lovefoxgoddess

Latest Posts by lovefoxgoddess

LADY GAGA ✝ ABRACADABRA (2025)

THE GODFATHER (1972) dir. Francis Ford Coppola.

I fell off my chair, girl, the wait was worth it!🤗🔥😱

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.”

IM GOING TO KISS AL PACINO LIKE THE WOMAN IN THIS PICTURE (i’m a girl)

The Other Woman girlies... For how long it's taking me to get out chapters (and in the past too) all I'm saying is... y'all will forgive me for good with this next chapter because my. God. The smut. The sex. The passion. The scandalous, sinful lust between Michael and Marina in this hotel bed? JUST YOU WAIT. 🥵🥵🥵

Chaos Coming!!!

Kay finds out Marina’s having an affair with Michael and confronts her (real 4K video, 100% real)

say hello to my little bubbles

It would be weird to like getting a kiss of death from michael, I feel like I'd die happy.😶👆

al & bob are REALLY out here spreading seed like they are 25 again....DAMNNN i wish it was with me tbh. 😏😏

new conspiracy theory unlocked: al pacino and robert de niro both had/are having babies soon bc the children are actually clones of themselves and they planned the scheme together so that al pacino and robert de niro's visuals never die

give that man a Mrs. Corleone!😍😭

Mr. Corleone is finally HERE!! 😩😍❤️

And he looks soooo perfect next to my Godfather collection!! 🥹🫶🏻

I’m still waiting on a nice black suit to arrive for him and a new head! Not that I don’t like his current head but I found a much realistic version with Michael’s hair slicked back differently and it looks fine as hell. 🥴

Replaced Michael’s hands with the more detailed and realistic hands that came in before Michael did. 😂 I really love these hands. The finger proportions are amazing. I also think Michael’s skin tone matches better with these new hands too. As you can see, Michael’s holding his old hand in comparison to his new ones. 💀

It appears the only downside to the new hands is that Mr. Corleone’s wedding ring doesn’t fit! 😭😔 Michael’s deep in thought as to what this all means now.

Details, details! This is a lovely blue suit with high quality fabric. I can’t wait to see how good he’s gonna look in a classic black suit, though! 🖤

I don’t think I’m ever gonna shut up about my Michael figure, so be on the look out for more posts of him. 😂❤️ He will sit on my shelf and occasionally my work desk to judge and ponder upon me. I still have a bottle of whiskey that will arrive for him to hold and have a drink from too lmfao.

Al your troll king! 🤣

Can you do Victoria facefucking Michael? Please 🥹🥹🥹

Don’t mind if I do. 🥴 🥴Definitely gonna see more of this filthy, dirty smut in the canon fic too. 🥵 Let Don Corleone please and tease Victoria again and again…!

Don't Hold Back.

The sounds of moaning in ecstasy can almost be heard out into the hallway of your estate, amplified and coaxed out of your mouth against your control with each flick of Michael’s hot, wet tongue slicking over your clit.

Burying his face into your pussy like a man starved, Michael laps up at your sweetness—letting your wetness smear over his mouth and dribble down his chin.

“O-Oh my God,” you let out a shuddering gasp through another moan, moving your hips back and forth to grind your clit over Michael’s tongue in a steady rhyhym.

“Don’t hold back, baby,” you had heard Michael whisper more than once inbetween your inner thighs orgasm and after orgasm.

Eager to tease and please you until you’re crying out Michael’s name again and again—out of breath, shaking, panting and unable to take any more, Michael keeps his hands clasped over your thighs.

With your hips pinned down onto Michael’s mouth, the intensity of your approaching orgasm only doubles building in your gut from feeling Michael’s nose grind against you clit tingling from arousal.

“Michael,” your bottom lip trembles as you hear Michael groan out against your clit—keeping his mouth open and tongue suckling over your clit relentlessly. “Ooh—yes! Yes!”

Michael’s hands rub over your thighs, caressing them tenderly before he smacks your ass—insisting you go faster.

Michael’s cock throbs, oozing with precum down his shaft at the arousal he gains from feeling orgasm after orgasm coming from you into his mouth with no intention to stop.

‘Faster, faster…’ You bite down on your lip to muffle out your moans to no avail, rolling your eyes back from the heavenly sensations racking over you again and again.

As you speed up, you feel your wetness easily gliding over Michael’s mouth as his tongue explores inbetween the folds of your pussy.

Michael gazes up at you with half open eyes dazed with lust—squeezing your ass harshly. Your breasts jiggle against your chest with how fast you gyrate your hips against Michael’s tongue.

Michael drools over your pussy; his hair tousled and a mess over the bedsheets from the heated session—enjoying the view from below and the taste of your cum over his lips.

“Gonna cum, gonna c-cum again—” You whimper, clenching the bedsheets so harshly that your knuckles strain white. "Oh, baby, please! More!"

You hear Michael quietly chuckle to himself, grinding his stubble against your clit just to watch your squirm over him and your thighs shake against his head.

“Fuck! Oh, Michael, Michael! Michael!” You shriek, unable to stop yourself as you feel your orgasm beginning to release squirting out of you for the fourth time tonight.

Michael in a brothel has to have a good reason.💀

One might ask themselves for the next chapter of Moth to Flame Part II: “What the hell is Michael doing in the front row of a private club with Rita Duvall putting on an erotic show?”

Well, what Victoria doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right? 😶😅

Anyway, cheers! 💀💀💀

Happy Birthday Al Pacino!!!

Thank you for being what you are. happiness to my favorite actor!!

it's you, me, victoria all of us we yearn for this man.🔥

omg. i feel sick. i don’t remember this😭😭😭😭 my ears are bright red 😭😭😭😭

Yes, because Rita was playing with fire, she should have known that Vic is the daughter of a Mafia family, she is not just any women! she should have known the consequences of wanting to provoke a Mafia's wife! 👀

I can't wait!🤗🥵

One last scene or should I say a loving smut scene 🥵 and Chapter 3 of The Other Woman will be finished!! 😌❤️🙏🏻 I’ve been working on the fic all week and I’m super excited to have it up soon! Looking forward to probably finishing up editing and wrapping it up by Thursday at the latest. 😍

Michael and Marina’s story will continue!! ❤️❤️❤️

It was really amazing!! You deserve Melly for being the author of this wonderful story!!!🤗

Victoria and michael corleone from moth to flame by @melis-writes

_________________________________________

Song : cherry by lana del rey

____________________________________

Al pacino | michael corleone

Monica Bellucci | Victoria Ferrari corleone

_________________________________________

(fuckin obsessed with these 2)

_________________________________________

why does copola torture us like this? we need it for scientific purposes now!😥✊

I dreamt that I saw some deleted footage of The Godfather Part II where it was just Michael in that grey silk suit laughing, smiling and having a good time and then taking a cozy nap and I was going ballistic that this actually exists (😭😭) and then Francis Ford Coppola himself told me “yeah well I had to delete it out of the film because it’s not in Michael’s character to do that” like. Okay. Yes, I get that but CAN I KEEP THIS FOOTAGE FOREVER??? 😭😭😭❤️

pouting for Michael 💕😚

Monica Belluci in La Riffa (1991)

Very Anxious!

The next, upcoming chapter of Moth to Flame: Part II will be up… TODAY (11/22)!! 🤩🥳

With the amount of detail in our newest plot which focuses on the skeletons in Victoria’s closet… well… 🥴 just be prepared for the biggest plot twist Moth to Flame as ever had. Shit is about to get real. 💀

Victoria reaction:

Chapter 2 of Moth to Flame: Part II is coming and it’s COMING SOON… So whose ready to see Miss Rita Duvall doing a strip dance naked in front of Michael?? 💀💀 I refuse to spoil anything further but that part just does it for me. 😂

One of the things I definitely want to focus on in Moth to Flame Part II is just the domestic aspect of everyone’s life. 💗 Sure, we always get plenty of drama, smut and angst 😂 but also more on the outfits Victoria wears, the recipes she cooks at home (and how) and even the daily chores around the house!!

OK! Pinch me because I'm dreaming!!!! I love you!! Part II here we come!!

