished with a sweet and sour sauce topped with Sicilian sardines, truffle roasted duck, guinea fowl with licorice braised leeks morels and rosemary sous vide lamb.

You can hardly believe your eyes at the numerous options of some of the most luxurious dishes you’ve ever read; half of these kinds of meals you’re completely unfamiliar with but seem like the Corleones eat every single day.

The dessert menu lists a mango cremeux Douglas-fir and yogurt sorbet with white cookie dough, peanut caramelized banana sorbet with banana cake, and dark chocolate with smoked hazelnut praline topped off with salted milk ice cream.

“I’m taking my time with this,” Connie relishes the first sip of her French champagne.

“You’re telling me,” Sandra comments back from her table.

“Everything looks so amazing,” you murmur to yourself, looking around to see how everyone is engrossed in the menu’s contents.

You notice nobody’s eyes are on you and it brings you a small measure of comfort, especially to the Corleone family’s knowledge that you’ve never seen or experienced anything like this before.

This may be completely new to you, but nobody is exactly treating you like you’re a stray dog now adopted and living in the lap of luxury.

It helps alleviate the embarrassment you still slightly feel, especially with all the newfound attention and luxury over you on a daily basis, let alone directly from Michael.

As you glance over to your side, you notice a pause taking a sip from his French champagne as Al Neri approaches him, leaning over to whisper something only audible to Michael in his ear for a mere moment.

Michael neither nods nor reacts, only giving Al Neri an approving look before he begins to rise from his seat.

Despite Michael already getting up, you notice everyone else at the table and the surrounding ones pay no attention to Michael leaving, so you try to do the same.

As Michael walks off with Al Neri towards the midst of the banquet hall, you assume to yourself this is probably the expectation others have placed upon Michael to do nothing but socialize with him and network.

‘How much closer does he want to be with me tonight like this?’

“Long night,” Sandra sighs at her table, almost completely finished with her first glass of French champagne already.

“You don’t have to worry,” Connie says to you as she watches Kay get up from her seat as well to meet with a couple by the champagne fountain gleefully, leaving you alone with Connie and Sandra's company.

“It could have been worse for you,” Connie speaks out to Sandra.

‘I have no idea what that means.’ You stare back at Connie in confusion before noticing the sad look crossing over Sandra’s eyes.

“I don’t know,” Sandra shrugs her shoulders. “I miss it.”

“You miss it?” You speak up, suddenly becoming too curious not to be a part of the conversation now.

“Sonny,” Sandra gives you a longing, melancholy smile.

You’ve heard the name before, more so as Santino whom you know to be Sandra’s late husband.

“You should have told Marina,” Connie sips her champagne smugly.

“It hasn’t been easy, you know,” Sandra shoots Connie a glare before turning to face you, the same sadness returning back to the pool in her eyes. “Sonny would have loved these sorts of things—getting involved in meeting new people.”

“A little too much,” Connie comments.

“Right, I know,” Sandra rolls her eyes. “But anyway, it’s true. Eyes everywhere. I felt like I had to police him to behave.”

“He was the party-going type?”

“Oh, no, no, no,” Connie chuckles. “You want to see the partygoing type? Talk about charisma and enthusiasm, just look at my brother.”

Connie gestures behind her towards the champagne fountain where you spot Fredo wearing a two-piece beige suit and bowtie, sunglasses on despite being indoors and beaming proudly next to a blonde bombshell next to him who runs her hands through her flirtatiously with a show-winning grin—dressed in a dainty, mini mauve dress that threatens to spill down her chest.

Fredo and the woman next to him speak with four people who seem wildly interested in whatever they’re saying; Fredo enthusiastically cracks jokes, laughs, and talks wildly with his hands.

“That’s my brother, Fredo,” Connie clarifies. “He’ll want to meet you soon.”

“I look forward to it,” you’re stunned, unable to truly make sense of how different all of the Corleone brothers are from one another.

Never would you have guessed someone like Fredo would be the stern and cunning Michael Corleone’s brother of all things.

“I wonder if you would have liked Sonny,” Sandra looks up at you. “You’re a real pretty girl.”

Connie clears her throat loudly, looking around the banquet hall to spot any waitstaff nearby.

“Washroom,” Sandra turns her head away and mumbles to herself to be excused, getting up from her seat just as more waitstaff begin to approach.

‘What’s that supposed to mean? What?’ Thoroughly confused, you sit patiently and quietly in your seat despite all the awkwardness that just ensues throughout that conversation.

Kay and Michael begin to return to their seats as the waitstaff begins to serve the appetizers, all coming back together.

One of the waitstaff pours you three different glasses of wine, all off of the selections on the menu in front of you in six ounces each as the other waitstaff due to each and every one of you at all the Corleone family tables.

Three porcelain plates are set out in front of everyone with a perfectly small portion of each of the appetizers to try.

Once the waitstaff departs, the conversation starts small and soft at the table, mostly about family plans, the trip here, and the Corleone family estate in New York.

Michael rarely comments or speaks up, but notice how intently he listens and the eye contact he makes with whoever is speaking at the table; conversations far removed from what you know and can relate to, but even as you smile and comment, you feel included in the conversations and your comments valued.

At any given moment when you realize Kay’s eyes are not on you or anyone else speaking, you see how blatantly obvious she makes her admiration towards Michael.

‘I’m no better,’ you remind yourself as you attempt to stifle any feelings of rising jealousy.

“Where’s Fredo, by the way?” Tom asks, turning around in his seat and eyeing around the banquet hall.

Michael appears unamused as Mama Corleone chuckles, “You’re looking for him already?”

“Well,” Tom starts out with a laugh, “I wanted to know because Fredo hasn’t met Marina formally yet.”

“That’s fair,” Kay points out, “but I think he’s been chatting it up with some guests for the past hour now.”

“He’ll come around,” Connie comments. “He always does.”

“We have time until dinner is served,” Michael speaks up.

“Besides,” Connie continues, looking over at you as she begins to rise from her seat. “My brother Fredo and his wife Deanna know all about you.”

“Deanna Dunn, the movie star,” Tom clarifies.

You notice out of the corner of your eye that Sandra makes her way back to her seat, doing so quietly so as not to interrupt the ongoing conversation or draw attention to herself.

“Introductions are in order tonight,” Kay gleefully adds, beginning to get up from her seat as she gestures to you. “Come, Marina! We’ll introduce you to Fredo.”

“Kay,” Michael stares at her; his tone smooth and soft but demanding and disapproving all at once.

An expression of sudden hurt crosses Kay’s eyes as Michael begins to stand up. “Allow me.”

“Okay,” Kay says barely audibly, sitting back down in her seat.

All it takes is a further expectant glance from Michael over to you for you to find yourself standing next to him a moment after, accompanying him to meet Fredo.

Kay gives you an awkward smile before turning her attention back over to the banquet hall to spot Fredo and Deanna.

You follow Michael across the banquet hall with Al Neri cautiously accompanying from behind as Michael leads you towards a young man in his 30s, with receding hairline neatly slicked back and combed dark, chestnut brown hair, a mustache and what you first noticed about him that took you by surprise—aviator sunglasses on inside the banquet hall.

Fredo’s dressed in a toned-down yellow, single-breasted blazer jacket over a silky, black dress shirt with his collar worn open to tuck in a knotted, silk paisley scarf.

Dressed much more vibrant than the rest of his brothers, Fredo’s trousers are a checkered beige with gold and black patterns and a pair of white, leather loafers on his feet.

“Yeah! You wouldn’t believe it!” Fredo laughs, speaking to a guest.

You’re pleasantly surprised to come across a Corleone brother so full of life; Fredo showcasing to you before a formal introduction that he’s a man of extreme charisma.

You can tell Fredo has a charming demeanor and a contagious smile; talking with his hands and using vivid language makes him seem like the life of the party in a refreshing way to you, but is also a huge shock to think about the fact that Fredo is Michael’s biological older brother.

Michael’s not as phased as you or the guests who listen to Fredo’s invigorating story, but the woman wrapped around Fredo’s arm certainly is.

‘That must be Deanna.’ Fredo’s wife curls up to his arm with one hand and the other on her hip; a bold smirk over her face as she reaches her free hand up to ruffle her tousled, voluminous hairdo.

Fredo already appears the very opposite of Michael in your eyes despite you never having spoken a word to him.

It’s then and there that as you and Michael approach closely and come to a standstill Fredo’s eyes fall over the two of you and light up in glee; not just to see his brother but at the sight of you—a new face, accompanying him.

