Owning the Mafia Don

Lucien

He was like a man on fire, a man possessed, although his mind was now moving coldly and clinically. He was reaching out to all the people he knew-the ones who had any idea about Dmitri Rudenko’s whereabouts, the ones who had agreed to stand with him if a gang war broke out.

But he kept drawing blanks. Raking his hand through his grey-white hair, he turned sharply as the door was flung open.

First things first, he thought as he nodded at Schwartz, who had run in, straight from the airfield. The younger man looked dishevelled and heartbroken.

He snapped at the person on the other end of his phone coldly.

“Yes. Keep me posted.’

‘Proserpina…’ whispered Schwartz, and Lucien saw the pain and anguish, the fear that he was controlling with a superhuman effort, mirrored in his underboss’ eyes.

Both men were bound with feelings for the same woman, who was lovely, kind and generous Proserpina

He had known all along that Schwartz loved Proserpina. Lucien enfolded the other man in a bear hug, clapping him on the back, trying to shut down the fears in his mind.

“Any call…???” began his friend when the phone on his desk began to ring, slicing through the tense atmosphere in the room..

Simultaneously, both of them turned to stare at it.

*

Proserpina

I came awake slowly, feeling sick and disoriented. My heart was pounding, as was my head. Nausea churned in my stomach, and I wanted to retch. Instinctively, my hand went to my stomach, protectively. My babies, I thought, feeling the terror grow in me.

My tongue seemed to be glued to the roof of my mouth, and I tried to swallow. But my throat was scratchy and dry, and I doubled over, coughing.

Slowly, painfully, the desire to know where I was overcame the fear, and I opened my eyes fully.

Looking around, a feeling of dread enveloped me.

I gasped involuntarily.

Where was I?

*

The unfamiliar grey walls of concrete that surrounded me were splotched with ugly brown marks. The floor was also unfinished, dirty, and rough. It was a cell, I realized, looking around, my eyes skittering about. An airless little cell with a window and a small vent high above. There was nothing in the room; just a low cot on which I lay with a thin, lumpy mattress that stank. And the sheet was coarse and brown, old, and from the smell of it, unwashed. I shuddered in revulsion.

I had always been a stickler for cleanliness, and Lucien used to laugh at me. The thought of my husband brought tears to my eyes…oh, Lucien, I thought, biting my lip hard. I want you here so badly.

But then the oppressive heat in the small room overcame me.

Falling back onto the smelly sheets, I fell asleep again.

*

It was the heat that brought me awake again. I was sweating; the sheets under me were soaked as I sat up, pushing my hair from my damp forehead. My clothes clung to me.

It was hot, stifling hot in here.

Dear God, I thought, What is happening? I was hungry and thirsty. The memories came flooding back, slowly.

The photographs on my cell phone…where was my phone?

My impetuous decision was to go and meet my husband.

And Sophie.

*

I felt a deep sadness when I thought of how Sophie had drugged me. What had I ever done to her? I asked myself in a moment of self-pity. I looked around desperately, my hand going to my belly, which was now round and protruding slightly. Getting to my feet awkwardly, I looked around me.

And I noticed a blinking red light set high in the corner of the ceiling.

A camera.

Someone was watching me.

*

Lucien

He had snatched the phone even before the second ring. An unfamiliar number.

A video

He swallowed as he opened the file

*

Proserpina. It was a video, slightly grainy, of his beloved wife, and he felt his throat constrict.

She lay on her back, a hand on her stomach, and he felt his breathing harsh and rough as he stared at her. This was how she used to lie, her small belly protruding.

Only the room she was in was a tiny cell, from the looks of it.

It broke his heart to see her.

Lying asleep in a tiny, filthy cell. Lying on grimy sheets, which she detested…

She looked so tragically innocent, so helpless, and so vulnerable that he made a choking sound and sank onto his chair, holding his head in his hands. Schwartz, who had snatched the phone from him, swore loudly, his voice breaking.

Another thought struck him at the same time.

Was she alive? He thought, his pulse racing.

As the men sat there, each trying to grapple with their thoughts, the landline phone on Lucien’s desk rang, breaking the tense silence. They stared at it for a minute. No one ever rang on this number anymore.

*

With an oath, Lucien grabbed the receiver, knocking over some files, but he could not care.

‘Delano’ he snarled.Original content from NôvelDrama.Org.

There was a long pause at the other end, and he knew who it was without a doubt.

The breathing was shallow and full of tangible excitement, and he was gloating.

Dmitri Rudenko.

This was the moment he had been waiting for almost all his life.

This confrontation with the man he hated. The man who had almost destroyed his children and had now kidnapped his wife.

At any other moment, he would have fought the evil this man personified.

But now, all he wanted was his wife. He wanted her back-the woman who had never knowingly hurt a soul, who cared, who gave and continued to give, who was generous to a fault.

Who he knew, without any shadow of a doubt, was in the clutches of this man.

The voice, when it came, was like a purr. Mocking him.

‘Ah, Lucien Delano.’

A chill ran through him, and he gripped the instrument hard.

Schwartz gently touched his hand, reminding him to loosen his hold.

‘Where. Is. My . Wife?’ he growled, his tone harsh.

The laugh from the other end was a maniacal chuckle.

“So, you know it is I who have her?’