Thread: The Don's Daughter (xMILENKOx & SnowGlassRoses)

It had not been until her thirteenth birthday, that Francesca Magdalena Guilliano had realized that her family was different than the other kids at school. For one, her family was not only consisted of those related by blood to herShe had numerous Uncles that bore no actual kinship to her, yet still doted upon her as if they were branches of the same family tree. Her family also was very wealthy, but that was not such a rarity was it? They had a huge estate, a private orchard, horse barns and even a private flight pathbut money had not been the scrutinizing difference. Perhaps the moment of enlightenment had been in middle school, when her history teacher had given her a B on her paper, ruining the entirety of her perfect grades since she had first entered schoolWell, when Daddys Princess had come home with tears streaming down her face, Vinchenzo had assured his little girl that things would be taken care of The next day, a very pale and shaking teacher apologized and quickly changed the grade in his book to an A claiming he had been very tired reading the night before and had mistakenly given her another students grade..While this had pleased Francesca immensely, it seemed odd that her teacher had chosen to retire at the end of that school weekHe had only been in his early thirties at the time, and no one had ever seen him again For the next nine years of her life Francesca accelerated in her studies, graduating at the top of her class, and as a proficient in both voice and violin. No more teachers had vanished, but every year during the first role call they seemed to stutter upon her surname. It had grown more and more amusing, the more she learned about her familysheritage, so to speak. Now at twenty two, Francesca had graduated from nursing school a degree acquired to make hospital visits for any injured family member less necessaryIt never was good to send one of the boys there, they always asked too many questions. Francesca would simply scoff at a mans idiocy and hurt his pride more than the actual wound she was tending. She had also pursued nursing in order to help take care of her father, who was getting up in age and refused medical help from any doctor save from an old family friend who was older than he was! The storm had woken her early that morning, but not enough to encourage her to get out of bed. It had been around 4 in the morning, and though she had heard footsteps in the hall, she convinced herself that if it was someone trying to break in they had a lot of ballswhich would more than likely end up strewn across the carpet when someone found him. Francesca remained out of sight for most of the day, coming down once to eat breakfast with her father and brother whom was in a rather suspiciously cheerful mood before returning to her room to practice a new concerto she was preparing for her fathers 70th birthday. When the time for the meeting came around, she descended the grand staircase, dressed in a tight black dress which had a swooping v-neck, showing off her more than modest bust. The skirt of the dress ending midway down her thighs, the short length giving emphasis to her lean, tall figure. The dress had an deep scarlet red-over corset, which further accented the lovely curves of Francescas body. She wore a pair of tight knee high black boots with a three inch stiletto heel, walking gracefully through the halls as if she was floating. Cesca had been wearing heels since she was fivethey were much more comfortable than flats, and much more appropriate for a lady, according to her father. Her long black curls cascaded down her back, bouncing slightly -with the same perk as her breasts- as she walked down the hall, hips swaying elegantly with each step. Smokey make up around her hazel-green eyes, red gloss to her lips, blush upon her high cheek bones and an elegant diamond near collar like necklace around her neck..She was certainly a sight to behold..Certainly, a mafia princess. As she passed by the gathering of men outside the meeting room they nodded their heads and gave rather meek hellos..Save for one man who was close to the wall..He must have been that Sicilian that Giuseppe had hired. Francesca glanced at him curiously, but paid no further attention, walking into the meeting room to be greeted by a-near choir of old Italian men going Ahh, bella! as they clasped their hands together as if Mother Mary herself had appeared. Smiling sweetly, Francesca exchanged embraces with each of her fathers close friends, politely complimenting them as she made her way around the table. Antonio Porello, the familys Consiglerie and Don Vinchenzos friend from the old country, chuckled a bit as he patted the man two years his senior on the shoulder. Antonio had been slowly losing his eye sight after a recent stroke, but he could still see Francesca as clear as day as she walked to him and hugged him close. How you keep-a so sweet bambina eh? He grinned as Francesca smiled elegantly, moving to stand behind her father, kissing his forehead softly. Well I suppose it helps that I rarely leave the house She said with a tone almost bitter sweet, her eyes slightly narrowing as she glanced up to her elder brother. She would have swallowed her pride for a moment and embrace him regardless of feeling slightly bitter that he was helping to keep hold of the key on her cage..but she noticed the time..159. He was late. He was never late. Turning to face Giuseppe fully, a hand on the back of their fathers chair, her lovely plump lips pursed slightly. Where the hell is Sal, Giuseppe