MOTH TO FLAME PART II ANNOUNCED & COMING SOON!

It’s official, I’m continuing my Michael Corleone x Reader smut fanfic “Moth to Flame”!! Say hello to Moth to Flame: Part II! 😏❤

The news that you didn’t know you needed or was coming, but it’s here!! 🤩🙏🏻 37 chapters and 8 oneshots later in the fic, Michael and Victoria’s story is far from over and I’m continuing it!

AO3 | MASTERLIST | THE MAKING OF MOTH TO FLAME (I) & (II) | FIC PLAYLIST | PROMPTS | SMUT PROMPTS |

I know what my readers want and have definitely been paying attention to what everyone’s requesting and wanting to see especially through oneshot feedbacks and constant Victoria x Michael prompts in my inbox. 👀

That’s not to mention the fact I’m already well through the process of planning out an entire new plot arc for the fic that couldn’t ever fit into a single oneshot, let alone 5+. 😅

1956 canon year, baby Vincent’s birth, and a whole lot more of the drama, angst and smut I know you guys have loved throughout the fic. 🤗💞

As for the two endings? Sure, they could apply if you wish. 😌 Or you can just ignore them entirely. 😂

👀 What will we see in Moth to Flame: Part II? 👀

Let’s just say Victoria Ferrari Corleone has her own dark secrets that she’d never want revealed to the light of day…

More of Connie and Leonardo’s marriage and relationship.

Baby Vincent’s birth with Michael and Victoria’s adjustment after the attempt on Victoria’s life by Kay.

Central themes of forbidden love, jealousy, blackmail, betrayal, distrust, secrets, impact on the Corleone and Ferrari family reputations, and murder.

A revenge arc with a new character (and a returning one nobody ever expected) that will pull on heartstrings, cause rifts, distrust and ultimately lead to more tragedy.

A focus on Michael and Victoria’s romantic, sexual and marital life.

More of the twins growing up and their personalities forming.

More holidays and family time spent with the Corleone’s such as Father’s Day, etc.

More of Victoria’s family and brothers.

👀 How many chapters?! More than one ending? 👀

We’re looking at about 11 new chapters so far (maybe more, maybe less, we’ll see!) because as you know, I may always increase/decrease that depending on how the plot goes. 🥴😂 

There will be one canon ending only. 👁👁 Love it or hate it, it’s bound to be the most thrilling and exciting end to the fic yet.

I don’t like to say “never again”, but I do think this will officially mark the end of “Moth to Flame” for good. 😌❤ I’ll still be uploading new fics including new multi-chapter Godfather fanfics amongst other oneshots but will of course remain heavily focused on Moth to Flame Part II first. 😛

👀 When is the first chapter of Moth to Flame: Part II coming out? 👀

I’m going to try and have regular fic uploads on Pacino Saturdays 😂❤ but please keep in mind I don’t have a rigid schedule for any fic uploads. Life and work also keep me busy but I love to post regular updates of how chapters/fics are going, especially if they’ll be uploaded earlier or later than expected. 🙏🏻 Pls respect this. 🥺 Amidst balancing other fics and prompts, as much as I love writing I don’t work under pressure and definitely don’t want to come down to writer’s block or a burnout doing what I adore. 💔

The first chapter is coming out hopefully by the end of next week or maybe earlier!! 🤞🏻

Our girl boss! 😍🤩😎

Moth to Flame [Michael Corleone x Reader series, 18+ Smut] Oneshot – My One and Only.

Read on AO3 / Chapter Masterlist. / Fic Playlist.

Oneshot based in 1957 (canon year of the fic's storyline).

"I guess I couldn’t let you and Michael enjoy the party all alone." / "I just made sure she was afraid of decomposing in the back of somebody’s car anytime soon so that’s why she kept her distance."

1957 marks seven years of prosperity at the Tropigala, a casino-resort under the Corleone family's ownership. Flying into Las Vegas to celebrate the milestone with Michael, all eyes and cameras are on the both of you alongside a luxurious welcome. As a time to relax and enjoy the weekend getaway with your husband, you look forward to the entertainment the celebration has to offer with excitement until you come across an unwanted and uninvited guest. It's been two years since you've last seen Rita Duvall–Fredo's past favourite ex-cocktail waitress, dancer, singer, actress and notorious mobster seductress. Two years ago, Rita was serenading Michael for his attention until threatened off by you, and this time she knows she can get a reaction out of you that you won't exactly be able to live down.

[WARNINGS]: Heavy, rough smut / Love marks & hickies / Oral sex / Dirty talk.

[AUTHOR'S NOTE]: Requested by a beloved anon as a prompt, I accidentally found myself making this into a full sized oneshot! 😳 Oops. 😅 Just loved the idea of a jealous Victoria, mentions of trust issues due to Michael's lies in the past and reassurance play the central themes here in this oneshot! For those of you wondering, I've included the idea/concept of Victoria's evening dress and day dress she wears in this oneshot HERE, whereas you guys remember the scene of Michael "eating" that orange in the second film? 🥵 That's his whole look from head to toe here. 🥴 I've included plenty of Michael GIFs to get everyone's imagination going this oneshot and as anon requested, the best angry sex Michael and Victoria have ever had is in this oneshot!!

1949. Your name is Victoria Ferrari, and you’re the only daughter of one of the most powerful mafia families in New York—the Ferrari’s. When the Ferrari family began to gain heavy influence and power, it struck a power imbalance with the Corleone’s. To bind the families together as one in an offering of peace, friendship and business, you are to be married to their youngest son, Michael Corleone. As you ensnare yourself in the life of a mob wife by Michael’s side, what you don’t know is his old ties with Kay Adams, your best friend from Dartmouth, and that he returned from Sicily a widower. A ruthless mob boss to be, you unravel Michael’s dark past and the brutality that has changed his personality. You find yourself adapting to your new life, betrayed by those you love most, and in high profile to Ferrari and Corleone family enemies. Falling deeply in love with Michael, you enter a life and marriage filled with secrets and darkness. Bearing his children, supporting his crime empire and following him into the shadows, you’re unable to deny your passion and desire to the new Don. When it comes to Michael Corleone, you are but a moth to a flame.

[ Las Vegas, 1957 ]

“I feel like with each annual celebration, it just gets more and more grandiose just to impress you.” You giggle, hugging Michael’s arm as the two of you enter the Tropigala accompanied by Ritchie Nobilio and Al Neri for security.

“Consider me impressed,” Michael says back sarcastically, wrapping his arm around your waist as photography cameras instantly begin to flash in both of your faces.

For the sake of publicity knowing you’ll both be on the front pages without a doubt tomorrow morning from attending such an event as the owners of the Tropigala, you and Michael stop by the photographs and allow them to snap a few pictures.

There are all smiles from your end as photographers call, “Mrs. Corleone, over here!”, “gorgeous dress tonight, Mrs. Corleone!”, and “welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Corleone!” amidst other humble requests for photographs at different angles.

It only takes one nasty “that’s enough” look from both Al and Ritchie for the photographs to finish up and step back, allowing you and Michael to comfortably enter the dining hall. 

“Johnny Fontane, all of his dancers, more performers…” You point out, letting your eyes wander over the band stage in awe, “ooh, fancy, fancy.”

“Johnny wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Michael only turns his head to the side to spot Johnny in the midst of singing a melodic tune to a crowd of admirers at the very front of the stage.

“He renewed his contract with us?” You ask, walking with Michael towards the VIP section of the dining hall where your reserved table is with Michael.

‘Us.’ It can’t please Michael more to hear you refer to the Corleone family business as “us” and not just Michael and his brothers. You are a Corleone wife after all.

“He did,” Michael confirms, letting his hand linger over your waist before the two of you part and sit across from each other at the reserved table. “And he’s been renewing it for the past seven years—him and his friends from the movies both.”

“Mm, that sounds like Johnny alright.” You smile at Michael, propping up your elbows on the edge of the table and resting your chin over the back of your hands. “He’s made the Tropigala his own world.”

“Brings him and brings us good publicity, just as Pop would have wanted it.” Michael relaxes in his seat, smoothening out his black mohair suit before pulling out a pack of cigarettes and his cold encased lighter. “We’ll see him soon tonight.”