“Miiiikey!” Fredo exclaims, practically throwing his wife off of his arm who scowls back at Fredo momentarily but as soon as she catches your gaze over hers, Deanna gives you a fake, polite smile.

Fredo wraps his arms around Michael to bring him in for a hug. You see Michael hesitate for a brief second due to the awkward nature of the hug, but he pats his brother’s back gently after giving him a short hug and pulling away.

“Fredo,” Michael gestures to you. “This is our new governess, Marina Aligheri.”

“Marina Alighieri!” Fredo repeats your name in an upbeat tone, extending out his hand for you to shake. “Nice to meet ya, I’m Fredo Corleone.”

“Nice to meet you too, Fredo,” you beam, shaking his hand back.

“I run all the entertainment when it comes to our family’s hotels and resorts. The social aspect, ya know.”

Michael still appears unphased, watching your interaction with Fredo as if he’s monitoring how your formal introduction to his brother is going.

“Very nice!”

“I look forward to seeing you around,” Fredo gives you a playful wink.

“Likewise.”

“And here—” Fredo spins around to scoop Deanna’s arm around him once more. “Is my beautiful wife Deanna Dunn Corleone!”

Deanna giggles, tousling her hair again and appearing relieved and flattered that she’s finally getting her round of introductions. “Hi darling, how do you do?”

“Nice to meet you, Deanna,” you shake her hand.

“Deanna’s a movie star,” Fredo chuckles, “in all of the newest pictures you can find in Hollywood. She’s working on a new film with Johnny Fontane, you know?”

“Oh?” Your eyes light in surprise at that name, an actor you’re very familiar with on the big screen.

“I’m assuming you know of him?” Michael glances at you.

“Yes, of course,” you giggle back, “he’s very famous back in New York.”

“First his music and now his movies,” Fredo chuckles, “I betcha didn’t know that Johnny was the godchild of my father.”

“It’s true,” Michael nods in confirmation.

“Johnny comes around a lot to our resorts to perform too, him and all his friends in the music and movie business. Especially now that he and Deanna are shooting a picture together, so you’ll get a chance to meet Johnny for yourself too.”

“That does sound exciting. I would love that.”

“We can make it happen,” Michael states before abruptly changing the conversation. “The table is expecting the two of you to join us.”

“Ah, we know, Mikey.” Fredo brushes Michael off, “We’ll get there, no worries, okay?” He pats Michael’s shoulder reassuringly, “Deanna and I just wanna make a few more rounds to say hello and then we’ll all join you and everyone at the table for dinner.”

Michael locks eyes with Fredo expectantly before leading you onward. “Come, Marina.”

“Where to—” You notice Michael gently leads you by his side further throughout the crowd of the banquet and farther away from the Corleone family dining tables.

“Just follow me,” Michael lowers his voice, giving you the queue to remain quiet and do as he says.

Nibbling on your bottom lip, you do as Michael says and walk by his side at the same pace quietly.

You keep your eyes towards the midst of the banquet hall all while avoiding making eye contact with any guests or blatantly looking around.

Inconspicuous and simply passing through, you notice how hyper-focused Michael is looking into the crowd; his eyes darting back and forth until they land somewhere amongst the crowd and harden—firm and lacking any emotion.

Michael’s expression turns ice cold in mere moments, striking anxiety within you as a result.

‘What? What is it that he’s looking at?’ You desperately try to find what Michael’s gaze focuses upon amidst the crowd to no avail.

“Marina,” Michael’s eyes fill with concern as he looks back at you.

“Yes?” You breathe out, feeling your heart beginning to pound in your chest.

‘Something is wrong. Very, very wrong.’ The anxiety and tension from this situation alone make your muscles stiffen with fear.

Michael’s voice is cautious but soft as if to soothe you as he speaks. “Look up right in front of you.”

Just as you turn around to do so, your eyes lock on two Italian men in the corner of the banquet hall holding glasses of champagne and speaking quietly to one another around a decorative fountain.

“Are they familiar?” You feel Michael’s breath over your neck from how protectively close he moves over to you.

Your heart sinks into the bottom of your stomach as you stare at the two men; a rush of deep, twisting anxiety coursing through you as you swallow hard.

‘I know who they are.’

You know who you’re looking at, but unable to put names to faces to these buttonmen, the same buttonmen who worked for the Barzini family; the same men that were sent to kill your brothers for the debt they owed that fateful night.

‘Oh…’

Simple assassins, nothing more. Men are hired to do dirty work, have basic skills, and collect debts. Completely business, nothing personal, but two killers that killed a piece of your family nonetheless enjoying themselves at a Corleone-hosted family event.

”Marina,” Michael says your name again, beckoning you back to reality.

As you face Michael once more, your eyes stink with tears as you blink. Nothing but horror and shock register through you.

‘Does it make sense to have mobsters at an event like this? From that family? Why? How does Michael know of any of this?’ A thousand questions buzz through your mind as you find the answers to them all in Michael’s eyes.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” Michael squeezes both of your wrists reassuringly.

“I…” You let out a soft, disoriented breath—feeling dazed from the jumble of emotions suffocating you.

“It’s those men, isn’t it?”

“Y-yes,” you stammer back. “But h-how do you know?”

Michael doesn’t answer you, shifting his attention back to the men, but you insist.

“How do you know, Michael?” You touch his arm, pulling Michael’s attention back to you.

“How could I not know?” Michael stares back at you.

When it comes to you, there’s little to nothing Michael doesn’t already know, and for a man like him to know, he must have run a background search on you and your entire family. Would that include the deaths of your brothers by mobsters? Would anyone be able to hide something like that from Michael Corleone?

“You’re certain, aren’t you?” Michael asks.

“Y-yes,” you answer, your voice shaking. “I remember them too well. That’s them.”

“Stay close to me,” Michael murmurs, wrapping an arm around your back and pulling you to the opposite side of the crowd.

Dazed and confused but electrified by Michael’s warm touch against your skin, the two of you move back to the Corleone family tables.

With such a protective touch over you, any sense of anxiety melts off your body as Michael ensures nobody bumps into you from the crowd or touches you.

Once the Corleone family tables are back in sight, Michael lets go of you as if nothing happened—expecting you to take your seat back at the table.

“Dinner must go on,” Michael tells you, “but after this, you need to talk to me about—”

“What’s there to say?” You breathe out. “They found their way here, didn’t think?”

“You think they’ll leave here alive?” Michael stares back at you. “Go, Marina. Sit down at the table and worry about dinner and nothing else. Do I make myself clear?”

You feel as if you’re in a trance as you make your way back to the tables, trying to focus on the present with everyone around you—having returned without Michael.

The serving of the main course meal gives you time to get yourself together and distract the others through dinner-related conversation, some stories being told about family travels, and the like around you.

You smile, pay attention, and listen, but don’t have much to say as the continuous feeling of anxiety and fear gnaws inside of you, reminding you through every painful moment that your brothers’ killers are attending this very gala.

Despite the rush of emotions over you, there’s a sense of safety with the Corleones you can’t deny. The ongoing conversations feel natural and like you’re at home and a part of them—not to mention the mouthwatering scents of the main dishes being served, fond culinary dishes from the old country.

The aroma of the Sicilian rabbit being served is heavenly, smothered in a sweet and sour sauce next to the savory truffle roasted duck and richly cooked guinea fowl and braised leeks, dashed with a touch of rosemary.

Paired with the white Bordeaux, you’ve now only begun to realize just how hungry you’ve become with these luxurious dishes placed in front of you.

You savor the taste of the delicious, well-cooked meats on your tongue with the creaminess of the braised leeks down to the tenderness of the roasted duck.

Only a few moments after dinner is served does Michael return to the table and take his seat next to you, already engrossed in the conversation his family is having but only returning one-worded, dry replies and paying more attention to Kay speaking more than anyone else.

‘Relax, just relax,’ you tell yourself, focusing on the meal. You can blame nobody but yourself for how you feel, even though Michael’s still given you a sliver of comfort and protection.

You try not to frown or make your emotions obvious over your expression, but you hyperfocus on your meal consistently throughout dinner until you hear Kay’s voice call out your name.

You look up and smile at Kay politely, but it’s far too late to let the distraction and mellowness in your eyes go unnoticed.

“Are you alright, darling?”

“I’m fine,” you muster up an answer, but you can tell Kay won’t simply accept that and leave it as is. “Just feeling really tired and I’m not sure where it’s coming from.”

There’s no world that exists where you can simply tell Kay your anxiety is getting the better of you right here and right now because your brothers’ murderers are here enjoying the gala too and may just now have been placed on a hit list of some kind by Michael.

‘This is all becoming too much.’

