Owning the Mafia Don

Proserpina

I felt as though my body was being torn apart.

I wanted to scream out but my body simply was not up to anything. Wearily, I surrendered myself to the welcoming darkness that rushed at me…

***

Lucien

He had bounded out of the lounge and grabbed the arm of one of the nurses in a vice-like grip.

“What has happened to my wife?” he bellowed.

“Sir, please Sir…,” stuttered the hapless young man, mortally terrified by the sight of the dishevelled, bloodied grey-haired man with pale, deadly eyes.

Schwartz gently released the man, gripping Lucien’s arms, forcing him to calm down.

Martinez had also appeared. Speaking in rapid Spanish, he managed to find out what was happening.

“Your wife…” He looked strained as though afraid of Lucien’s reaction as he went on,

“She… she has lost a lot of blood…”

“F*CK!” roared Lucien, distraught and almost beside himself. He turned away, unable to listen to anymore.

They had managed to save her from the clutches of the monster that was Dmitri, only to lose her?

He sank down onto a sofa, shoulders hunched, unable to think. Burying his head in his large hands, he shut his eyes, trying to shut out the voices floating around him.

He was dimly aware of people speaking. Schwartz was there, talking in his broken Spanish. Lucien could understand every word that was being spoken but he was too broken to stand up and respond…

Images wafted past in his memory.

The very first time he had seen her, a young, just eighteen years old but with the body of a Venus.C0ntent © 2024 (N/ô)velDrama.Org.

She had been standing in his Club that very first night, Proserpina in her figure-hugging dress, young, gauche and naive.

The look of astonishment on her face when he had swept her off, saved her the embarrassment of being turned thrown out when she had collided into him in her panic stricken flight to get away…

He remembered tasting her honey-sweet lips that night, of having felt like a man possessed when he kissed her that first time.

And he had not wanted to let her go after that…

He had kept her for himself, a beautiful, youthful young toy, he had thought but the jealousy he had felt whenever he saw her with another man; it had all but destroyed their relationship.

Restlessly, running his fingers through his thick grey hair, he thought of how she had run away from him and birthed his eldest children and how he had chased her and brought her back.

How his son, Claude had been born, a result of his forcing himself upon her. He shook his head, tortured breaths of pain shaking him. How he had hurt her, he thought despairingly, almost destroyed her on more than one occasion.

But she had bounced back, that dimpled smile on her face, making everyone who met her, fall in love with her. , he thought

Had brought him to his knees too.

Schwartz was smitten. He knew his friend would always hold a candle for Proserpina.

A large hand, the lean fingers gentle, descended on his shoulder.

“Mate.” said Schwartz, laughter in his voice, almost breathless with wonder.

“Look. Your children.”

Lucien was on his feet in a moment. He stumbled to the doorway. A nurse stood on the other side of a glass partition. She held a very small bundle in her arms. Another one, an older woman, emerged, holding a similar tiny bundle in her arms, carefully.

Lucien tried to speak, his mind refusing to form the words.

“And my woman?” he whispered hoarsely, forcing the words out, his throat dry and choked.

Schwartz spoke, his voice raw with emotion.

“The surgery took almost four hours.” Lucien could hear his heart pounding.

“But mate,” Schwartz’s eyes were filled with tears as he whispered,

‘She’s a fighter, is our girl.’

He grinned, his handsome face shining in happiness.

“She’s out of danger now. She’s sedated. Sleeping but she is going to be fine.”

And then he began to sob, his shoulders shaking,

“Boss, I thought we had lost her. I thought she would …like my Fiona…”

Lucien threw his big, powerful arms around his friend, holding him, sharing the deep fear they had felt, each in the private recesses of his mind.

Neither of them had wanted to voice the fear.

But it had been real.

The exasperated voice of Danielle interrupted them.

“Boss, seriously! ” and then, in a cross voice she snapped,

When you are done with the bromance, can we look at the babies? The nurses would like to take the little ones back to the room.’

Lucien turned. His eyes were moist. Clapping Schwartz on his shoulder, he turned.

And stopped.

One of the babies was in a blanket with pink lining; the other was in a blanket with blue lining.

He turned around in bafflement.

“A girl and a boy? I have a son and a daughter?’

Martinez burst out laughing at his expression.

“No,” he sniggered, “Your wife very fertile woman.”

Another nurse emerged, holding a tinier bundle, a little bigger than a toy.

This one was in a blue blanket.

Danielle let out a whoop.

‘You have TWO BOYS AND A GIRL, Boss!’ she shouted.

***

Proserpina

I drifted back to consciousness slowly, gradually. I saw the figure of my beloved Mother, the head nun at the monastery in Bhutan, who had nurtured my spirit when I had been so unhappy, so broken.

The woman seemed to be bidding me goodbye, placing her cool lips on my forehead and whispering a prayer as she seemed to disintegrate and become one with the whiteness of the wind around her.

A mist, I thought dreamily, it has to be the Mist. The breeze, the wind does not have any colour, or does it?

I smiled serenely.

I had felt loved and protected.

Safe and free of pain.

Slowly, I became aware of a wracking discomfort. A pain like no other and I cried out, sobbing. I became aware that I was holding someone’s hand and I dug my fingers into the wrist of the person holding my hand tenderly, stroking the inside of my wrist lovingly…

‘It hurts, so much…’ I heard myself whimpering, trying to touch my lower abdomen only to find I was firmly ensconced in a sheet.