“And until then…” You peek down at the menu card placed in front of you on the table, eyeing tonight’s refreshments and meals. “We’ll make the best of everything.”

“If you want anything changed or substituted, let me know, darling.” Michael gestures to the menu, taking a cigarette out of his pack. 

“Did you have a say in this?” A playful smile forms over your lips as you read French champagne, a bottle of Barolo—Italian red wine—from 1931 from the refreshments list alone.

“Our presence has a say in this.” Michael glances towards the menu. “They want to impress us through everything tonight and more so in specific, you.”

“Me?” You blush, meeting Michael’s eyes again. “And not the illustrious Don Corleone who owns the very building we’re in?”

“Depends who you ask.” Michael puts his cigarette in the corner of his mouth, opening the cover of his lighter. “All eyes are always on you during events like this and I’m always aware. Everyone wants to see Mrs. Corleone.”

“By everyone, I hope you mean just them.” You chuckle, turning your head towards a photographer who snaps another picture of the two of you sitting before Al almost swats the camera out of his hands.

“I won’t let them bother us tonight, darling.” Michael lights his cigarette, taking a small drag. “And we’ll be in our hotel room before the end of the event. Johnny’s estimated to perform until at least 2 AM.”

“Fine by me.” Your cheeks sting with blush as you watch Michael smoke his cigarette across from you; his eyes still over yours and his plush lips holding onto the end of his cigarette as he blows out smoke underneath him. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Corleone,” a waiter approaches your table with a polite smile, extending his tray towards the table before setting down two glasses of sparkling water, two flutes of champagne, and two empty wine glasses with the bottle of Barolo.

“Thank you.” You show your appreciation towards the waiter as he pulls off the cork on your wine, beginning to fill both your and Michael’s glasses halfway through.

Michael remains quiet, continuing to smoke until the waiter sets the wine bottle down on the table and walks back off into the dining hall—leaving you and Michael alone.

“Before I get a good start though,” you chuckle, eyeing the champagne and wine—wondering which you should have a little taste of first—“would you excuse me for just a moment, baby? Going to use the restroom.”

“Of course.” Michael nods back at you, holding his cigarette in between two fingers. “I won’t have our dinner service start until you get back.”

“Don’t miss me too much.” You tease, rising from your seat and smoothening out your dress before grabbing your clutch purse.

You head out of the dining hall and make your way to the women's washroom nearby, adjusting your diamond earrings at the same time.

Humming quietly to yourself, you push open the doors and instantly pick up on the scent of sanitation, perfume, and general cleanliness in the marble-decorated and spacious bathroom.

You glance to your left towards the stalls only to see one is occupied before moving towards the grand set of mirrors by the sinks.

You set your purse down next to you and open it, reaching in to grab your favorite crimson red lipstick.

You pull off the cover of your lipstick, lean in towards the mirror, and apply a light yet fresh layer over your lips to perfect your pout before the majority of the celebration for tonight begins.

You hear a flush of the toilet from the preoccupied stall behind you and only a few seconds pass by before the door is pushed open.

You continue minding your own business, pressing your lips against one another and double-checking how your lipstick appears under the light—completely unaware of who else is in the washroom with you.

Rita Duvall, notorious for her private performances, exotic dancing, and singing amongst many other vibrant talents around Mafiosi and corrupt businessmen and lawmakers alike, steps out of the bathroom stall in a satiny, scarlet-draped dress.

Out of your line of sight, you remain satisfied with your makeup for tonight and lean back—twisting your lipstick back down before clasping the cover on it and putting it back into your purse.

Rita doesn’t need to approach the sinks to know you’re here in the washroom with her; she knew it the moment she heard a pair of stilettos accompanied by your favorite, signature floral perfume she’s only ever smelt on you.

Still, you’re preoccupied with the items in your purse, now grabbing out your perfume and setting it down on the counter just as Rita begins to approach the sink next to you.

“Well, well, Victoria Ferrari Corleone.” A wry smirk grows over Rita’s lips as she sets her matching red gloves on the counter. “Not so much of a surprise now, is it?”

“Rita,” you acknowledge—instantly annoyed but hiding it over your expression and body language very well as you glance at her. “I could say the same for you.”

“Expected me, hmm?” Rita turns on the sink tap, beginning to rinse off her hands. “I guess I couldn’t let you and Michael enjoy the party all alone. Who else would provide the entertainment?”

“Johnny Fontane is doing just fine in terms of tonight’s entertainment.” You reply, diverting your attention back down to your perfume bottle.

“Oh, I’m aware.” Rita chuckles, lathering soap over her hands. “I’m hoping I get a moment to speak with him tonight, I think the Tropigala would be very lucrative for my career.”

“If you think you can just ‘show up’ to one of my casinos, resorts or hotels to ‘perform’ and have it your way, you’re very wrong.” You state, spraying some perfume over your collarbones.

“Oh, it’s yours now?” Rita throws her head back in laughter. “Don’t make me laugh.”

“You’d be surprised.” You’re not phased by her immature antics, putting down your perfume bottle. “It’s public record. Even a waste of talent like you could ask one of your mobster boyfriends for some proof.”

“Hmm, yeah.” Rita washes off her hands, turning off the sink tap. “Maybe you’re right about that. I should ask my newest one about it as soon as I can—that husband of yours. Michael fucked me so good last week, after all, I should really catch up with him.”

Holding back any reaction whatsoever, you place your perfume bottle back inside of your purse, but can already feel the tips of your ears and the nape of your neck prickle hot at Rita’s words.

Rita lies to you on purpose—she hasn’t been able to personally approach Michael let alone go anywhere near him since the family celebration you two held at the compound over two years ago, but anything to get a reaction out of you when it comes to Michael more than pleases Rita.

“In what, your wildest dreams?” You roll your eyes, smoothening out your hair. “Another fantasy of yours?”

“You wish, sweetheart.” 

Rita holds up her wet, left hand in front of you—pointing to her empty ring finger. “Maybe I’ll be just as lucky as you one day, dazzled out in diamonds and custom-made perfume. Michael’s told me how much he wants to spoil me.”

“You’re pathetic.” You close your purse, holding it between your arm. “And clearly in need of some help. Those daydreams of yours are starting to heavily impact the intelligence you barely have.”

“Aww, are you jealous of me, sweetheart?” Rita puts one hand on her hip, facing you. “Upset that your husband, your brothers, in-laws, and all can’t get enough of me? Am I taking the spotlight away from you just a little too much?”

“I don’t even waste my time thinking of someone as low as you.” You begin to walk past her, “and if I were you, I’d behave instead of acting like a spoiled brat obsessed with storytime. I own the building and my security knows what to do with unwanted guests and their chatty mouths.”

“No amount of fancy perfume you wear is going to mask out my scent on Michael, Victoria,” Rita calls out behind you as you begin to exit the washroom. “And you can wear all the pretty lipstick you want but every time you kiss him, you taste my pussy on his mouth.”

Frustrated to no avail and almost shaking with anger, you pull yourself together and take a deep breath—making it your sole mission just to get back to the dining hall before you decide to redecorate the Tropigala’s washroom with red.

‘Why the hell is she even here? Whose the one planning all this ‘entertainment’ and having that woman at our hotel?’

Before you even get back to your reserved table with Michael, you approach your personal bodyguard—Ritchie Nobilio—at the end of the dining hall whom you don’t bother to greet but rather hand him your purse.

“Mrs. Corleone.” Ritchie blinks, holding onto your purse.

“I’m going up to my hotel room now.” You state firmly, making it clear to Ritchie that nothing can change your mind. “You can let Michael know, and tell him he can continue the dinner service and eat here by himself.”

“Right.” Ritchie frowns, clearing his throat. “Will do, Mrs. Corleone.” He reaches into the pocket of his dress suit, handing you his spare key to the hotel room. 

Without another word or glance to Ritchie, you take the key out of his hand and walk out to the hallway as quickly as you came out of it to get to the hotel suites.

‘If she’s planning on going near Michael tonight and he lets her, who am I to interrupt or do something? I’m done, I’m sick and I’m tired of these party tricks.’ 