“Oh honey, don’t strain yourself too much,” Kay pouts. “Sometimes the exhaustion of the trip hits you later on, I know how it can feel. It’s a lot to handle—all the noise and the flight,” she lets out a soft sigh. “How’s your dinner?”

“It’s incredible to say the last,” you let out a breathy laugh. “I really don’t want to let it go to waste.”

“And you don’t have to,” she replies. “We can have it brought up to your room fresh and warm, but I’m going to feel awful just sitting here and seeing you in discomfort, waiting on an inevitable headache.”

“Right,” you nod weakly, “I may have to excuse myself, I’m sorry.”

“Oh please don’t ever apologize for that!” Kay shakes her head, “it’s completely alright, Marina. The night is still young, and we have an afterparty too. You should rest up and take care of yourself until then. We can have your meal brought up to you and you can have a bit of peace and quiet away from all this noise.”

“Thank you,” you say in relief, slowly beginning to rise out of your seat.

Michael watches you get up from the corner of his eye, having listened to your conversation with Kay but remains unmoved otherwise.

“Of course,” Kay turns around to gesture a waiter to make their way over, pointing at your plates.

‘There’s nothing but death.’ You avoid looking towards the opposite end of the banquet; the faces of the two buttonmen so clearly engraved in the back of your mind.

‘I can’t be here with them. I just can’t.’ Taking a deep breath, you manage to calm yourself down as you get further away from the bustle and excitement of your gala and back up the elevator to your suite.

The further you get, the more at ease you feel and you know if you can just take a bit to yourself alone, you can manage and still make it down for the afterparty but right now you absolutely don’t want to focus on any part of the banquet and let your anxiety escalate.

‘At least Michael knows. At least he cares, or at least I want him to…’

After stepping out of the elevator, you’re quick to get back into your suite and quietly shut the door behind you.

You squeeze your eyes shut, letting out a sigh of relief as you take in the silence within the suite, the light scent of vanilla and lavender air freshener wafting around you, and the promise of a comfortable, luxurious suite room to rest in.

‘I’ll relax for a bit, it’s all I need right now.’ Setting down your clutch and slipping off your heels, you let your feet take in the comfort of walking over the faux fur rug before you begin to unclasp your earrings and take off your necklace.

Heading into the bedroom, you carefully set down your jewelry in the very box Michael gave them to you in upon the vanity table, knowing you’ll put them back on when you head back down for the afterparty.

You turn around to gaze at yourself in the full-body mirror diagonally facing your bed, stepping forward towards it and debating whether you should take off your dress as you run your hands over the satiny fabric.

You smile shyly at yourself, admiring the gorgeous, scarlet fabric and how it makes you feel both comfortable and beautiful, and you aren’t even the one to pick it out for yourself.

‘He picked it out for me.’ Blushing yet again over Michael, you move towards the closet and open it, pulling out a spare hanger from a dozen.

You’re careful to slowly strip out of your dress without stepping on it or wrinkling the fabric, hanging it up in plain sight inside the closet.

Only in your white lacy panties without a bra, do you take your nightgown out of your luggage and slip into it—letting the soft fabric wrap around you snug.

Walking barefoot out towards the kitchen, you glance at the refrigerator and wonder if you could find some wine before the rest of your food service gets here; perhaps something less expensive and luxurious but sweeter as you pass the time in your suite.

Just as you approach the refrigerator and reach out your hand to open it, you freeze. The sound of your hotel room being unlocked rings in your ears and you begin to listen intently.

Your heart skips a beat for just a moment as urgent questions rush through your mind; did one of Michael’s men mistake you for being at the party and are just making rounds to check for security? Does someone else have access to your suite that you don’t know about? Surely the room service would knock instead of intrude like this so suddenly?

Unable to react, your eyes land on the door and all you can notice is that whoever is opening the door is doing so quietly and with care without making a scene; almost too careful and eerie, the way an experienced thief would want to enter.

It’s only Michael Corleone.

Your heart flutters from the sudden but more than welcome surprise as a rush of butterflies swarms in your gut. Your blood rushes to your face, causing your cheeks to blush intensely.

As you see Michael walk in, you grip the handle of the fridge tightly in the reaction without opening it, seeing Michael’s eyes directly on you as if he wants to meet you in the kitchen right here and now.

You don’t even know what to say; frozen on the spot from a rush of emotions hitting you all at once—delight, pleasant surprise, is it so wrong to say? Is it wrong to think maybe this is all you could want?

‘Why here? Why now?’

“I didn’t anticipate you’d retire from the evening so soon,” Michael speaks in a low, velvety voice—enough to make you weak in the knees just like that.

Flustered, you attempt to speak back. “Only to catch my breath. I wouldn’t want to miss the rest of it.”

Michael refuses to take his eyes off of you as he slips his dress shoes off by the door. “So you plan on returning for the evening.”

Suddenly you feel naked before Michael’s eyes as he approaches you, already so vulnerable in nothing but your nightgown and panties.

The tips of your ears burn hot with blush as you find yourself all the more flustered, but you can’t tell if Michael’s noticed or paying attention to how you’re dressed since his eyes are locked with yours.

“I want to,” you say, breathily.

“Are you enjoying yourself here?” Michael stands only a few feet away from you in the kitchen now as you let go of the refrigerator’s handle.

“I’ve never experienced anything like this,” you shake your head.

‘Am I overthinking it all?’

“It’s breathtaking, but it’s all so new. I hope you don’t mistake me for being ungrateful to be here.”

“Not at all,” Michael replies dryly, “but I know why you’re here.”

‘What?’ It’s no secret to Michael from how rosy your cheeks are down to your body language reacting out of an arousal you’re desperate to hide.

You’re not so shy alone with him now; each and every muscle in your body desires Michael and is filled with passion.

The only thing that distracts Michael is how you tense up your shoulders from arousal, causing one strap of your nightgown to slip off of your shoulder.

You glance at the strap that threatens to slip off well past your arm, feeling practically naked before Michael and pulsating with warmth over your body from heightening arousal.

The sexual tension between the two of you standing in front of each other in silence builds to an uncontrollable level inside of you, building a delicious throbbing sensation inside of you.

You don’t know whether to beg Michael to take you on your knees here and now over the kitchen counter or feel embarrassed at what just happened beyond your control.

Michael takes a single step forward towards you and raises his hand towards the strap of your nightgown.

You assume for a split second he’ll only move the strap back up to your shoulder, but you feel the fabric of your panties beginning to cling to clit from the wetness pooling over it.

Michael keeps his eyes on you as he pulls the strap of your nightgown further with one little tug, causing it to slip off your chest almost entirely as your breasts spring free.

An inaudible “oh” escapes your lips as Michael moves his hand back down to your wrist, gently grabbing it and speaking to you in a demanding and firm yet soft voice. “Go to the bedroom, Marina.”

The fiery passion that courses through your entire body in a wave of heat is unexplainable—simply foreign to anything you’ve ever felt towards a man and only just on the physical level.

The arousal pent up inside of you tingles in your stomach, spreading up to your chest. Every inch of your body feels hot to the touch, your eyes solely focused on Michael and Michael only.

You feel as if your heart could burst out of your chest in this very moment, pulled to this man like a moth to a flame with an urge to let everything go—risk it all just to have his body pressed up against yours for a single moment.

It’s a gnawing hunger inside of you to crave Michael, seeing nothing but the idea and fantasy of having him all to yourself even if it could be just for one night.

All of you want all of Michael, completely and utterly insatiable. No other person or feeling could come close to taking you away from what you feel you’re about to have with this man.

Picturing Michael’s firm, big hands over your breasts is enough to send you into a state of ecstasy, let alone how he could pleasure you further and make love to you tonight if he wanted to.

The coolness in the suit brushes up against your exposed skin, hardening your nipples further than they already were from arousal.

“Go on,” Michael’s voice is lowered to a whisper as he gestures towards the bedroom.

Like clockwork, you do as Michael says without hesitation—feeling light on your feet as you make your way over to the bedroom.

You sense and hear Michael following behind at a close distance which makes your knees buckle a little as if they could give in from weakness at any moment now.

Each step you take only crinkles and pulls your nightgown down off of your body further, threatening to spill further down your hips.

When you enter the bedroom and move towards the king-sized bed, you hear Michael shut the bedroom door behind the both of you quietly.

You’re only able to take a few more steps closer to the foot of the bed before Michael grabs your wrist again, gently turning you around to face him.

Blushing furiously and dazed in spot, you watch as Michael raises his hand towards your chest, pausing for a moment.

Michael locks eyes with you as he asks, “Can I touch you?”

