Owning the Mafia Don

Proserpina

I came awake groggily. And sat up immediately.

There were some men in the room, Oleg was one of them, and I shrank in alarm.

I had woken up a while ago and used the tiny, decrepit bathroom to take a shower and use it for my basic needs. It made me want to cry, it was filthy and so small, I almost squeezed into it. But I did not want to give up. I wanted to believe that my husband was using all the resources at his disposal to search for me…

***

It was probably my body clock that brought me awake, or maybe it was the dull ache in my arm that was swollen and painful now. Otherwise, I had no idea what time it was. It was slightly cooler now, which meant it was dawn? I wrapped myself as best as I could in my once beautiful, now ruined, torn dress, shuddering as I thought of Oleg with his meaty fingers, the hot breath of the man as he had licked my cheek. I had scrubbed away at my cheek and the area felt sore. I gazed up longingly at the tiny slit in the wall, high above, perhaps a ventilator. But I could not see the sky and I soon drifted off into a doze, exhausted and hungry.

***

It was the sound of men speaking, the shuffling of boots in the room that woke me up.

I sat up, trembling.

Oleg had entered, with a posse of men.

All for one little woman? I thought derisively.

He barked instructions at the men and turned to me, slowly. I shivered in loathing and fear at the look of open desire in his cold glassy gaze. He was in dusty jeans, and the shirt he was wearing strained across his muscular chest. His bald head gleamed, and he noted my expression of loathing of hate with a small smile on his thick lips.

He smiled, a mere lift of his lips and came to me, noting how I shrank back, the smile growing wider.

‘Get up, wh*re.’ he growled and hauled me to my feet roughly, his hands on my arms, holding me close to his body. I tried to resist and he kicked at one of my feet, causing me to lose my balance. Stumbling, I fell onto him, as he had no doubt wanted me to. His large hands groped me and I moved back at once with a gasp.

I struggled, trying to get away from him.

‘Ah, you stink, you sl*t!!!’ he laughed and turned to look at his audience. As if on cue, the men with him in the room burst out into hoarse chuckles, jeering.

And then, as the heat went up in my face, he brought his face close to mine and said in a lower voice, ‘But when I am done with you, it will not make any difference, eh? You will smell of my cum. Every inch of you.’

I struggled in earnest, hating the thought of what he wanted to do to me. And terrified.

He thrust me away from him forcefully, and I fell back on the bed, staring at him, wild-eyed. I rubbed my arm, which was hot and swollen from Dmitri’s ruthless twisting.

His cold eyes, which were almost like a mistake because they were so colourless, lit up as he saw my expression.

Then, in a guttural voice, he commanded,’ Tie her up. Let us leave.’

I tried to fight, but seeing the grin on the face of the man who was approaching, I let it be. They enjoyed it when I was fighting them.

He tied my hands behind my back, and I whimpered at the pain. And then a black hood was pulled over my head-a smelly black cloth that made me gag. I was lifted up and hoisted over the shoulder of a man; I knew it had to be Oleg. There were jeers and coarse remarks as the man carried me out. I did not move; I just prayed that the children in me were safe…

What did they have in store for me?

***

Lucien

He was talking to the leader of the men manning the place where Worthington was being held.

Like a wounded lion, he had prowled about, barely listening to Schwartz as he implored him to exercise some restraint on his drinking. But the news he received made him feel better. Worthington was showing signs of cracking.

Good, thought Lucien, he would fly down to personally supervise matters in the afternoon.

Like a wounded lion, he had prowled about, barely listening to Schwartz as he implored him to exercise some restraint on his drinking.

It was Ria who had made him realise that he needed his wits about him and drinking excessively could not help them in any way.

The little girl had appeared, knocking at the door of his study and walked up to him, her toddler sibling and her twin accompanying her.

He had felt a wrench in his heart as he saw the children. They were suffering too.

But he admired his daughter. To his astonishment, she had stepped in to take care of her baby brother. Gone were the squabbles, the endless ragging of the baby.

“Can we talk to you, Pappa?’ she declared, more than asked as she met his eyes steadily.

They stood together, a united front now and he tipped his head, meeting Beston’s eyes. He would talk to them in private.

Schwartz and Aiyana were the last to leave. Handsome James kissed Ria on her small golden head and winked at Claude who glared at him, as they left.

***

Ria and Piers, with baby Claude between them, holding their hands, walked towards him. The toddler with his shuffling gait looked about himself in wonder. None of the children ever came to his study. It was an area that had definitely been out of bounds.

Lucien Delano gazed at them now, each set of blue-grey eyes. Claude watched him curiously while the look on the twin’s face was different, a set look. The look he had when he was going to do something unpleasant, he thought in astonishment

“Pappa, ‘said Ria clearly, always the one who did not hesitate to take the bull by its horns,

‘Pappa. We wanted to tell you that we want you to find Mumma.’

” And Pappa,” said Piers bluntly,

“We do not want you in your cups.’ stated the little boy solemnly.