You want to be better than your anger but when it comes to Rita Duvall, everything hits a personal nerve. 

‘This woman only stays in Nevada just to spite me. There’s nothing she does but spite me and let her sick fantasies roam free in her head about my husband. That’s it. That’s all there is to it, and I’m supposed to believe Michael isn’t aware?’

This woman has the ability to be where you are because although you detest her and Michael could care less about her, she’s a pretty little thing your brothers and brothers-in-law are used to seeing, and Mafiosi from the other crime families love the comfort of a charismatic, beautiful woman surrounding them.

‘I want an explanation as to why the hell Rita’s here and I want it from Michael—nobody else. Has he seen her? Has he? I wouldn’t be surprised.’

You’ve seen all of Rita’s dirty, cheap tricks and it isn’t uncommon knowledge she’s an escort too—something you could care less about but she’s been in Fredo’s bed on more than one occasion while he was married to Deana and it’s how Rita’s always been able to get favors and gifts. 

“You taste my pussy on his mouth!” 

Something like that affects the family in the worst kind of potential scandal possible, and you know Rita does it because she can and to purposefully spite you, knowing you get jealous over Michael, but Deanna never had a shred of jealousy towards Fredo.

‘Michael wasn’t with me last week.’ You pick up your pace, just glad nobody else is in the surrounding hallways as you get onto the elevator. ‘He was at a business meeting with Don Cuneo in Reno. Another casino-resort. Do I have to guess who was there too?’

“Michael fucked me so good last week after all.”

“Mr. Corleone?” Ritchie approaches your reserved table, catching Michael’s attention. “Sir, I wanted to inform you Mrs. Corleone is retiring for tonight back to your hotel room.”

“What?” Michael stares at Ritchie, unamused. “And her reason?”

“She just approached me and wanted me to notify you, sir. She didn’t give me a reason.” Ritchie gestures to your purse in his hands. “She was visibly upset and didn’t want to return back here for the dinner service either.”

Michael’s eyes flicker around the dining hall as his shoulders tense up. “Did you give her one of the suite keys?”

“Yes, I did.” Ritchie answers. 

“Stay here.” Michael gets up from his seat, looking towards the end of the dining hall. “I’m going to go see her.”

“If anyone questions your absence, sir?” Ritchie stands next to Michael’s empty seat.

“You can tell them to stop asking questions they aren’t entitled to.” With that, Michael turns on his heel and comes out of the dining hall undetected—going towards the hotel suites. 

This isn’t a “convince me to come back downstairs” type of anger you feel but one of the only times you feel is too much of a difficult mood to get out of.

As soon as you got up to your hotel room, you kicked off your heels and went straight for the bedroom where you slipped out of your black, cocktail dress and took off your full set of jewelry with your hands shaking in anger.

Before Michael made his way to the suite room, you pulled on your bathrobe—otherwise just in your matching black bra, panties, stockings, and garter belt and fixed yourself a glass of sparkling water.

Having wiped off all of your makeup and now sitting on the edge of the king-size bed with your back towards the door, you mentally scold yourself for feeling so upset and off the edge from Rita trying to get a clear reaction out of you.

Knowing you’re inside and otherwise waiting for a reaction out of Michael this time (or so he assumes), Michael calmly approaches the suite door and unlocks it with his key before stepping inside.

You hear Michael enter and ignore him—your mood already ruined, your expression glum as you stare into your glass of sparkling water with a million questions buzzing in your head that rotate around one in particular: what the hell does this woman want with me and my husband?

With your back turned to Michael, you can hear him enter but you don’t turn to look at him even though his eyes are on you. 

“Wish you’d join me downstairs for the night we were supposed to celebrate together,” Michael speaks, stepping out of his dress shoes.

“I’m not in the mood to be convinced.” You mumble back, sipping your drink. “But don’t let me ruin your evening.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you do no such thing.” Michael approaches the doorway of the bedroom. “You left me downstairs and now I find you up here. Ritchie won’t give me any reasons why and so we’re back to playing the guessing game.”

“No, we’re not.” You narrow your eyes, turning to face Michael. “You know why I’m here.”

“Victoria, to be frank with you, darling, no, I don’t.” Michael eyes your bathrobe and your dress for the evening hung up by the closet. “What exactly could happen to you for a few moments in the restroom for you to storm off like this?”

“I’d ask myself the same thing, but I know better.” You scoff, “your favorite plaything approached me in the washroom—that’s what happened.”

“My…what?” Michael furrows his brows. 

“Rita Duvall, Michael.” You snap, “come on, seriously? You didn’t see her at all here?”

“No.” Michael stares back at you. “I wasn’t under the impression she would even be here, to begin with.”

“Must be your special invite.” You roll your eyes, almost spilling your drink entirely when setting it down on the nightstand. “Because she definitely seemed invited, very grateful to you which was all she talked about. Why do we even need to have this talk? Why do I have to repeat to you that I DON’T want to see that woman?!”

“You don’t,” Michael answers plainly, stepping into the bedroom. “As I said, I wasn’t aware of her presence here although I’m not surprised.”

“You’re not surprised?” You scoff, crossing your arms. “Of course, you’re not.”

“I mean our invited guests are allowed to bring one other person with them. You can play your guessing game with which mobster decided to take her out to the best hotel-casino in Nevada.” Michael shrugs off his suit jacket, neatly setting it aside. “There’s your explanation, though I’d hope you wouldn’t let your anger have you jump to other conclusions.”

“God, Michael…” You shake your head in disbelief, “why are you talking down to me like this? You think my reactions are unwarranted?”

“I do because it seems to me like petty jealousy.” Michael stands by the foot of the bed. “I don’t know this woman, I don’t speak to her, I don’t go near her, and yet when you hear her name or you see her, you become—”

“I become what?” You interrupt, your eyes challenging Michael. 

“You become jealous.” Michael finishes his sentence. “And that’s why I believe your reactions are unwarranted. They make no sense, they’re not based on any foundation.”

“I guess I was just dreaming at our family party at Tahoe when she came to rub your shoulders and serenade you.” Your eyes begin to sting with tears. “How she sang to you, kept her eyes all over you no matter where she was and now she walks up to me in the restroom and tells me how good you fucked her last week, how every time I kiss you, I taste her pussy on your mouth?”

A look of disgust crosses over Michael’s face, but it’s not at all enough to convince you. “I’m tired, Michael! I’m tired!” Your voice breaks. “And yes, I AM jealous! I am! I am because I love you because I don’t want to share you! I want to be selfish with you because you’re my husband, my life partner, my best friend, and the father to my children. Why would I want some sleazy whore getting comfortable with you? Thinking she can show up to our parties just like that? Talk so casually about having sex with you. You give absolutely no reaction and you leave me without answers—I don’t know who to believe anymore!” 

You throw your hands up in the air, getting off the bed. “What do I have to do?! Do I have to threaten to leave you again so you stop fucking playing around with this ex-cocktail waitress?”

“You’re accusing me of cheating on you?” Michael scowls at you. “Start listening to the things that are coming out of your mouth, Victoria, and don’t make me repeat myself.”

“I’ll do you a favor instead!” You burst out into tears, pointing a shaky finger at Michael. “Because believe me, a divorce would make for a much less impactful scandal than if you’re caught and on the front page with your face buried between Rita’s—”

“ENOUGH!” Michael snaps, slamming his hand down on the dresser next to him as hard as he can. “Enough! I won’t hear any more of this! I’m not cheating on you. I never have and I never will—what part of that is so difficult for you to comprehend, Victoria?!” Michael lunges towards you, grabbing your hands into his. “What have I done that even I’m not aware of that’s abused your trust? Hmm? I wish I knew for once why it’s so easy for you to accuse me without any proof.”

“You wouldn’t leave p-proof,” you hiccup, beginning to sob.

Although seven years have passed, when it comes to women like Rita Duvall, the concept of jealousy, the fact you know your brothers themselves whored around before they settled down, and Michael’s own brothers continuing to be unfaithful to their wives after years of marriage mix in with the bitter memory of when you thought you were Michael’s “other woman”, being cheated on when you discovered Michael kept his first marriage away from you.