“Yes,” you breathe out, almost pleading for him to.

Michael places his hand over the fabric of your falling nightgown, so close to your breasts; his touch feeling electric and hot to the touch, everything you’ve ever wanted to relish in.

“Michael—”

“Take this off,” Michael beckons to your wrinkled nightgown.

‘He wants me to undress in front of him.’

Nodding shyly, you pull the nightgown down and off of you with ease, letting it slide down your thighs and pool to your feet on the ground.

Michael’s eyes beckon further as he speaks, eyeing your panties. “Strip.”

‘God…’

You slip your fingers into the band of your lace panties, almost trembling with excitement and arousal sparking through you as you pull them down your thighs and off of your ankles.

“Come here,” Michael beckons with his finger, wanting you fully naked up close and all to himself.

As you step towards him, Michael’s quick to wrap an arm around your waist and pull you closer to his body.

The fabric of Michael’s dress shirt rubs against your nipples as he tilts your chin up to face him. “How long have you wanted this?”

Your breath hitches as you attempt to respond, feeling Michael’s hand squeezing your right breast. Your eyes can’t help but watch him do so as Michael rubs your nipple in between his fingers.

“Tell me,” he presses; the look in his eyes a mix of desire and possessiveness.

��How can I tell him I’ve craved him since I first laid eyes on him?’

Michael already knows well enough. He admires how close you come to telling him the truth, but he wants to pleasure it out of you first.

“You are my governess. I hired you to work for my family,” he speaks, letting both of his hands roam over your breasts gently. “This is my gala, my hotel. It belongs to me, and now… so do you.”

Taking his free hand, Michael traces your bottom lip with his finger slowly. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? To be mine?”

To belong to Michael Corleone, to be desired in such a way that he possesses you as his… Nothing could excite and thrill you more; than the lure of everything he says.

Here is a man of power and wealth, Michael Corleone. A man who not only likes having control over everything in his life but ensures he does, and for those surrounding him as well. How can you ever be an exception?

“Always,” you answer back—no shame, nothing left to hold back.

You were his before he stepped into this hotel room before you undressed in front of him, and before he touched you.

Like every perfect fantasy you could ever have, it all plays out before you and you refuse to hold back in the heat of the moment.

“You are mine now, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” you whisper.

‘I am. I’m yours.’

“Get on the bed for me, sweetheart.”

Nodding shakily out of arousal, you crawl onto the bed on all fours—sitting in the middle of it completely naked.

Shivering, you look up to see Michael approach the bed, beginning to loosen his tie. “I want you on your hands on your knees.”

You do as Michael says, turning over to get your hands on your knees—arching your back, and feeling completely exposed to Michael.

You hear the soft drop of Michael’s tie falling to the floor and his suit jacket being hung over your vanity table’s chair before he kneels on the bed behind you.

“Michael,” you whimper out, feeling him so close to your body.

“Shhhh…” Michael whispers from behind, gripping your hips with both hands.

Your breath hitches as you squeeze your legs together out of arousal; completely naked and exposed for Michael with your ass and pussy in his face as both your hands clutch the duvet.

Michael’s hands are firm and needy but soft, holding onto you with possession as he speaks, “I’ll take good care of you.”

Michael begins to run his hands up and down your lower back slowly, tracing lazy circles.

A shiver goes down your spine as you give a small nod back, squeezing your eyes shut and simply relishing in the moment.

All the more erotic to you as you can’t see what Michael’s doing but Michael’s touch over your supple skin causes a passionate fire to course through you.

Michael’s eyes momentarily flicker down to your pussy as he sees a glistening wetness forming between your lips. Michael begins to move closer, tenderly yet lightly massaging your back.

“I want you to be honest with me, Marina…” Michael slowly pulls his hands back.

“Y-yes?”

Michael unbuckles his belt, tossing it to the floor, and unbuttons his trousers. “Are you a virgin?”

“Yes,” you answer honestly.

A brief silence falls in between the two of you and a sense of nervousness almost hits you off guard as you wonder if this is a good or bad thing on Michael’s behalf, but his next question catches you entirely off guard.

“You still haven’t answered my previous question. How long have you wanted this?” You feel Michael begin to mount you from behind, roaming one hand underneath you and down your chest to squeeze a breast while his other hand spreads your upper inner thigh. “Tell me.”

“I—” You let out a shuddering moan at the sensation of Michael’s thumb beginning to ever so slowly toy over your clit, now parting over your pussy lips and slightly beginning to spread you open.

“Be a good girl and tell me,” Michael leaves a hot, lingering kiss over your right shoulder.

Your legs quiver against Michael’s body as you say, “Forever.”

“Mm…” More than just content by your answer, it confirms everything Michael’s already thought about you.

Michael rubs your ass cheeks, giving them a light slap as he lets his erection spring free from his trousers. “I’m going to be good to you.”

‘Oh God, yes, please. Please…’

Michael suddenly grabs both of your thighs firmly, pinning you down flat on your stomach before gently flipping you on your back to face him.

Pushing away stray strands of your hair away from your face, Michael comes face to face with you, only wearing his half-buttoned, loose white dress shirt—stroking his cock in one hand while his eyes are locked on you.

The sight of seeing how fully erect Michael is before you makes your pussy throb from arousal; none of this is supposed to happen but the two of you have completely given into each other’s lust.

It’s the first time for Michael to feel such a powerful arousal take over him, barely having done anything at all with anybody.

Gazing down at Michael’s tip, you watch as his cock glistens with droplets of precum forming at the tip and beginning to ooze down his cock’s head.

Two veins run down Michael’s thick shaft circumcised and bragging just about eight inches.

Michael watches as you admire his body before you, noticing how the peak of chest hair from his half-unbuttoned shirt stands out to you; how smooth his milky, soft skin looks down to the muscles in his arms tensing from his rolled-up sleeves. Such a close-up of Michael’s toned, slim body…

“Let go and let me,” Michael murmurs, running his hands up and down your thighs.

Painfully aroused more than anything, Michael’s doing nothing but building up your arousal to the brim before he does anything else with you; especially concerned with your comfort and eager to get you as wet as possible first.

“You look incredible, you know that?” Michael begins to slowly spread your thighs open.

You blush furiously, momentarily turning your head away.

“Close your eyes,” he breathes, “and let me feel you.”

Doing as he says, Michael wastes no time in moving down between your thighs and placing your ankles over his shoulders.

Only with ever so slightly open eyes, hazed and dazed from the incoming pleasure do you watch Michael begin to tease and please you.

Michael leaves gentle, wet kisses up from your legs to your upper thighs but the closer he gets to your pussy, the longer he begins to drag out his kisses.

Dangerously close, Michael’s kisses grow heavier before he begins to sloppily suckle over the skin in the crease of your inner thighs.

A shaky moan escapes your lips as Michael truly lowers himself in, parting open your pussy lips with his fingers.

Michael’s slim fingers slick over your wet clit, up and down in tantalizing motions. It takes everything in you not to squirm from the pleasure over Michael’s shoulders, let alone vocalizing just exactly what this man is doing to you.

Michael changes his patterns, beginning to add two fingers to slick and rub in circles as he continues to kiss around your upper thighs.

You can feel your wetness doubling, trickling out of your pussy as you’re unable to take your eyes off of the erotic sight of Michael now grazing his tongue over your inner thighs.

Letting out little breathy moans, you gaze down at Michael with half-open eyes, gyrating your hips over his fingers as he continues to circle your clit painfully slow.

“I’m…” You moan softly, “I’m yours—ooh, I’m yours.”

Michael slowly begins to curl his index finger, snaking it inside of you. You whimper out of reaction, squealing as Michael adds a second finger and dips it in and out of you before momentarily popping them in his mouth to taste your sweetness.

Flustered and embarrassed, your eyes snap shut in response to Michael moving upward—tilting your chin with his free hand as his soft lips crush over yours.

Michael’s kiss grows needy and deep, joining his tongue with yours as you feel your clit almost swollen with arousal at his touch.

Stimulated so much, you feel an orgasm beginning to build from all the teasing and nothing more; rolling your eyes back in pleasure and picturing yourself bouncing over Michael’s cock.

As Michael lets go of tilting your chin, he pumps his cock at the same pace he fingers you in, readying himself for your orgasm knowing he hasn’t even scratched the surface of what he plans to do to you tonight.

Waves of pleasure hit you as filthy moans escape your mouth; melting around Michael’s dominance and giving in to him completely.

Through parted lips, Michael grunts; a look of yearning flickering in his hazel eyes that causes your shyness to spike up as the two of you make eye contact again.

