Owning the Mafia Don

Lucien

He stared at the phone.

It suddenly seemed to him that he was watching, like a disinterested bystander, as his life unravelled.

First, his wife who had seemed to look at him as though she abhorred his very presence.

Not surprisingly, he thought, pouring himself another stiff drink although he had had way too much already. He scratched his powerful, hirsute chest and brooded.

He had spoken in an unspeakably unforgivable manner to her. Yes, he knew it had been his insecurity speaking. But he had chosen to hurt her when she was most vulnerable and he hated himself for it. With a loud oath, he threw the glass across the room where it shattered into smithereens. The strong smell of rum filled the air almost at once and he scowled. He would need to get someone to clean the mess.

But he was too disturbed.

Now, his daughter, the one child who was his favourite…

Ria had been crying as she slammed the phone after screaming at her father. She had accurately read the equation between Proserpina and himself; knew that her mother had been putting up with his sh*t for years.

Her open declaration, “We hate you!” had left him shaken. He realised that he loved his family; he could not exist without them.

Not anymore.

He raised his hands and cupped his face, feeling his unshaven cheeks.

Damn.

A knock on his door and he straightened up, scowling.

“Yeah, come on in.’ he bellowed, knowing it had to be Beston who had permitted the person to come up to his room and knock.

He raised an angry face to look at the visitor and saw that it was James Schwartz. His anger shot up further. The young man raised his eyebrows as he sniffed. The overpowering stench of rum was heavy.

The handsome younger man stood there, leaning against the door jamb. Looking as polished as ever in his navy jeans and white shirt with long sleeves that he had rolled back to reveal his strong forearms. With a jacket slung over his shoulder that made him look rakish and handsome, he stood, watching Lucien. Then he stepped forward, shutting the door behind him.

His expression was grim.

“Mate.” he sounded weary and exasperated. “Look, Boss, …”

Lucien rose to his feet, swaying slightly.

His voice thick with anger he roared,

“The f*Ck are you doing here…?”

But Schwartz calmly sank down on a low-slung chair and swung his leg across one knee.

” Boss… Delano.” he said, holding up his hands in a gesture of defence.

Lucien ran through a string of expletives that were crude and ugly even to Schwartz’s ears.Content provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

He flushed and looked up, his green eyes glittering.

“If it was not for that little lady in the hospital, I would not have come here, right now.” he snapped.

Little Lady? Lucien’s grey eyes narrowed. Schwartz’s usage of that term of endearment for Proserpina further enraged him.

Lucien lifted a heavy wooden chair and hurled it at Schwartz, who ducked and leapt out of the way in time.

“Hey mate. Hold it!” he cried in alarm as Lucien charged at him,

But the older man was too swift. His fist connected with Schwartz’s jaw and the younger man raised his fist and took a swing at Lucien in a delayed attempt at defending himself. He barely made a dent in the furious older man’s countenance since Lucien had grown up on the streets, fighting, and he could fight according to the rules and fight dirty. Right now, fuelled by rage, he was using both techniques.

They kept at it for a while, upturning furniture, shouting, and swearing till the door was flung open, and Beston and his men stormed in and separated the two.

Though he was drunk, Lucien had managed to cause more damage than Schwartz who was sporting a black eye and had more bruises than the older man.

Beston held Lucien back with difficulty; he needed the help of two more men. Lucien was still raging like a beast, uncaring of the men around him as he snarled,

“You f*cking b*stard!’ he roared,” Bl*ody swi*e! You dare to lust after my woman, you …” he used words that made Beston wince.

But Schwartz yelled back,

“Mate, you got it all wrong!” and then he roared,

“She only cares for YOU, Cannae ye see?”

And then shaking off the restraining arms of the men holding him, he cried,

“Lea me alane! He was up to high doh!”

The men looked at each other, bewildered and more than a little alarmed but Lucien who had been with him for a long time ceased struggling. He stood, sweating and panting, glaring at Schwartz.

When Schwartz was agitated, he lapsed into his native Scottish brogue.

Breathing heavily, he growled,

“Leave us alone.”

Immediately Beston and his men stepped back.

“Boss, maybe you could .. uh…” Beston glanced around the room and Lucien knew he was talking about getting it cleaned. Lucien would pay for the damages but a semblance of normalcy had to be restored. With the overturned chairs and the broken glasses, it looked like the inside of a cheap pub after a particularly ugly brawl.

He nodded and indicating to the younger man who was bruised and bleeding, he stepped into the bedroom adjoining the living room where they had been brawling.

One of the men appeared with ice packs almost immediately and Lucien took the one offered to him while Schwartz took another, groaning as he held it to his jaw.

“Ah, Mate,” he mumbled. “I only came to talk to ye.”

And he turned to look at Lucien, whose matted chest was glistening with perspiration. Schwartz’s white shirt was soaked in sweat and stained with blood. Sighing, he took it off and tossed it onto the floor.

“I came to see ye, to talk to ye. I didnae want to make ye heavy raging. ”

Translated roughly, Lucien knew he meant he had not intended to upset Lucien.

And seeing Lucien’s frown he said, “I did not want drive ye mad.”

The handsome young man with his lean, muscled physique gleaming with sweat after the fight, sighed, pressed the ice pack to his face, turning away. He continued in a flat voice.

“Ye know, how much I love your hen.”

Lucien glared at his back, his muscles clenching, fists bunching but Schwartz turned to meet his cold lethal stare and said simply,

“She will never care for me the way I love her. I will at best, be her confidante and friend. Never anything else and I do not wish for more from such a fine woman.”

There was a wealth of sadness in his tone. As Lucien took an aggressive step toward him, Schwartz gave a sad laugh.

“You know, after Fionella, I never thought I would love another woman. But then I met Proserpina. Sweet and innocent, caring, and loving. She was something so rare in this filthy world we inhabit, Boss. A real woman.”

He gave a half-hearted chuckle.

“And yes, so attractive, she can turn heads by just looking at a man.”

He sighed and gave a bitter, cynical laugh.

” She was yours, she will always be yours and only yours because she only loves you. You, mate, YOU are the centre of her universe. There cannot be another man for her.”

And standing up, he took a step forward and he looked deeply into Lucien’s face as he went on in a low voice,

“You are my mentor, Boss. I love you and respect you more than I do any other man. I would never try to take her away from you, even if she cared for me. But…”

He sank down to the bed, his shoulders stiff, and his posture saying it all.

Proserpina would never look his way and see a lover; in her eyes, he would always be a friend.

Lucien stood still, his clenched fists opening slightly.

He was the biggest, crassest fool in the world. He had doubted both the woman he loved more than himself and his best friend, both of whom were a million times more honourable than he would ever be.

Awkwardly, he stepped up to Schwartz.

“Care for a beer…mate?” he growled.

Schwartz raised his head, eyes gleaming.

And then he grinned and immediately winced as he put his hand to his cheek.

“Mate, ye canna fight dirty, alright!” he groaned.

Lucien Delano smiled, his arms and shoulders aching from the fight and then he drew the younger man into a bear hug.

Never again, he thought to himself, never would he mistrust his friend. He stepped away, and he sighed.

Getting Proserpina to forgive him would be a difficult task.