𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐒 • the godfather [ bloodlines au ]

𝐢.𝐢𝐢. 𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐨, 𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚

     THE LANDSCAPE CHANGED once the car abandoned the buzzing streets of Manhattan and advanced through the colonnade of trees that led to Long Island. With a childish wonder Vittoria pressed her face against the glass,  entranced by the novel scenery. This particular stretch of road was flanked by identical white houses, divided by seemingly endless green yards and charming picket fences.

     It appeared almost artificially perfect.

     The girl slumped back into the comforts of the backseat, averting her eyes to the chauffeur. He didn't look much older than her, but was smartly dressed in a thick black uniform with shinning buttons and epaulettes to match. The tassels stitched to it bounced with every new pothole the came across.

     "Are you one hundred percent sure you know where we're going?"

     "No worries, miss, I know this city like the back of my hand," chuckled the young man, swiftly turning right into a more densely built residential street.

     They carefully entered the compound, down the street flanked by two-storey houses, all surrounded by high hedges. It ended with a cul-de-sac, with the largest house standing as the centerpiece at the top.

     Vittoria noticed the chauffer's dealthly grip on the steering wheel even before he asked, "Are you sure, miss, about this? I wouldn't deal with the Corleone's if my life depended on it." A visible shudder ran through his body.

     On the main entrance gate stood two guards, leaning on the metal and quietly talking until they spotted her imported Bentley.

     Vicky leaned forward, positioning herself between the two front seats. "If your life depended on it you would deal with me, son," with a clap to the young man's shoulder, she was already opening the car door. "You can stay out here, I'll walk down myself."

They closed with a bang behind her, cutting off his weak protests.

"Who goes there?" Came a sharp command from the gate, making Vicky raise her hands slightly, amused.

   "Mi chiamo Vittoria Shelby, figlia di Thomas e Caterina Shelby," she announced, hoping the confidence in her voice wouldn't waver from the nerves, "Avuto un appuntamento con Don Corleone."

The two exchanged a look, one of them promptly walking down to the biggest of the houses beyond the fence. He emerged half a minute later, followed by a tall, lean man in a crisp gray suit that matched his receeding hairline.

The stranger, surely important by the air of brisk confidence he exuded, took a moment to asses her appearance, as if determining whether she posed any considerable danger. She was lucky to posses the youth and the looks to mask the more dishonest dealings she took part in for the family business.