Michael fully spreads your legs around his waist, pressing his hands down on both sides of the bed around you as he moves his head down and plans a sloppy kiss right over your pussy lips.

Wanting to sink into the bed out of shyness, the sight of Michael’s smoldering gaze between your legs is too much for you to handle all at once.

Taking your reactions as a green light, Michael darts his tongue up and down your clit, letting his bottom lip and mouth rest on the entirety of your pussy as he begins to eat you out.

“Oh—my God!” You cry out, watching as Michael slobbers over your pussy and slowly laps up your wetness with his tongue.

The sensation of Michael’s hot mouth over your pussy with his stubble brushing up against your clit is heavenly as he Michael keeps up a quickened pace, grinding his tongue against your clit.

You almost see stars from a delicious orgasm quickly building inside of you as Michael’s face is completely pressed into your sex.

Michael smirks at your juices beginning to trickle down your ass and thighs, pulling back just moments before you can reach an orgasm.

Whimpering out of breath, you watch as Michael kneels back up on the bed against your body.

Michael’s cock twitches against your pussy and your body desperately wants to cry out for him to fuck you; your wetness already beginning to ooze down and coat Michael’s shaft.

Michael’s eyes search yours for an answer, and you give him a shy nod of approval; forcing yourself not to fall apart at his touch.

“You taste so good, you know that? So sweet…” Michael begins to position his cock at your entrance, letting the length of his shaft slide up and down your slit.

“Oh G-God…” Your hips writhe against Michael’s in utter arousal.

“Tell me you want me,” Michael presses his forehead against yours, breathing deeply.

The sensation of Michael beginning to slowly enter you drives every sensitive, weak spot inside of you insane.

“I-I want you. I want you—" Your eyes flutter shut in response as you relax your muscles, desperately wanting every inch of Michael’s cock to fill you.

You feel your insides clench in erotic response to Michael’s perfect, naked body before you—feeling the shaft of his cock press over your soaked mound.

Just the touch of Michael’s tip against your clit alone sends fire crawling through your skin as you begin to wrap your thighs around his waist and bury your face into Michael’s shoulder.

“Good girl.”

You take in the heavenly scent of Michael’s cologne and his clean, supple skin as he keeps you pinned down in the perfect, folded missionary position.

Michael thrusts in ever so slowly and as you begin to feel an inch of him enter you, a slight burning sensation mixes in with a momentary sharp mix of pleasure and pain as you dig your nails into his shoulders.

“Oooh—”

“Baby, that’s not even half of me,” Michael whispers against your skin.

The feelings subside almost instantly with how wet and aroused you are and you feel your clit throbbing against Michael.

“Mm!” You feel all eight inches of Michael thrust inside you; his waistline coming into contact with yours as his cock fills you completely.

Hearing the wetness of your pussy begin to slosh against each thrust from Michael’s cock, you cry out in pleasure and frustration, “M-Michael! Oh!”

Michael’s quick to beckon the orgasm he refused to let you have earlier, feeling how your knees quiver against him as a sensation of numbness from your orgasm growing dangerously threatens to release.

‘In and out… In and out…’

Michael grips your waist with both hands, fucking you at a deep but slow pace to let his cock brush up against your G-spot while keeping a steady rhythm inside of you.

Legs wrapped obediently around Michael, you cry out as you watch Michael’s clock slide in and out of you again with ease.

“P-please, please—” Begging for release, you feel your pussy contracting against Michael’s member, your words half-slurred from the intense sensations racking over your body.

It’s then that Michael slows his thrusts to excruciatingly slow but teasing deeply, tilting his hips into you as he watches you squirm against his cock.

“Cum for me, baby.”

Cumming in an explosive orgasm, you clasp a hand over your mouth to muffle out your screams of delight.

“That’s right….” Michael places his hand over yours, gently prying it off your mouth. “Don’t be shy, I want to hear you. I want to hear how good I make you feel.”

“Y-yes sir—” You feel Michael’s hips quicken his pace, fucking you steadily once again as the moans that spill out of your mouth are louder and louder with each thrust. “O-Oh! Yes!”

Your legs shake against Michael’s shoulder blades; your arousal is only fueled further by hearing Michael’s breathy grunts and groans in between thrusts.

Michael thrusts upwards and steals another moan from you as you roll your hips back at him, desperately begging for each and every thrust.

The scent of sex fills the bedroom as Michael pumps in and out of your pussy, obsessed with just the way you remain obediently sprawled and submissive before him on the bed—taking in all of him.

Michael brings you to loud uncontrollable moans as he builds his orgasm with your next one, watching as your toes curl in response.

A sense of numbness tingles through your knees as your orgasm releases out of you in an instant, making you moan out in complete ecstasy.

Letting your climax unwind, you feel the warmth of your orgasm rack over your body from all sides as you cum over Michael’s cock.

Enthralled by every inch of you, you gaze out of half-open eyes to see Michael’s scouring over yours hungrily, filled with a deep, delicious desire unraveling out of him as his body trembles.

Your cries of pleasure echo throughout the suite room as Michael’s breathing deepens. He jerks his hips inside of you a final time before spilling his seed deep inside your pussy.

Your thighs quiver like jelly as you attempt to catch your breath, clenching your legs around Michael’s waist.

Michael’s once slicked back, neat dark hair now remains a messy, tousled mess sticking to his forehead from sweat; his eyes appearing as dark as onyx from the lighting as his body hovers over yours.

“Mm!” You whimper as Michael begins to slowly pull out of you, leaving you as dazed as ever from pleasure.

“They’re expecting me,” Michael murmurs to you as he reaches for his belt and dress pants.

“Y-yes…” You breathe out.

“And you,” his eyes flicker back to yours for a moment as Michael begins to get dressed before you. “I expect you at the banquet hall, but I won’t hold it against you.”

Licking your lips, you clench at the bedsheets to regain your balance and sit up. “What do you mean…?”

“If you can walk,” Michael gives your thighs a playful smack.

Blushing furiously, you avoid his gaze. “I…”

“You will speak of this to no one,” Michael’s tone suddenly grows stern as he smoothens out his dress shirt, beginning to button it back up. “And pretend each and every time that we’ve never spent this time together.”

“Every time?” You repeat, eyes widening.

“You are mine, aren’t you?” Michael tightens his tie over his collar.

“Yes,” you admit a little too gleefully.

“Then I will have you again and again if you’re willing to have me,” Michael slows down his movements, fixated on your response.

You nod back at him shyly, grabbing at the duvet to cover your dignity.

“I’m going to enjoy our arrangement, Marina.” Michael finishes dressing himself, running his hands through his hair to tame it back neatly. “Only as much as you.”

“W-when…” You stammer, still catching your breath. “When will I see you again? Have you?”

“Have me?” Michael raises a brow, a ghost of a smirk over the corners of his lips. “You already have me, Marina. I will let you know.”

#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

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iriashouse · 5 months ago

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my roman empire of 2024 is Moth to Flame, like however i always end up re-reading it or looking at the highlights or screenshots i have from the first time i read it @melis-writes

#fanfic #the godfather #michael corleone x reader #michael corleone #ao3 fanfic #sonny corleone #al pacino

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chicoca · 11 months ago

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

Chapter one: amore mio aiutami /ao3

song: amore mio aiutami–piero piccioni

Warnings: Use of a degrading word

Words: 5.5k

Nina De Rosa -Daughter of Don Tommasino De Rosa and Valentina Parisi. Little sister of Simone, Florentino, and Calogero. -Born December 27, 1925 in Corleone, Sicily. You are an artist moderately recognized in Sicily. Since you were a child your poems and paintings have been praised by your family. Your mother, a writer with an anonymous signature, has instilled art in you. Being the only daughter of the Don, you have been spoiled and supported in all your passions. You meet Michael (Michele) Corleone in the winter of 1946. He is welcomed and protected by your father after murdering two men in The United States.

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The little snowflakes danced in the air in front of his eyes. His tensed body, his hand still feeling heavy, and the pain in his face kept him fatigued. The travel had made his mind a nest of noise. The sound of the wind, the sea, the voices, and the constant click clack. For a moment he thought he lost himself there. That’s how he felt after everything. So rushed, in the darkness of his boarding, only a man with a scar on his right cheek kept him company. His name was Emmanuele, a Don Tommasino’s capo, the man in charge of taking him to Sicily. They didn’t talk much, only what was necessary until they reached the small private airport run by “The Families”.

