Owning the Mafia Don

Lucien

He had been too keyed up to ask why Tristan Lord was calling him. His only encounter with the younger man had been at Tristan Lord’s wedding, to be precise, the dinner after the wedding.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Schwartz’s disbelieving look. He knew what his friend was thinking; can he be trusted? Can we believe him?

But Lucien was too far gone. He wanted news of his Woman and any messenger would do.

The openly disgruntled attitude of the young man had struck Lucien. It had stayed with him as he jetted back to the comfort of his own beloved woman and his children.

He had found himself wondering why Tristan Lord had chosen to get married to the Condor’s daughter. She was no raving beauty, and Tristan Lord had been a handsome, virile looking young chap, He reminded Lucien of his own self in his youth. Aggressive and brash.

But after that, he had had no reason to dwell on Tristan Lord and his choice of bride. He had been too busy attacking Dmitri. Somewhere along the way, he had received reports that the Condor had switched loyalties. It had come soon after Issandor had been removed from power by his own sons.Belongs to © n0velDrama.Org.

***

Proserpina

Sometime during the long journey, I was drugged. It could have been slipped into the food they served, the peculiar tasting sandwich that I had. Or in the orange juice, I was offered, that I drank thirstily? I was ravenous and ate and drank without thinking. And then, I fell into a deep sleep.

When I opened my eyes, I sat up with a start.

I was in a room, a large spacious room. Dazed, I looked around.

The heights of luxury adorned the room. Large windows framed by flouncy curtains in rich purple velvet, a large four-poster bed in the centre with a rich counterpane spread on it. But the windows were shut now, and the air conditioning that hummed in an unobtrusive way made me shiver in my flimsy gown.

The rich carpet, pale lavender in colour with a small dressing table and a stool, also in the same lavender upholstery.

A mild fragrance hung in the air. The smell of roses.

With a pang, I thought of the day I had returned to Lucien after a break in our relationship. I had fallen asleep after the long flight from Japan. When I came awake, I had found the room flooded with roses.

I loved roses, the delicate fragrance that made me think of love and romance. Lucien, during all the time I had been with him, had never made a single romantic gesture. It had only been a passionate claiming of my body that brooked no resistance.

But that evening, four years and three children later, he had made me fall in love with him all over again with that extravagant act.

Hundreds of roses, Ria had exclaimed in wonder, giggling, capping her hands in childish joy.

Now I sat, too numb to cry.

It hit me again, my utter helplessness.

And now, I wondered if I would ever see him again, the Mafia Boss who was almost two decades older than me, my only love; my darling children. And my unborn babes.

But one thing was certain:.

I knew that if I survived, I would never be able to stand the fragrance of roses.

***

Lucien

Now he stood, unmoving, alert as he listened to Tristan Lord’s deep baritone over the phone, booming as the sound vibrated in the room.

He had put his phone on speaker mode so that everyone assembled in the room could hear what Tristan Lord was saying. Aiyana was already taking notes in her cool, organised way.

Tristan Lord’s crisp message was clear.

” You need to know that they have shifted your wife to Columbia.’ He said.’ La Guajira or Tatacoa. Not too sure about that.’

Lucien nodded to Schwartz, who was already searching for contacts there. Aiyana was on another call, to her colleague.

***

Proserpina

After a while, I looked about me anew.

A huge painting dominated one wall. That of a man and several women indulging in sexual acts that made me gape. They were contorted in various poses that made me feel sick just looking at them.

I rose to my feet and walked to the door that stood in a corner. It was obviously a bathroom, and I blinked as the lights came on. Mirrors-the entire four walls were mirrors.

A sick feeling rose in my mind. Could they be two-way mirrors?

An incident from a long while ago replayed in my mind’s eye.

I remembered Shark arguing with Lucien about keeping two-way mirrors in select bedrooms in the Club. Lucien had shot down the idea.

“My guests are free to do what they want in the privacy of their bedrooms and bathrooms,” he had said, his lips twisting in disgust as he stared down Shark.

‘Blackmailing them or simply indulging in voyeurism is not something that is about to happen here. Not at the Club.’

Shark had been outnumbered as Schwartz had also stepped in, adding his vote to Lucien’s. Not that anything could happen without my husband’s approval, but the fact that the other Founder of the Club stood with Lucien had meant that the idea had died even before it had ever materialised. But I had seen the look of malevolence Shark had shot at Lucien that evening, and I had known he had been furious.

These people who had captured me, they were the kind of people who thought like Shark…

Hastily, I exited after washing my hot face. When I looked at myself in the full-length mirrors, I was shocked. I grimaced as I studied myself in growing horror. The mockery of a gown revealed every inch of my body. And my heavily made up face made me look …!

Grimacing, I hastily exited the bathroom.

And came up short.

The woman named Xenia was in the room with a couple of other women who looked like clones of her own self. She smiled at me, a twist of her lips.

“Come on, Showtime. She said and laughed as I shrank back.

“No,’ I protested weakly, but she ignored me.

‘Touch up the sl*t’s make up,’ she ordered, and I was forced to sit down while my mouth was outlined again, even as I demurred weakly but she ignored me.

The door was flung open suddenly, and Dmitri Rudenko marched in, followed by Oleg.

I could sense his fury as he bore down upon me. Grabbing my throat, he snarled,

“You b*tch!’ I think he would have hit me but Xenia stepped forward and touched his arm.

“Let her be. We have had a time doing her make up.’ She said but I could hear the tremor in her voice She was scared of him although she tried to sound as confident and brash as ever…

I met his eyes bravely.

‘You …’ he swore in some Slavic language that I could not understand. Breathing heavily, he went on, his face suffused with colour.

‘If that bas*ard Lucien Delano thinks that by killing my men and destroying my places of work,’ he stopped, taking a large breath of air, his eyes flashing with fury, as he went on, in rage,

‘ If he thinks that will stop me from selling you, you stupid cow,’ here he stopped to take another deep breath. I met his gaze, boldly. I would not show him I was terrified of this mad man. Over his shoulder, I could feel Oleg’s gaze, his pale-eyed stare boring into me. But I tipped my chin, unwaveringly staring at the man before me.

My defiant attitude seemed to make him livid. He gripped my hair and forced my head back. I refused to cry out although it felt as though he was tearing my hair out from the roots.

Lowering his face, he snarled,

‘HE IS WRONG.’

I smiled at him. A feeling of vindictiveness crept into me. Lucien was coming for me.

My triumphant expression enraged him. He stepped closer, squeezing my throat and I felt a blackness descending on me. I raised my hands, trying to free myself.

But once again, Xenia stopped him.

‘Mjester.’ she said, and then in a low tone, urgently, ‘Mjester!’

She went on, almost begging him now,

‘We have already got huge offers for her. Exorbitant ones.’

He let me go so suddenly, that I almost fell off the chair. Spluttering, I coughed, my hand going up to my bruised throat. My eyes watered and I felt a wave of nausea flood me.

With an oath, Dmitri Rudenko stormed out of the room, his long coat flapping behind him, followed by the pale-eyed Oleg.

“Lucien,’ I thought, biting my lip to hold back the tears, ‘where are you?