Your trust issues and fear of being cheated on spike up when all of those memories come to mind and make you think: how am I any different than these poor women who experienced unfaithfulness?

“That’s not your real reason, is it?” Michael looks you in the eye. “What is it, Victoria? What actually has you so dead set against me from the beginning?”

“Your brothers cheat.” You croak out, noticing confusion in Michael’s expression. “They cheat… All of them e-except Tom and he isn’t even—” You hiccup again, “they cheat all the t-time and it’s become so normalized I forget it’s even happening in f-front of my own eyes. I’m surrounded by it and this woman is obsessed with you—who am I not to be cheated on, Michael? Tell me!”

Michael lets out a soft sigh, not indicating he’s just about done having this conversation with you nor is Michael going to go off on a tangent to explain to you that he’s aware of his brothers’ promiscuity and cheating habits but he’s a different person altogether.

No, Michael understands exactly where you’re coming from and what you mean. 

Just as you remembered the fear that gnawed over your heart when you assumed for just a moment that Michael was being unfaithful to you when you discovered his wedding photographs with Apollonia, Michael is still aware the memory remains bitter; it stings and it made the topic of faithfulness and cheating extra sensitive for you.

“You’re my wife.” Michael reaffirms, giving your hands a gentle squeeze. “You aren’t just somebody out there and you never will be. Do you think women like Rita challenge that? Change that? Who is she to stand before a woman like you? Do you ever think about that?”

You sniffle, remaining quiet and gazing into Michael’s eyes as you begin to feel the warmth of reassurance.

“I love you, Victoria,” Michael states, looking you in the eyes. “I love you and only you and that’s why I only want to deserve having a woman like you as my life partner. Last week I was in Vegas, yes,” he nods, “but I was with Don Cuneo at his private residence. We only visited another one of our establishments briefly. Photographs were taken at both places and there was no entertainment. Not a chance anyone else would be there—Rita or not. I can prove this to you easily. I can have a third party prove it to you too if you don’t want to hear it from me.”

You let out a deep, shaky sigh, nodding glumly at your husband. “A-and what about that first time? When she was at our estate performing and…” You grit your teeth, feeling a rush of anger accompanying your jealousy. “Singing to you, touching you.”

“Victoria, it was nothing.” Michael shakes his head as you let go of his hands. “It’s what she does, that’s how she gains attention. I ignored her, gave her no attention whatsoever, and then she left—”

“No, she didn’t!” You raise your voice, breaking into tears again. “She only backed away because I threatened her afterward, otherwise why wouldn’t she return to serenade the Don—the man who hired her band—and give him extra attention all throughout the night?! I just made sure she was afraid of decomposing in the back of somebody’s car anytime soon so that’s why she kept her distance. Don’t you ever lie to me!” You point an accusing finger at Michael. “Don’t you ever lie and say that you ‘ignoring’Rita’s antics was the reason why she avoided you. Because you didn’t do anything in the first place, she’s now vocally fantasizing about fucking you!”

“Victoria, for the love of God what do you want me to do about that now? What in all honesty can do or say to change all of this for you? Tell me something.” Michael begins to grow irritated.

You wipe your tears off of your cheeks, shaking your head. “Nothing. Nothing… It’s all done and over with now as you said anyway. Just nothing.”

“You’re not upset about that or what happened today.” Michael takes a step towards you as you turn your back on him. “You’re jealous. I know you.”

“Yeah, I bet you do.” You hiccup, saying so sarcastically. “Maybe I am… So just let me be jealous in peace if it bothers you so much.”

“It doesn’t.” Michael places both of his hands over your hips, pressing his chest against your back. “You don’t think I feel the same way when I see how men flirt with you? How their greedy eyes look all over you?”

“You’d never admit to being jealous.” Your tears stop as you continue wiping your face off with your hands.

“I would admit to being a lot of things.” Michael embraces you from behind, pushing back a curtain of your hair over your shoulder to kiss the nape of your neck. “You’re not upset with me right now. That’s completely different. We don’t have to go back downstairs, you know.” Michael’s hand feels at the plush fabric of your bathrobe.

‘God…’ You mentally scold yourself for finding yourself instantly aroused by Michael’s touch and his breathy, low voice speaking to you now.

“You want attention, that’s all.” Michael’s already got you and your jealous fits figured out. “You have me here with you, so why not admit to that too?”

“Mm, I don’t think so.” Feeling like you’re the one calling the shots tonight, you pull away from Michael’s embrace and shrug off your bathrobe, letting it fall off your shoulders and to the floor.

Michael’s eyes instantly dart up and down your body, admiring every inch of you from top to bottom—especially paying attention to the way your garter belt adorns your thighs, how the silky smooth fabric of your stockings shines under the bedroom light, and the lace of your bra and panties clinging to your skin.

“I already have my own ways of relaxation for tonight.” You clear your throat quietly, purposefully crawling over the bed to tease Michael and give him a full view of your ass. “Since you don’t want me—"

“Who said I don’t want you?” Michael instantly presses one knee down on the bed, grabbing you by your hips as you squeal out before he pins you face down on the bed. “Hmm?”

“I don’t know.” You hide your grin against the bedsheets, arching your back against Michael’s growing erection. “Maybe you were just showing me it all evening.”

“Not a chance.” Michael grips a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back abruptly but not enough to hurt. “Trying to tease me now because you want the attitude fucked out of you?”

“You don’t deserve me.” You tease, reaching your hands back to teasingly inch off your panties.

“I think—” Michael almost tears off your panties entirely, throwing them off your ankles. “You’re just begging to have the attitude fucked out of you.”

“Definitely don’t deserve me—ooh!” You let out a soft moan as Michael gives both of your thighs a firm smack, running his hands in between them.

“You and your attitude—” Michael keeps you pinned onto the bed by pressing his hand onto your back with one while he unbuckles his belt with the other. “Are only going to get you so fucking far, Victoria.”

“Try me.” You challenge, looking over your shoulder for a split second to see Michael’s fully erect cock spring out of his dress trousers.

“Shut up.” Michael turns your face away from him much to your pleasure before raising your hips up to his waist. “You don’t think I know all of your little dirty tricks?”

“I think you’re more jealous than me.” You say back, gripping onto the bedsheets.

“Say that again.” Michael presses his shaft against your pussy, feeling its dewiness drip over his cock as he pushes it in between the lips of your heat.

“Oh—” Your eyes snap open, feeling intense arousal crawling through your skin. “I w-will.”

“I don’t think so, not like this.” Michael eyes your body as your thighs begin to shake a little over the bed; he’s barely done anything to you yet and you’re already throbbing and extremely turned on.

In truth, you’ve absolutely no desire to fight back against Michael but rather want to get the attitude fucked out of you over and over again under Michael’s dominance—the best way he can make up anything to you tonight.

“Say it.” Michael grips your face roughly, tilting your chin up but he doesn’t give you the chance to reply as his lips crush over yours in a sloppy kiss.

Droplets of precum begin to slick down Michael’s shaft as he bucks his hips, teasingly pressing the tip of his cock against your pulsating clit.

“Mmm,” you let out a muffled moan, unable to answer Michael.

“Can’t talk back to me now, huh?” An aggressive and demanding Michael is more than welcome to you now.

Michael pulls back, spreading your ass cheeks apart with both hands before leaning his head down and breathing hotly over your sensitive clit. “Talk. You want this, don’t you?”

“Mmmmm, yes!” Your knuckles turn white from how harshly you clutch the bedsheets. “D-deserve it! B-because you don’t deserve it!”

“You don’t think I deserve you?” Michael narrows his eyes, refusing to wait for a reaction or reply of any kind.

Instead, taking you by surprise, Michael plants a sloppy, full-mouthed kiss over your clit—suckling over it.

“Oh, YES!” You cry out, clasping a hand over your mouth almost instantly.

Ignoring you, Michael clutches harshly onto your ass to keep your legs spread—the feeling of his warm, wet tongue licking over your clit sending sparks of pleasure inside you.

You pull your hand off your mouth, rolling your eyes back to feel Michael’s mouth slobbering over your pussy and lapping up your wetness with his tongue.