Similar to New York. Sicily was controlled by four main families; Quintana from Corleone; Indelicato from Palermo; Pentangeli from Partinico; and De Rosa from Bagheria–Corleone. Three of them were close to the Corleone family, mainly due to the alliances made by Vito. However, with Don Tommasino De Rosa the friendship was much deeper. Vito, a man of great values, always maintained his devotion to his friend, who helped him in his revenge and gave him and his family shelter in his homeland.

Michael must have been five years old when he met you for the first time. He wouldn’t remember you. You were just a baby in your mother’s arms, recently baptized. With your pompous dress and your blessed head, they named you goddaughter of Vito. At the celebration the children played, the adults drank and chatted pleasantly, and Michael remained silent near his father. You were close, you babbled charming your aunts, and you squeezed your godfather’s finger in your fist causing him to smile.

It was the only time you crossed paths, like two complete strangers who never thought about each other again. Until that winter, when Michael’s life began to change in a way he thought he could escape. Ambitions were left behind, because Sicily received him with the cold filling his entire body. The only thing he could think about was home, about returning, even though he knew it would be impossible. Now in solitude he refrained from letting himself be carried away by fatal thoughts. He concentrated on being rational, on getting to Don Tommasino’s house and finally resting a little bit.

Emmanuele took him in a car along uphill roads, entering a city of ancient architecture that immediately caught his attention. So different from his home, it caused a knot in his chest that he ignored in the face of the wonderful views. Snow covered the cobbled roofs of the houses, it made a small path on the side of the street covering the grass. Going uphill, Emmanuele told him that they would enter through the forest where Don Tommasino’s house was located in a wide rural villa. Michael stuck his head out the window admiring the cold green vegetation. He could see the small booths with armed men. They continued until they reached a guarded gate, upon recognizing Emmanuele the men opened it, revealing a big house. Michael didn’t show how amazed he was by the place. With a large garden that disappeared into a stone path at the back, the house was in the center of a captivating nature.

They got out of the car, where some soldiers approached to take out the little luggage that Michael was able to bring with him. Sally had little time to gather a couple of shirts, a pair of pants, and a belt. Still, he was grateful to have his coat in the face of the weather he encountered. He could feel the humidity of the plants sticking to his skin along with the snow that fell lightly on his hair. Fortunately he didn’t have to wait too long for the front door to open, inviting a homely warmth that he followed behind Emmanuele.

Inside a captivating melody sounds like a warm welcome that calmed his body a little. The entrance had a large room with a fountain in the center and a large staircase that leads to the second floor. Behind it a window looked out onto the back garden where he could see a table and a couple of people. From the hallway to the left, where the music was coming from, a man with a cane appears who smiles openly at him, extending his arm to wrap him in a side hug. Michael could feel the light squeeze of his hand against his back, feeling his weight fall gently on him. With two pats he separated to grab his shoulder.

“Michele! You have grown so much, boy. Let me look at that face… I’ll call Taza, you need to treat that” He gestured, moving his open palm pointing at his face. Emmanuele at his side just looked at them “I’m very sorry about your father. I wish him my best blessings. He will recover soon” Michael smiled at his words.

“Don Tommasino, I thank you very much for receiving me… Molto grato (I’m very thankful)”.

Don Tommasino hugged him by the shoulders, leaning lightly on him, and made him walk to the back to exit through a door that led to a terrace. There the wide views showed part of the city from above, although everything was covered by vegetation.

“I appreciate your words Michele. Because of the great friendship that I share with your father I give you shelter… Una casa (A house) You will be protected, Michele. I have sworn to your family that” Michael sat in one of the chairs, under the roof unlike the soldiers that guarded the place. Don Tommasino sat next to him “I like winter, you will like this place in the cold”.

Michael only thought about the summer and how at that moment he would be home again. He already missed everything. He felt the tingle of a sadness that penetrated his soul. At the same time, fatigue did not allow him to feel anything other than an emptiness. As if he was incapable of feeling.

“Mi piace l’estate (I like summer)” He said.

“Amerai l’estate. Anche se immagino che speri di tornare per allora (You will love summer, although I suppose you hope to return by then)” Michael nodded, sighing lightly.

“My italian… Il mio italiano non è cosí buono (My italian isn’t so good)” Don Tommasino laughed a little and patted him on the knee.

“Don’t worry about it, they will understand you. But you could practice it” Michael nodded again.

“Michele I recommend you use another name here” Said Don Tommasino

“I could use Andolini, my father’s enemies don’t know his last name”.

“Maybe it’s risky, but it works. We have a lot of Andolinis here” Don Tommasino assured

Suddenly, he noticed three men approaching from the side of the house. Don Tommasino quickly stood up to receive them. Two of them were armed with luparas and were wearing light jackets. Something unsuitable for the cold, thought Michael.

“Benvenuto Michele (Welcome Michael) I’m Armando Fusco, consigliere of Don Tommasino, a pleasure” The man shook his hand in greeting and continued to introduce the two men who accompanied him “These are Fabrizio and Calo, your bodyguards assigned from Emmanuel. They are loyal to the family, so feel comfortable” Emmanuel at his side nodded before his men.

Fabrizio smiled broadly at him and squeezed his hand in a cheerful greeting.

“America, America… Quanto è bello lì, eh? (How nice it’s there, eh?)” Calo, next to him, laughed at his friend and sat in front of Michael. Getting a little snow on his head, he didn’t seem to care.

“Vuole essere portato in America, è il suo sogno (He wants to be taken to America, it’s his dream)” Calo said towards Michael.

“These men have the job of protecting you. Don’t hesitate to ask them anything” Don Tommasino said, leaning on his cane, Michael could notice how one of his legs was tilting loosely “Now let’s eat something. Armando, please tell Calogero that I want to see him” With that, Michael got up to follow him into the house.

Following his pace, since Don Tommasino walked slowly, Michael held his hands behind his back and admired the place again. Noticing his observant gaze, Don Tommasino spoke.

“They shot me in the legs, kid” He pointed his cane at his shin “I saw you look at me, it causes curiosity… Always observant, Michele. You were like that too when you came here years ago, remember?” Michael nodded, matching his steps. They were walking towards the hallway where the music was still playing “You were very little, always near your father”.

His thoughts inevitably turned to his father, still having the image of his body in the hospital bed. He felt that if he concentrated enough he could feel the skin of his father’s forehead under his palm, in the caress he granted him when he promised to take care of him. He can still see the small tear that ran down his cheek when he had to leave him. The wave of sudden worry filled him for a second, barely letting him breathe. Without contact, he only had his own hopes as consolation.

“Amore mio, amore mio. Il… boy, Michele, è già arrivato? (My love, my love. Has the boy… arrived yet?)” A feminine voice called from the kitchen, where the aroma distracted Michael enough to notice his hunger.

Inside, the warm lighting opened the way to a large kitchen with a dining room included. At least ten people were able to sit comfortably at the table. All made of varnished wood. The kitchen had a lot of furniture and a counter that gave views outside. The woman, Don Tommasino’s wife, Michael assumed, approached, wiping her hands on her apron.

“Michele, my wife Valentina” Don Tommasino presented, making a gesture so that they would greet each other. Michael accepted the small hug and the kiss on the cheek. Suddenly she looked at him with concern.

“I’m sorry, Michele. Being raised in America, you won’t be used to it” She said in a slow english that Michael patiently understood.

“My father has raised me close to our culture. Siamo italiani, non pensare di offendermi (We are italians, don’t think it offends me)” Michael said quickly, the woman nodded.

“I have lunch ready. Meat well cooked the way my husband likes it. Take a seat, Michele… Our sons will be arriving soon, Tomy” Valentina moved to the kitchen to start preparing.

Don Tommasino sat at the head of the table and motioned for Michael to sit nearby, to his left. Michael sat comfortably, crossing one of his legs and leaning back.

“Where is Nina? She won’t have lunch with us?” Don Tommasino asked, thinking you would be in the house by now.

“She’s in town with Carolina, they’re buying shoes” Valentina responded with a shrug as she tossed the salad on the counter “She will probably eat with her” She said in english, as a courtesy so that Michael would understand.

“When she arrives let me know. I want to talk to her”.

Michael didn’t pay much attention to the conversation. He got lost in the food’s aroma and in his numb body. The only thing that brought him out of his little state was the voice of people approaching. In front of him three men, one in a police uniform and two in civilian clothes, entered, greeting the couple effusively.

“Mama! Che profumo delizioso (Mom! What a delicious aroma)” “Delizioso, ho fome, Mama! (Delicious, I’m hungry, Mom!)” “Papa, come va il freddo con quella gamba? (Dad, how’s the cold with that leg?)”