A paroxysm of pain shot through me again and I cried out.

The muscles in my stomach felt as though they were cramping again, they felt as though they had been torn and I let out a sob of anguish, digging my broken nails into the large, strong hand holding me.

My body hurt, every part of my body ached, especially my belly and I whimpered.

The hand in mine seemed familiar, rough, the knuckles felt sandpapery and I slowly opened her eyes, wincing at the dim light.

Lucien’s silhouette loomed beside me. He was kneeling? No, sitting beside me, hunched forward, his lips on my hand and I smiled slightly, even through my pain.

It was such a …a caring gesture and Lucien never did caring!

I smiled wider, my dimples appearing.

No, my husband only made rough love. On the singularly few and far in-between occasions when he deigned to do something to show his affection, he made grand gestures.

Like flooding my room with roses.

Roses.

It brought back unpleasant memories.

Suddenly, I felt I was back in the cell, with Dmitri’s men around me, and Oleg…

He of the dirty eyes and the disgusting ways of molesting me…

I cried out again in sheer terror.

Gradually, I became aware of the tubes in my arm and I turned my head wildly, trying to escape.

Had Oleg…?

I sobbed out in panic, trying to thrash about and escape.

‘No, no, NO!!!’ I screamed.

I felt a monitor begin to beep loudly, felt Lucien try to hold me but the tubes connecting me to a monitor were too many and I was crying in earnest now. I could hear my heart pound in my chest, it felt so loud.

A weight seemed to descend on my chest and it was becoming increasingly difficult to take a breath.

“Take me away, Lucien.” I cried, urgently, “Take me away, please take me away, NOW!!! They will sell me, they will sell me…”

All of a sudden, there was the sound of women and men in the room. Hurrying about, talking anxiously, instructions being issued.

“Sir, you need to leave now!” cried an authoritative voice. “She’s getting hysterical. We need to…”

And overriding him, Lucien’s furious voice, rising in anger,

” F*CK YOU, YOU B*STARD!!!” he was shouting and I winced. Why was he so loud?

“THIS IS MY WIFE. I WILL NOT LET HER GO!”

Where am I going to go anyways? I thought hazily, almost smiling through my distress as I tried to breathe and felt that I could not do so.

Lucien was being his usual dictatorial mob Boss type, trying to order the people around. I felt a sharp prick on my arm and then a strange coolness spread over me and I ceased thinking altogether.

***

Lucien

He had been sitting beside her for more than an hour, the cool air of the vents striking his body. The sight of his wife, who had just brought his three newest children into the world, made his heart fill with love. It was a strange sensation for him.

A humbling sensation.

Knowing that she had carried, had shielded and finally, delivered his three strong children after he had rescued her. He closed his eyes briefly. He had never believed in God. But this made him wonder. he sent up a silent prayer of thanks to the power that had helped him to get her back, almost from the jaws of death, safely.

Her face, as she slept, was ghostly white. The bruises on her face, her cut lip, he felt his gut clench. She had suffered so much, his brave little woman.

But then, he came back to the present, as he sat, her soft, cool hand in his large warm ones; triplets?

He was still trying to wrap his head around that fact.

He remembered how she had told him the last time at home, after a long night of love making; she had said wearily, that she wanted another check up with the doctor.

Her unceasing bouts of nausea, the drained feeling she had spoken of. The largeness of her stomach.

She had known that something was off.

Now he watched her. The tranquillity as she slept.

She looked beautiful but he knew that she had lost a lot of blood and was very weak. He had wanted to fly her out immediately but the doctors had been alarmed.

There was no way she could be shifted now, they warned him severely.

***

Schwartz had gone to have a wash and change. Martinez had made the necessary arrangements for him and Danielle had also gone along.

They had had to force Lucien to do the same since the doctor was adamant. He would not have such a filthy looking man with blood on his face and body, enter the ICU.

Lucien had relented.

He wanted to hold his wife in his arms and for that; he was prepared to do anything

Aiyana was still sedated. The bullet had been extracted after the hour long surgery.

His men were also being treated for their injuries. Martinez had ensured that it happened at the hospital he owned. So, ther was no fear of any unnecessary questions.

He had lost one of his men. It had been a blow to them. Sid had been with him for years. Losing him had been like losing a member of his family.

Two others had been grievously wounded in the firing but they had been saved because of the medical attention they had received almost at once.

***

Proserpina stirred and her expressions that chased across her expressive face alerted him.

First there was pain and she clenched her teeth, holding his hand tightly as she groaned.

Then, fear. Her eyes fluttered open unseeingly.

Sobbing, she flailed her head about, murmuring and speaking incoherently.

But he got the gist of it.

She was terrified of someone.

And then he thought he heard her say the name of the man who had sadistically abused her the most.

Oleg.

Lucien’s lips drew back in a snarl. He looked ferocious.

He knew, with a sinking heart, that she would continue to carry the scars of her confinement and her suffering for a very long time, perhaps till the end of her life…

The monitors began to beep loudly, the lines on the screens shooting up crazily. Suddenly, the room was full of people.

“She can’t breathe.” someone shouted in panic and Lucien was unceremoniously pushed to the side.

“That’s my WIFE!” he roared but he was escorted out. Schwartz and Martinez appeared at the door, alarmed by the noise.

Lucien leaned against the wall.

He felt his heart go out to the woman in the room who was suffering.

Because of him.

Only because of his vendetta.