‘Worth. It!’ Whiny little moans escape your lips as Michael doesn’t relent in his pace, now grinding his tongue and lips against your sex.

“M-Michael, Michael—” Face flushed scarlet and moaning out your husband’s name as your body begs for more, Michael keeps his teasing at it should be—sweet and short.

Michael parts his tongue away from your pussy slowly, a string of spit separating from his mouth before he 

pulls you back over to him by your hips. “What was that? Hmm?”

“Maybe you should…” You breathe out, looking back over your shoulder to challenge him once more. “Just give up already. Go and fuck Rita—do yourself a favor and leave me alone so I can go find someone else—”

Michael clasps his hand over your mouth, instantly silencing you as he scowls. “Shut the fuck up.”

Not only does his irritation build from how serious your tone of voice sounds but also from how difficult you’ve been acting towards him. 

“You think that’s what I fucking want, hmm?” Michael roughly shakes your face, bucking his hips up instantly and impaling your pussy with his cock.

“Mm!” You moan loudly against Michael’s hand before he pins the side of your face onto the bed—still keeping his hand right over your mouth to keep you quiet.

“Find someone else?” Michael grunts, thrusting deep inside of you with no mercy—pushing all eight inches of him in. “I’ll teach you to listen to listen to the things that come out of your fucking mouth.”

‘Oh fuck, yes.’ Desperate to feel Michael’s cock going in and out of you, you push your hips back against his but you’re easily overpowered by the position he has you in.

“I’m going to ruin you,” Michael breathes out, gripping your ass and slamming into you again and again.

The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room as Michael’s cologne and your perfume mix around one another, accompanied by the scent of sex.

Just from the angle Michael fucks your pussy in roughly, you can already feel a powerful orgasm being coaxed out of you.

As you peek back at Michael, you only meet his narrowed eyes and as if to punish you for looking back, Michael instantly picks up his ruthless pace while fucking you.

“You’re mine.” Michael leans down, hissing in your ear before wrapping a firm hand around your throat. “Mine.”

Not even halfway through being fucked into a state of bliss, you’re already feeling the heights of euphoria have the best angry sex of your life with Michael.

Michael feels your pussy humming and clenching against him as your orgasm continues to build still fucking the ever-living life out of you by the minute.

The bed begins to shake, causing the headboard to rattle against the wall as Michael pounds into your pussy like a wild animal over and over again.

Your moans grow louder and more desperate, calling out Michael’s name several times to feel more and more.

Fucking you like a ragdoll fully under his dominance, Michael notices how your ass cheeks redden from hitting his hips at such a rough and quick pace. “You want this, huh? You fucking love it. You love being fucked like a dirty whore!”

“Y-yes!” You can barely even nod back at Michael, only focused on how your body begs for his cock to fill your hole again. 

“Every other man can fucking dream,” Michael slams in and out of you mercilessly, “because you’re mine, and nobody else will get to do this to you.”

You shriek out, brought to loud and uncontrollable moans. “Please, please!”

Michael’s hair once neatly slicked back comes apart from the heat and friction surrounding you two; his hair now begins to curl against the sweat forming on his forehead. “Now she knows how to beg, huh? How sweet.”

Ignoring your pleas for more, Michael raises your ass upwards and watches his cock slick in and out of you as fast as his hips can possibly thrust. 

“Fucking. Whore!” A low moan comes from Michael who jerks his hips and hits your G-Spot consecutively. “You love taking in my cock, don’t you? This is how you wanted me to shut you up?”

Being fucked into nothing but pure bliss, you gasp out and curl your toes in response to feeling Michael cum inside you—still refusing to slow his thrusts.

“Just as you should be.” Michael squeezes the sides of your throat, “filled with my fucking cum, thinking over everything you said twice.”

Just the sight of Michael dominating you and taking control from behind turns you on like none other—now grabbing onto the headboard to hammer inside of you.

“Gonna cum! I’m g-gonna cum!” Your eyes prickle up with tears from how good every sensation flowing inside of you is.

The very mention of your orgasm approaching causes Michael to fuck you even harder, as rough as he can be—turning him into a wild man. 

“Who would have known—” Michael breathes, hearing his cock sloshing into your pussy. “That the little slut needed my cock to shut her up?”

“Mmmm!” You let out a weak, out-of-breath giggle. 

“You love arguing with me, I know you do.” Michael pushes your face back down on the bed, taking all of his sexual frustrations out on you. “Now you can’t get a single word out, can you?”

Having Michael constantly in his state of stern calmness and coldness to all fucking you this rough, sloppy, and relentless is heavenly and only adds to how severely aroused you are.

The pressure of your orgasm builds up in your gut almost unbearably so; your clit is engorged from being stimulated as Michael’s manhood comes in contact with it with each thrust. 

Your breasts bounce against the bedsheets as Michael becomes so lost in you that he’s thrusting harder than ever without losing his rhythm, now utterly oblivious to his surroundings or anything else.

Unable to take any more of your orgasm edging with Michael cumming inside of you a second time, you scream out Michael’s name as you cock your head back and feel your orgasm rush through you.

Michael licks over his lips, keeping you pressed up against his body to ride out your orgasm as your thighs shake uncontrollably against Michael. “Did I say you could cum?”

“M-Michaellllll,” you whine, feeling both of Michael’s hands cupping your breasts. “I-I couldn’t—”

“Couldn’t what?” Michael tilts your chin to face him directly, looking you in the eye. “Couldn’t do what you were told?”

“Oh?” You giggle, clutching onto Michael’s shoulders and holding in your whimpers as his cock is still buried deep inside of you. “You’re gonna punish me for that too?”

“What use is a punishment if you beg for it?” Michael squeezes your breasts together. “You like being fucked this hard, you like edging out your orgasm, and you love getting spanked.”

“That doesn’t stop you, does it, Don Corleone?” Attempting to catch your breath, you let yourself fall back on the bed with Michael’s arm around your waist.

“Don’t say stupid shit like that again.” Michael hovers over top of you, placing a finger against your lips. “Or I’ll make sure you can’t sit for a week straight.”

“Mm,” you pout back at Michael, running your hands up and down his biceps. “Don’t threaten me with a good time now, baby.”

~

“Mr. and Mrs. Corleone are preoccupied with business matters at the moment and do not wish to be disturbed” generic excuse also served to be the perfect lie for last night as even though you and Michael had the best angry, make-up sex of your lives, the two of you decided to go at it for two more rounds before retiring for the night and without thinking twice about returning to the party.

Of course, neither you nor Michael made the dinner event downstairs an entire waste by not attending, since Michael had room service bring up the entire meal service to the suite—including the full bottles of champagne and Italian wine.

The official celebrations won’t exactly be “over” until the two of you make the drive back to Lake Tahoe, meaning photographers and overly curious journalists (especially from your early absence last night) will be more than glad to accompany you for breakfast.

Sore as ever and snuggled up on Michael’s chest all night right up until the alarm goes off at exactly 7:00 AM.

All it takes is Michael slamming his palm down on the alarm and almost sending it flying off the nightstand (and causing you to giggle as a result) to silence it just to spend a few more minutes cuddled up naked in bed with you.

“Mm, I think we have a problem, Don Corleone.” You can barely hold your giggles in as you trace lazy little circles over Michael’s chest.

“And that is?” Michael’s muscles relax into the bedsheets as he rakes a hand through his messy bed hair. 

‘My God…’ Your eyes gaze up at the smoldering sight of Michael naked, one arm propped up against the mattress with his other hand stroking through your hair gently.

“Too sore, might not be able to sit up at all.” You laugh quietly against Michael’s chest. 

Michael chuckles—his morning voice deep and still laced with some sleepiness as he kisses your forehead. “Appearances matter, Mrs. Corleone.”

“Using my own words against me, huh?” Grinning, you bite down on the corner of your lip and slowly begin to sit up in bed.

“Mmhmm.” Michael’s eyes flicker down to your exposed breasts before meeting your eyes again. “Neither of us is going anywhere or doing anything until we shower at the very least.”

“Then the world can wait for us.” You lace a hand with Michael’s, tugging to get him out of bed.