The men greeted their mother with a kiss, hugging her affectionately. One of them, the older, came up to greet his father and then looked at Michael shaking his hand.

“Simone De Rosa… You the guy from La America?” Michael nodded “Good, good, I know some english so don’t worry”.

“Parlo anche un po’ italiano (I speak a little italian)” Michael responded, aware of the other men approaching to greet him. Behind them Valentina brought the dishes.

“I’m Florencio. How was the arrival, eh?” Said the shorter one of them. The uniformed man also presented himself “Calogero” He said, shaking Michael’s hand after his brother.

“These are my boys, Michele. My daughter isn’t here, unfortunately, you will meet her later”.

“That girl Nina, tsk, tsk, tsk” Simone clicked his tongue “She’s been so busy these days. I’ve barely seen her” He complained while receiving his plate. Michael also received his, noticing how the brothers quickly began to eat.

“You have to understand her. With everything she has to do, we will see her very little” Said Valentina while sitting to the right of his husband.

“Your sister is doing something that none of you would do” Don Tommasino said as he poured the wine. Michael asked for just a little.

“We can’t do it, we are men” Said Calogero causing a disapproving look from his mother.

“We will not talk about your sister at the table. What she does she will discuss it with your father. Enjoy your food, you were hungry” She said, indicating with her fork.

“Well… Michele, tell us about America” Florencio seemed interested in Simone’s request.

“Better ask him something specific, boy” Said Don Tommasino while drinking his wine. Michael observed them with attention while eating.

“Come sono le donne? (How are the women?)” Asked Calogero causing laughter among his brothers “Scommetto che sono piccoli, magri, come nei film (I bet they are small, skinny, like in the pictures)” “Belli, sono belli! (Beautiful, they are beautiful!)” The brothers seemed to talk to each other without addressing Michael.

“Non potrei dirtelo (I couldn’t tell you)” That caught their attention, Michael continued eating.

“Non può? Cosa non può? è un finocchio? (Can’t? What can’t? Is he a faggot?)” Calogero said jokingly to Simone. However, his brother looked at him seriously and then looked at his father.

Michael didn’t feel offended about it. Understanding the man’s mentality he simply wiped himself with a napkin in silence. Don Tommasino, on the other hand, felt deep shame at his son’s behavior. Valentina blushed with the same shame and looked at her husband expectantly.

“Excuse my son, Michele. He is usually rude, something that embarrasses me. Please ignore his words… Calogero, we’ll talk later” With a passive tone of voice but with a hard gaze he continued to reprimand his son.

“Don’t worry. I have a brother just the same… I don’t have any comments about women, because it’s not an interesting conversation for me. They will be beautiful, for sure, as there will be many in other places” His monotone tone and expressionless look didn’t give Calogero room to make another comment.

Florencio, accustomed to his brother’s slips, drank wine and after swallowing he spoke.

“Old Frankie, how is he? Still under Clemenza I must assume” Michael tilted his head in interest.

“Yeah. Frankie, Frankie. We are good friends of Vincenzo. It has been a long time since we heard from him in La America” Simone said, taking the salad to serve himself in big portions.

“Yes, he continues under Clemenza, dedicated to the family” Don Tommasino clinked his glass with Michael’s and then raised it.

“For the family and the dedication… I want to make something clear to you three. Michele is my protégé, he is under our care until he can return safely to America. I know you know but I’ll repeat myself. I want total discretion, only those close to us can be aware of his presence. No one else will be told his name or anything about what is happening in New York” The brothers nodded at their father’s words.

“What about Quintana?” Asked Florencio.

“What about them?” Asked Don Tommasino.

“Our bond isn’t strong yet. The war is over but the tension continues. If they find out about Michele they can use it against us” Simone replied.

“They aren’t friends of the Corleones. They never wanted to establish any ties” Calogero added.

“Don’t worry about them. They won’t be a problem. Leandro as underboss will have the privilege of stopping anything. He knows what’s best for him” Don Tommasino said as he finished his plate “Now let’s give Michele some space. Love, can you ask Emilda to take him to his room? I need to go to my office, Calogero come with me”.

Don Tommasino slowly left the dining room accompanied by his son. His two eldest sons got up and said they would go outside. Valentina called Emilda and picked up the plates while Michael wiped his nose with a napkin.

Emilda appeared and kindly took him to the second floor where his room was, at the end of the hallway with a perfect view of the stream and the garden. His luggage was already on his bed, and after thanking Emilda he closed the door.

Finally alone. The first thing he did was take off his coat, leaving him in his dress shirt and trousers. Having the need to bathe, he went to the bathroom connected to the room. There was a long bathtub, long enough for him to lie down without any problems. He slowly took off his clothes, leaving himself completely naked. Waiting for the tub to fill with water, he went to look in the mirror where he noticed his paleness and deep circles under his eyes. But what caught the attention was his injury.

His skin was covered in a purple hue. The swelling on his jaw had gone down a little but it was still painful. In the night he felt it more, the pressure on his head when lying down made the pain intense. It provoked a rage that dissipated quickly when he remembered that McClusky was dead. A feeling of resentment that was only calmed by his committed revenge. He almost thinks about his father but stops as he presses his fingers against his broken jaw. He didn’t like how he looked even though he had seen several men who arrived in Sicily had injuries

The pain was a sensation already learned, almost purifying. The war hadn’t made him a stronger or wiser man. Sharing with men who died at his side didn’t make him more sensitive. It was fear that still disturbs his mind when he remembers the pain. And it isn’t a physical pain, it’s a pain of the soul, as if his heart were going to shrink until it disappeared. It was fear that made him learn. And now, with the latent pain on his face, he could only ask God that nothing would happen to his family. He would pray for it until he returns, he knows it when he sees that his injury would take too long to abandon him.

Noticing that the tub is already full, he slowly gets into it, covering his body in the warm water. He immediately feels his muscles relax against the surface, almost feeling like he’s sinking. Letting himself go, he takes a deep breath to submerge his head under water. Stretching his legs and using force with his hands to keep him from floating, he stays down holding his breath. It’s almost cathartic.

He holds on until he can’t take it anymore, getting out of the water quickly, overflowing the tub and wetting the floor. He runs his hands over his face without noticing that he is crying. He sinks again, and repeats that over and over again until his body becomes limp. Then he just looks at the ceiling without thinking about anything, letting everything happen until he almost falls asleep in the cold water. If it wasn’t for the soft touch of the door he would have fallen asleep lying there.

“Signor, Don Tommasino vorrebbe parlarle (Mr. Don Tommasino would like to speak to you)” Emilda’s voice wakes him up enough to sit in the tub.

“Andrò presto Emilda, grazie mille (I’ll go soon Emilda, thank you very much)” He heard her footsteps go away, he waited until he felt the silence to get up.

He couldn’t feel the passage of time, or even register his body temperature. The only thing he did was dry off and change into the few clothes he brought, and went downstairs to go to Don Tommasino’s office.

The office was very different compared to his father’s office. Where it was dark there, here was a large window that showed trees in the background. There was Emmanuele, Armando Fusco, Simone, Florencio, Calogero and other man Michael hadn't meet yet.

“I hope you had a good rest Michele. Come in, sit down” He closed the door behind him and sat in one of the chairs in front of the desk. Behind Don Tommasino was the unknown man, staring at him with such intensity that Michael couldn’t help but look back at him “Andrea smettila di disturbare Michele (Andre stop bothering Michael)... Don’t mind him. He just arrived and he’s very paranoid. Perfect for the job, eh?” The men laughed and Michael could tell that there wasn’t tension in the room. That made him feel more comfortable.

“You liked your room, Michele?” Don Tommasino asked. Michael nodded.

“Anisette?” asked Armando while pouring the cloudy liquid in small glasses. Michael accepted the glass and drank it along with everyone else.

“Well Michael, I called you because I want to tell you what a couple of things will be like here. We usually go to different areas of Sicily, meetings and things like that to maintain ties. Most of the time you will stay in the house with Fabrizio and Calo, but you can also go out to Palermo, once a week, you just have to not be identifiable. When I’m not here my men will be. Also my wife and daughter are always here too. The family visits us sometimes so you can meet them, if you don’t mind” Michael interrupted.

“Of course not” That made him smile.

“You are a good boy, Michele. Now let’s go out, it wasn’t that serious if you thought it was” Michael denied with his head while getting up.

“Hey! Papa! Are you in your office?” A female voice could be heard from outside, your voice.

“My beloved Nina, let’s go out so I can talk to her” He said as he walked with his cane towards the door. Michael could hear how you greeted each other in the hallway, your voices slowly drifting away behind the door.