Ria moved a little closer, mistakenly taking his bemused look to mean that he had not understood his little son’s eloquence.

“He means, Pappa, do not drink so much.’

She nodded wisely and turning to Piers, hissed fiercely,

“Just use simple words, Piers! Pappa might not understand’

She gave him a reassuring smile to say it was okay if he could not understand high flown language.

Lucien smiled inspite of himself. He had been taken aback by Pier’s use of language; the little fellow never failed to amaze him with his use of grandiose, if somewhat out-dated expressions. Proserpina had always encouraged the young child to read, he thought wearily.

He bent down from his chair and lifted Claude into his arms, inhaling the baby scent, burying his face in the little fellow’s neck.

“What are you doing, Pappa?’ cried Ria in some alarm as the baby began to squirm. She tugged at his arm.

He swallowed; he did not want to show any weakness before them. But holding Claude brought back a thousand memories; the way he had all but raped his wife leading to her conceiving Claude; he would never forgive himself for that.

Later, the way his woman used to walk about with Claude on her hip, chucking the baby’s chin and laughing, tossing her mane of brown hair, dimpling at him. And the most recent picture he had of her in the video, trying to fight on valiantly, inspite of all the odds.

He carried Claude to the plush brown leather couches arranged in one corner of the room. The twins followed.

Ria asked in a small voice, trying to keep it from wobbling.

‘Pappa, did the bad man send you a video of Mumma?’

He gazed at the wall. There was a lone picture of Proserpina and the children on his wall, one taken during happier times. It had been taken when they had had a holiday, the first and only holiday, at the lake house. She was dimpling at the camera while Ria was smiling, leaning across her to wave at Schwartz who had taken the picture. Piers, his small face as solemn and unsmiling as ever, with his hand on his mother’s shoulder. Ever the trooper, ever beside his mother, thought Lucien. And baby Claude, pop-eyed, looking into the lens.

His family…

He nodded.

“I am doing all that I can, pumpkin.’

She smiled but Piers broke in, a harsh ring in his tone,

‘Pappa, what was in the video you received?’

He turned to his son, uncertain whether to be astonished or to be annoyed. But seeing the fear behind the brave expression, he reached out and hugged the little chap.

“It showed Mumma…’

“Can we see her?’

Asked Ria her voice trembling.

But Lucien shook his head firmly.

‘No, princess, ‘he said, drawing her into his embrace, lowering his head, inhaling the fragrance of the shampoo she used. Strawberry. He smiled.

‘I do not want you to get upset…’

Piers, white-faced, clenched his fists and said in a low voice,

“Then they must be hurting her, right?’

He looked at his children. They had grown overnight, he thought tiredly. They were already thinking of their mother’s pain, becoming adult-like in their dealings with Claude…

Ah, Dmitri Rudenko, he thought bitterly. You won, didn’t you?

***

It was mid-morning now.

Schwartz was driving over to the holding cell to question Worthington, having flown in earlier that day after leaving the Delano mansion. Aiyana had insisted on accompanying him.

Lucien Delano had said that he would join them in the afternoon.

She held her lover’s hand as he stared out at the bleak desert they were driving through. The sunglasses could not keep out the harsh glare of the heat bouncing back at the large car from either side of the road as they travelled, silent and grim.

It was a bleak landscape, with few plants, cacti, that struggled to grow.

A wasteland, thought Aiyana, thinking of a poem by T. S. Eliot, one she had read when she was in University.

Here is no water but only rockProperty of Nô)(velDr(a)ma.Org.

Rock and no water and the sandy road

The road winding above among the mountains

Which are mountains of rock without water

She murmured the words to herself as the cars sped along, a line of black cars that raised clouds of dust.

***

Schwartz was wrapped in his thoughts and he gave her an absent smile before turning to stare outside.

Aiyana watched him curiously.

He loved Proserpina Delano, she realised, but he would never go against his mentor, his Boss, whom he clearly worshipped. He cared for her and when they made love, it was gentle and satisfying. But she knew that there would always be a third invisible entity in their lives if she was thinking of a long time commitment with him.

Again the words of the poem came back to her,

Who is the third who walks always beside you?

When I count, there are only you and I together

But when I look ahead up the white road

There is always another one walking beside you

The invisible presence of Proserpina Delano. And she was not sure she wanted to live with that.

But she enjoyed spending time with Schwartz,

She sighed and turned to look out of the window. This thing was bigger, deeper than she had thought. Somehow, she had become involved, more than she had ever imagined she would be.

She had the option of walking away; leaving Delano to his private hell, giving help via her ideas and that was all.

But she wanted to be there when Dmitri Rudenko was brought down.

***

Lucien

He was in his study with Beston when Schwartz’s call came through.

“Mate, you have to hear this,’ he said excitedly.

Ten minutes later, Lucien Delano was moving to a hideout in the vast deserts bordering Mexico, a location he had never known of.

Dmitri Rudenko’s hideout.

The place where they were holding his wife.