“The world doesn’t have a choice.” Michael chuckles breathily, throwing the covers off of him.

You already know if you take another peek back at Michael that you may as well just go for another three rounds just at the sight of your naked husband alone.

“You have to promise me one thing though,” your usual enthusiastic tone returns to you this morning as you and Michael enter the spacious hotel bathroom.

“After last night, I’m the one making promises?” Michael pulls aside the shower curtains, angling the shower head towards the wall.

“Why not?” You tease, removing the protective cover off of a new toothbrush by the bathroom sink. “This time I think it’s one you can definitely keep.”

“Very funny,” Michael comments, adjusting the shower water. “Let's hear it, then.”

“I want to gel your hair before we go downstairs for breakfast,” you blush, squeezing some toothpaste over your toothbrush.

“Because…?” Michael pulls the shower curtains shut halfway, still walking around the bathroom completely naked before opening up a cabinet to grab some towels.

“Because I want to, that’s my reasoning.” Giggling, you look into the mirror and can see Michael towards the back of the bathroom as you begin to brush your teeth.

“I won’t object to that.” Michael sets down two fresh bathrobes and an additional pair of towels for his and your hair over the bathroom counter.

Michael embraces you from behind and plants a warm kiss over the side of your neck as you continue brushing your teeth before he grabs the second, new toothbrush and begins to do the same.

Blushing, you finish up and wash off your toothbrush before pecking a kiss over Michael’s cheek and hopping into the shower first. “Mwah.”

“Mm.” Michael watches as you step into the shower, letting the hot water rinse over your naked body—particularly over the hickies trailing around your back, over your ass, and above your sex.

“Come onnnnn,” you call out, purposefully keeping the shower curtains open a little for Michael to see the water running over you.

Michael rinses out his mouth, cleaning up and setting his toothbrush aside before approaching the shower. “Insistent, are we?”

“Come in!” You pop your head out, giving Michael a wet kiss and trying to pull him inside.

“You come to me.” Michael pulls you into his arms instead as he gets into the shower, causing you to squeal as both of you are caught under the hot water. 

“Mm, you don’t give me a break, do you?” You wrap your arms over Michael’s shoulders, standing under the water with him.

“Over just what, exactly? Maybe I like to keep you on your toes.” Michael steals a kiss from his lips; the water soaking through his dark hair.

“Over looking like this all the damn time,” you whine quietly, reaching for a bottle of shampoo—unable to ignore the way the water runs over Michael’s chest, clinging onto his chest hair.

“Haven’t seen yourself lately.” Michael grabs your ass with both hands, pulling you closer to him. “You know, the freshly fucked last night and soaking wet look is a good one on you.”

“You’re gonna tease me this early in the morning?” Your cheeks flush red from embarrassment as you.

“Can’t get enough—” Michael kisses in between your breasts, making momentary eye contact with you, “—of you.”

Shyly gazing up at Michael, you let out a shaky breath. “Definitely teasing me now.”

“I know I’ve got your attention.” Michael gently tilts up your chin with his finger, running his thumb against your wet bottom lip. “Just as I had it last night.”

“Not upset, are you?” You bunch your soaked hair up in your hand, pulling it over your shoulder. “About what I said…?”

“Should I be?” Michael sighs in relief under the running hot water.

“Certainly gave me a reaction.” You watch as Michael works his slim fingers through the shampoo he’s slathered in his hair.

“You’re the only person on earth who gets a ‘reaction’ from me.” Michael lets the water rinse through his hair. 

“But even then you can hide it well, huh?” You smile playfully, making sure to get shampoo through the ends of your hair.

“See, you have your answer.” Droplets of water land over Michael’s eyelashes as he lets the hot water drip down his naked body. “It generally had me upset, yes, but I knew you didn’t mean it. As you never do.”

“Oh?” Your eyes widen in surprise. “And you know this how…?”

“Because,” Michael watches water run down every inch of your skin under the showerhead with him. “Had you been upset enough with me, we wouldn’t have slept together, but I wouldn’t let you go to bed angry with me.”

“I know.” You pout back at him, squeezing the excess shampoo out of your hair. “At least you wouldn’t have to ‘play the guessing game’ with me about it anymore.”

“I know how she makes you feel, baby.” Michael begins to foam up some body wash over his arms and chest. “I don’t want you to come close to feeling those same emotions again. At the very least, nothing near what you were saying last night.”

“Just to get you turned on and jealous.” You squeeze the loofa in Michael’s hand, causing more of the frothy body wash to drip over his chest. 

“It did something,” Michael still wouldn’t admit to being jealous outright, pressing his chest against yours and closing off any space between the two of you. “It made you sore, it made you beg.”

“What’s a girl supposed to do?” you blush furiously as his hands roam over your breasts, sharing the body wash with you. “You know just how I like it.”

“Rough,” Michael states out, gently caressing and soaping up your body against his. “Soft, sensual, just about anything there and in-between.”

“Show me something else tonight when we have the chance to sneak away, hmm?” You teasingly suggest, watching the way the water dribbles down Michael’s plush lips and chiseled jawline.

“I can promise you that already, baby.” Michael leans in for another kiss.

Depending on both of your daily schedules regardless of where both you and Michael are, there’s always an insistence on joining one another in a shower or a bath.

It never entirely has to be sexual either, although you and Michael know it very well could be, there’s nothing more relaxing and soothing than sharing a hot shower or bath with one another before starting your day or ending it.

Still, with Michael’s business trips, early meetings, and days you’re expected at the courthouse, showering and having baths together has been somewhat of a rare pastime you always want to make up for.

~

Without enough time to properly dry your hair and style it for the morning which would matter little to you had you been anywhere else but at the Tropigala, you improvise perfectly by using a few of your own hair products and gel to pull off a perfect French twist look with ease.

As Michael carefully shaves off his stubble, you stand behind him still in your bathrobe and almost fully dry, working to gel through Michael’s hair.

The clean slicked back look—whether it’s parted from the side, the middle, or slicked right back from the center—is one classic hairstyle you’ve been surrounded with seeing your brothers and father have anywhere for any occasion.

Timelessly sexy and the preferred, clean look for a mafioso, you’re very well aware Michael never leaves the house without his hair neatly styled one way or the other and you’re obsessed with any of his looks with any of his suits.

It’s not the first time you’ve gelled and styled through Michael’s hair, but you can definitely count it as a rare occasion on your fingers.

“You’re the only one I know who enjoys this,” Michael murmurs out a comment, washing the shaving foam off of his razor.

“Why wouldn’t I?” You chuckle, dipping your fingertips into Michael’s preferred high shine and high hold gel pomade before working it through Michael’s hair. “It reminds me of when we first got married.”

“Mm?” Michael continues shaving alongside his jawline. “How so?”

“Well…” Blush hits your cheeks as you comb through Michael’s hair to spread around the product evenly first. “I’d wake up and there’d you’d be, already dressed and ready to go for the day; new suit, cologne on, hair done and everything. I like that, I always have, but I like getting ready with you like this more.”

Michael doesn’t answer you, but the curious glance you two exchange from looking into the mirror causes you to giggle quietly as you continue styling his hair.

You part Michael’s hair towards the left side of his scalp but without doing so that would show a full, clear part. 

From there, instead of gelling and slicking Michael’s hair back and towards the nape of his neck, you slick his hair horizontally to the side. 

Humming quietly while Michael begins to finish up his shaving and use a wet cloth to wipe off the shaving foam from his cheeks, you dip your comb and fingers back into the gel pomade every now and then to get a clean, perfectly slick look.

Not a single strand of Michael’s hair sticks out, is loose, or appears frizzy. Once you get towards the sides of Michael’s hair, you slick it back neatly to the back.

Instead of a fully slicked gel look through the middle and completely clean look, there’s a slight bit of volume in Michael’s hair where you parted it to the left and combed it left and right instead of straight back. 

Michael’s dark hair gives a clean, healthy shine from the gel, and his shower without a gritty hold or any product clinging to his skin all within five minutes.

“Maybe I wouldn’t be so used to it if Niccolò wasn’t always so adamant about looking like his father.” You beam, closing the tin top of the hair pomade and setting the comb down.