Inside the men finished their drinks and got up to leave. Andrea, right hand of Don Tommasino and one of the capos, shook his hand in a firm squeeze that was intended to intimidate him. Michael appreciated the gesture, assuming that Don Tommasino’s safety was the man’s priority, he thought that this loyalty would be useful in the future.

When he left the office he noticed that the brothers De Rosa were still talking while they walked to the garden. Behind him Andrea told him to follow them because Don Tommasino loved sitting on his terrace, even if it was cold. As he moved forward he could hear your melodious voice, and like a song, he felt almost trapped in the curiosity of knowing what you were saying.

“... No, no papa, guarda. Oggi sono arrivati gli inviti, dobbiamo mandarli domani. Mi sto organizzando benissimo, credimi. Fidati e basta, andrà tutto bene (... No, no dad, look. The invitations arrived today, we have to send them tomorrow. I’m organizing this very well, believe me. You just trust me, it will be fine)”.

“Ma la mia vita, non sarà presto? (But, my life, won’t it be soon?)”.

“Ay papa, sta andando tutto bene, non preoccuparti (Ah dad, everything is going well, don’t worry)”.

“Sì papa, la ragazza sa quello che fa (Yes dad, the girl knows what she’s doing)”.

As he approached he noticed your back. Your figure covered by a long dark coat. He could only appreciate your dark hair and the movement of your hands. In front of you Don Tommasino looked at you attentively, with his eyebrows furrowed despite your words. Your brothers around you also listened but only Simone gave his opinion. Before Michael could make any gesture to indicate his presence, Andrea spoke.

“Signorina De Rosa, buon pomeriggio (Miss De Rosa, good afternoon)” That made you turn around.

If somebody asked Michael how silence is caused, he would have to answer that the body can only be immobilized with an overwhelming emotion. He could feel it in the impact of your eyes. But what a beautiful view that Sicilian winter brought. With cheeks flushed from the cold and eyelashes with little snowflakes. He didn’t know if it was just because you were beautiful or he had definitely gotten lost in your gaze. The tired body already forgotten was left behind the beating heart that deafened him.

Michael found himself standing with his heart beating faster than normal. He felt dazed and the blood boiled in his body. He could intensely perceive everything. He felt like he was in another world. He was struck by lightning. Don Tommasino, looking straight at Michael, could notice it, but he remained silent. The well-known lightning attack.

For you, the first time was a blast of warmth. Because of the open door and his presence, the light that illuminated his bruised face reflected a unique shine in his eyes. And what eyes! A deep brown that caught you like a careless prey. You’ve never seen eyes like those. So full of a story that you wanted to discover, an innate need to know everything that captivates you.

The silence was broken when you noticed that he brought his hand to his nose. Due to the blow, his sinuses were damaged. You knew that because your brother suffered the same thing due to a fight. Taking a handkerchief out of your coat, you approached him and offered it to him. A pale pink fabric with delicate embroidery that carries your perfume. Michael looked at the handkerchief and slowly accepted it, pressing it to his nose, immediately feeling the sweet aroma.

“Ciao Andrea. Sei Michele? Da New York? (Hi Andrea. Are you Michael? From New York?)” You asked, taking a step back, slightly losing the feeling of his closeness.

“Yes Nina, he’s Michael. Michael, my daughter Nina” Don Tommasino said, in the background your brothers talked.

“Buon pomeriggio, Nina… Grazie per il fazzoletto, io… I will return it to you after washing it (Good afternoon, Nina… Thanks for the handkerchief, I…)” Michael spoke english not knowing how to continue in italian. You smiled and with a gesture you denied.

“Don’t worry. I have more” You replied, he didn’t push it.

Still in awe of his eyes, you couldn’t help but take in everything, as if he were going to unexpectedly leave your sight. Michael wasn’t far behind, even with your handkerchief pressing against his nose, more because of your perfume than his rhinorrhoea, he looked at your face trying to engrave it in his memory.

“Well, I hope you like poetry Michele… Nina keep him company, Armando has a couple of things to discuss with me” Said Don Tommasino as he saw how his consigliere waved his hand from inside the house.

For a man with a cane he moves around quite a bit, Michael thought. Now with a bit of confusion in his eyes, he took a seat waiting for you to do the same. You, instead, watched your father walk until he disappeared on the way to his office. With your brothers talking to a couple of your father’s workers, you noticed that Michael was waiting for you. With a little shyness you sat in front of him, and remembered your father’s words.

“What about poetry?” He asked you.

“Oh! I’m a poet and a classical literature teacher. He’s quite proud of it, that’s all” Michael noticed how you squeezed your hands and rubbed them.

“Poet, how interesting. How do you write it?” You didn’t know if he was really interested in talking about it, but like any other enthusiastic person, when you had the chance to talk about what you love the most, you couldn’t contain yourself.

“I couldn’t explain it. It's just. Mmm… It flows from me, you know? You don’t have something like that?” You asked.

“Something like that?” He took a moment before continuing “I don’t think so, what emanates from me doesn’t cause any art” That intrigued you.

“And what emanates from you?” If he could answer honestly he would. But he saw a very pure curiosity in your eyes.

“Some things” He said, looking away from you to admire the garden. The snow was no longer falling, however, the place was still covered in white.

“You are quite a mysterious man, don’t you think?” You said with a smile that almost caused him to imitate you, but he remained expressionless.

“I don’t think so. You are an artist, though…” You looked at him inquisitively “You are more likely to share your thoughts”.

“That 's true. I have always been a transparent woman”.

“Just like your brother” He said, looking at Calogero.

“Oh, you already met him, eh? Don’t mind him, he’s always had a sharp tongue, always getting in trouble” You pointed at Michael’s jaw “Someone broke his jaw one time, for insulting a Quintana”.

“What did he say to deserve that?” He asked, leaning against the chair, looking comfortable in his clothes.

“He said some things about Don Quintana’s daughter, may she rest in peace. It was very unpleasant. My mother slapped him when he arrived” Michael nodded. Your brother looked like the kind of man who made those mistakes.

“Is he a lieutenant?” You quickly denied at his question.

“He is a carabiniere. He likes to be one, he always wears his uniform” You both looked at him from a distance. Calogero was adjusting his sleeves while laughing at something Florencio said “Are you a lieutenant?” Michael looked at you again.

“I’m a marine” You raised your eyebrows at his response.

“You went to war? For America?” You asked, resting your chin in your knuckles. Michael lowered his head a little.

“Yes”.

“Your father supported that?” You noticed how his gaze intensified.

“No, he didn’t like the idea very much. But he couldn’t do anything against it, not at first” You wanted to ask him more, so you didn’t stop. Now feeling more comfortable you relaxed your posture.

“He did though” You assumed “You have medals?”.

“Yes, I have some” His calm voice contrasted with your animated one.

From the outside it seemed that only you were paying attention. But Michael, from his passivity, was completely focused on you.

“Did you leave them in America? I’ve never seen one. Why do you have them?” You almost thought he was getting bored of your questions, but he smiled as if he remembered something good.

“Extreme bravery beyond the call of duty” The tingle of remembered adrenaline kept his smile on his face.

“So that emanates from you… Are you an altruist?” Michael thought deeply about your question, before he could answer you talked again “I know what you did in New York”.

“Do you? And what does that answer to you?” He asked, wanting to know what you would say.

“I think you are… Many men kill in the name of their Don, even sons kill for their parents. But one thing is to kill and another thing is to accept what death entails. You are here, very far from home. And when I look at you I know that this isn’t what you would want. That’s why I think you are” Michael took your words in and nodded slowly, he didn’t think the same.

“And you’re perceptive, I guess” That made you smirk a little.

“I usually observe everything, it helps with writing”.

“What else helps you?”.

“I have a place, a special one. It's outside, passing that fence, see?” You pointed where the stream disappeared between the trees “There I write and read, I go when it’s not so cold”.

“Why that place?” It encouraged you that he asked you so many questions.

“It’s beautiful, it’s like it’s from another world. Sometimes, when the sun goes down, the leaves create some rays that reflect in the water. When I look at that I get inspired” You brought your hands to your chest, squeezing your palms. Oh you wished it were summer.

“I-...” Michael was suddenly interrupted by a voice calling your name. He could notice your eyes changed in the way your eyelids moved.

Recognizing that voice you stood up awaiting his presence. From the side your brother Simone appeared with a tall man in a fitted and expensive suit. Michael saw how he approached you, taking your hand to give it a soft kiss.

“Michele, this is Leandro Quintana, my fiance” The only thing Michael could notice was how you didn’t look him in the eyes again.

CHAPTER TWO

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

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