“Can’t blame him, can we?” Michael pats an aftershave lotion over his cheeks and jawline before washing off his hands. “You work quickly,” Michael glances at both sides of his hair in the mirror, impressed. “Thank you, darling.”

“Don’t have to thank me for that.” You lean in, kissing Michael’s cheek and inhaling the scent of his heavenly aftershave. “Mmm, look and smell so good.”

“I haven’t got my cologne on just yet.” Michael moves his head to steal a quick kiss from your lips. “Are we pressed for time?”

“Almost,” you sheepishly admit. “Better get dressed before the photographers practically show up at our suite door.”

“Not that I would be surprised.” Michael shakes his head, smoothening out his bathrobe. “May as well.”

Your day dress for breakfast today at the Tropigala is sleek and elegant; a white empire drape dress that hugs at your hips and has a cinched bow over your collarbone.  

Your hand is just as quick as flicking over a small wing of eyeliner over your eyelids, applying a coat of mascara, and using white pencil eyeliner for your bottom lid but you already find yourself more than distracted being able to see Michael behind you in the mirror.

Just as you’re applying a medium tone of coral lipstick over your lips, your eyes dart over to Michael who lets his bathrobe drop by the hotel closet.

A tug of sudden, deep arousal pulls in your gut at the sight of your husband naked, pulling on a pair of briefs and watching the way Michael opts for a wine-red dress shirt that hugs his back and arm muscles as he pulls it over himself.

Topping his look off with a navy jacket, and matching trousers, Michael tucks a baroque patterned day cravat neatly into his collar instead of a tie and approaches you by the vanity table provided by the hotel where he reaches for his cologne and sprays it over himself a modest amount.

“Ready to go with only two minutes to spare?” Michael extends his hand out to you.

“I’m sure everyone’s just dying to see us.” You laugh, nodding and taking your husband’s hand as you get up from your seat.

From the very moment you and Michael exit your suite and make your way towards one of the dining patios outside, both your bodyguards Ritchie Nobilio and Al Neri are quick to accompany you two from the crowd of expectant photographers.

Not bothering to stop by for questions or give the photographers the angles they want for their pictures, Michael gives an acknowledging wave and you a polite smile on your behalf before leaving the line of sight of the photographers.

Michael keeps an arm around your waist, walking close side by side with you as your eyes widen in delight to see the beautifully set up, private table by the garden and water fountain with you and Michael’s name reserved on it.

The glass walls that separate the private, luxurious outdoor patio look into the midst of the dining hall where it’s now less crowded than it was last night, but still filled with guests and patrons enjoying their breakfast.

“Darling,” Michael murmurs, pulling your dining chair back for you to sit on first. 

Blushing, you take your seat across from Michael and tuck your chair in—being served immediately by two nearby waiters who set down a plate of freshly baked biscotti, two glasses of water accompanied by two cups of just brewed cappuccinos, five selections of fruit jams, a frittata and chocolate-banana stuffed crepe for both you and Michael.

“Thank you,” Michael tells the waiters as you smile up at them, speaking out to you after they leave. “How’s that for the Tropigala’s warm welcome during breakfast?”

“A major, lovely improvement from Klingman’s days running the hotel.” You admit, placing a piece of biscotti next to your crepe.

“I’ll say.” Michael holds back rolling his eyes at the thought. “My father was stunned when the news came that Klingman gave up the Tropigala’s license.”

“Was that before or after Al beat it out of him?” You giggle, beginning to eat your crepe.

“Neri has his ways.” Michael shakes his head, stirring his cappucino. “Now Klingman spends the rest of his days chatting about how the Corleone family has a monopoly on casinos, resorts, and hotels in Nevada.”

“I’d say that’s a bit of an exaggeration.” You dip your butterknife into the raspberry jam, spreading it over your piece of biscotti. “I don’t think we’ve even—” Your butter knife drops from your hand and clings against the side of your plate as you stop talking.

Michael’s just raised his coffee to his lips, pausing and noticing you stopping mid-sentence. “What is it, darling?”

Your eyes lock onto Rita Duvall’s on the other side of the glass wall inside of the dining hall. Leaning against the wall with one arm and grinning at you and Michael, just the sight of her alone causes enough bitter annoyance and anger to spoil your appetite.

Michael turns his head back, noticing Rita whose eyes now meet Michael’s out of pleasant surprise he even bothered to turn back and look at her.

More than pleased to divert Michael’s attention from you, Rita continues shyly gazing at your husband and her eyes light up in excitement when Michael sets down his cappuccino to rise up from his seat.

‘Where is he…?’ You stare at Michael, unable to speak out as he smoothens out his jacket and rather calmly makes his way towards Rita like he’s been expecting to see her all morning.

You force your eyes down onto your food, picking up your butter knife again only to feel your anxiety flaring up inside of you seeing Michael beginning to approach Rita inside the dining hall. 

“Mr. Corleone, hello.” Rita blushes, politely greeting Michael and reaching out her hand to shake his.

Michael approaches her upfront, refusing to shake her hand but not appearing to be in a foul mood either. “Miss Duvall, I wasn’t aware you attended our annual celebration last night.”

“I was Senator Geary’s guest.” Rita admits, “I admit, it was a surprise for me to come by as well but I thoroughly enjoyed the meal service and all the entertainment, so thank you.”

“You should keep your appreciation and thanks to those who work here, not myself.” Michael’s voice remains stern towards her. “Just as you should stay away from Victoria.”

“Aww,” Rita pouts at Michael, “did she send you in here to talk to me?”

“No.” Michael stares at Rita coldly. “It was my choice. I would have done the same had I seen you last night.”

The smug look on Rita’s face begins to fade almost instantly. 

“You’re a grown woman,” Michael continues, gesturing to her. “And I can’t stop you from any of your so-called ‘fantasies’ but keep in mind I’m aware of the things you say to my wife about me.”

From where you sit, you have a perfect view across from you of Michael and Rita speaking to one another, but it’s already apparent to you that it’s Michael doing the talking considering how taken back Rita appears.

“Mr. Corleone—”

“Leave.” Michael lowers his voice. “Enjoy your last breakfast service here, then never find yourself welcome here again, near me or my wife before the journalists catch wind of a desperate admirer in a state of delusion with sexual fantasies towards the owner of the Tropigala. Believe me when I tell you a story like that won’t do well for you or the Senator’s reputation.”

Overprotectiveness spikes up in Michael as he gives Rita a departing scowl, walking away from her as if he never had that conversation with her, to begin with.

You pretend to remain preoccupied eating your breakfast casually, instantly feeling relief from your anxiety and any annoyance from Rita’s nearby presence as Michael returns to your table.

“What was that all about…?” You swallow down your food, staring at Michael in surprise.

“Nothing important.” Michael takes a sip of his water, looking at you. “Just had to remind an unwanted guest that she can’t and will not talk and act the way she does to my wife.”

You cover the smile growing over your mouth with your hand. “Oh? She’s still there, looking at you in dismay, you know.”

“I don’t care,” Michael replies plainly, putting his water down.

“Still looking, still looking, and…” You lace your hands with Michael’s free one on the dining table before pulling him a little closer to you.

Leaning to the side, you move in and plant a loving kiss over Michael’s lips right as Rita stares and watches the two of you inside the dining hall.

When you pull back, you only part your lips from Michael’s for a second before kissing him over and over again—each kiss deepened and returned by your husband until Rita huffs, throwing her purse over her shoulder and going to exit the Tropigala. 

“You’re mine and only mine,” you tell Michael as you sit back in your seat. “You know I take no issue with letting other people know.”

New fic is coming, and it's coming tomorrow, August 19!! 😏🥰🙏🏻 Finally finished writing my first Scarecrow fic, a fluff (and lovemaking smut 👀) filled Francis Lionel Delbuchi x Reader!! 14k words and a whole lot of chemistry, love and the most fluff you can think of! 😍 Look forward to it very, very soon!!

And for all the Moth to Flame girlies anticipating the next oneshot... Firstly, I don't blame you. 😂😂❤ Secondly, that's what'll be upcoming next. Promise. 😏

Capo di tutti capi