Owning the Mafia Don

Proserpina

From the snatches of the conversation and the tone of my captors, I guessed that Lucien had arrived after the blast. So my lover was still alive, and I knew he was relentless; he would keep looking for me. That gave me hope.

I sat still, my legs stretched out in front of me. It was late, I supposed. The room was dark. A dim light glowed high up in the ceiling, a bare bulb. I knew that it was too high up for me to clamber up to. Apart from the bed, there was no other furniture in the room. Just an iron bed that was too heavy to even push. Later, I discovered that it had been screwed to the floor.

The room was large, and it smelled musty. An old, worn sheet covered a lumpy, uncomfortable mattress. A pillow that had obviously seen better days had a cover that was stained and greasy. I wrinkled my nose in disgust. But I was too tired to fight the exhaustion that seemed to be rolling over me in waves now.

Besides, I was too weary to do anything now.

My back ached from the journey and having been manhandled roughly by Oleg.

***

We had arrived a few hours ago. I had been shoved into the room and left alone. Having fallen onto the ground, I got up painfully, clutching my belly. I was alright, I thought gratefully. I sat, desperately trying to meditate on the peaceful greenery of the cool hills of Bhutan, as the Mother at the nunnery had advised me many a time.

Soon after, the same woman who had brought me the food earlier entered with a plate of porridge. It was cold and tasteless. She left it on the floor and walked out without making any eye contact. A man had come with her-a man with a rifle that he held in his hands, casually but alert.

I shivered and recoiled when I saw the look in his eyes.

But I ate greedily.

The flutter in my belly reassured me. My children were alive and well.

I knew I was probably approaching my fifth month. The familiar signs were there. The heartburn, the fatigue. And of course, my babies kicked at my belly as I stroked it, tenderly.

The tears were freely falling now.

If only, I thought, biting my lip, if only Lucien was here; I missed my young children. Ria used to pat my stomach and speak to her new siblings, making me laugh. It was always a conspiracy she was hatching against Claude that she kept talking about.

Wistfully, I wondered how they were…

Sinking to my knees, I thought of my children and my husband. Had I ever thought I would be going through such a terrible time?

I wondered where I was. This looked like it was a room in a house-an old house. Where was I, I thought.

Suddenly, the door opened. The woman I had seen earlier entered. She shuffled in, her head lowered. Again, she had some food on a platter. Just a soup, thick and greyish brown, with some vegetables and some chunks of meat floating on the surface. Something very simple.

I sat up and watched her with some trepidation. There was the same man behind her. A big fellow whose empty eyes stayed on the both of us. But now, he did not seem at all interested in me; on the contrary, he kept his eyes steadily on the woman.

The woman looked half-starved. She did not meet my eyes, she merely kept the food on the bed and turned to go. I saw a bruise on her face. It was a sickly yellow-green bruise. Like someone had hit her on the face a while ago, and it was healing. And then I saw her arms; they were covered in welts. I looked at her face, shocked, but she avoided my gaze.

I shivered. Over the woman’s shoulder, I met the eyes of the man. And shrank back. He snapped at her in Spanish. Rude words, but she quickly moved to the door, still shuffling but faster.

I guessed that he was asking her to hurry. As she reached the door, he reached out and yanked her out. She made a muffled yelp, and I guessed she was hurt, but before I could make out anything more, they had left.

They left as abruptly as they had come. And then there was only silence. I strained my ears, trying to listen for any noise, but it was as though we were in a vast emptiness.

I gulped down the soup. It was tasteless-a broth of some kind-and the vegetables were stale, the meat chewy. I relished it and half smiled as the wobble in my belly showed that my children were moving with a vengeance. It was always worse when I was trying to sleep. The movements in my stomach increased manifold. I had so longed to be with Lucien, to have him place his large hand on my stomach, to feel the movements of the wondrous beings we had created in our passion…

Sighing, I stared up at the ceiling and crawled into bed.

***

Sometime during the night, I came awake. An idea, frightening and terrifying, had been swirling around in my mind. It had brought me awake abruptly, and I opened my eyes.

I sat up, unmoving and still, and thought,

“There was some reason for this sudden decision to provide me with food. But what could it be?

It only left me scared.

***

Lucien

The Mob Boss was desperate now. Dmitri had covered his tracks well. He could not be found anywhere.

As for his wife…the woman he loved seemed to have disappeared from the face of the earth.

He smote his head and turned to drink from his tumbler.

He had lost his men-around five of his best men-in the explosion. They had been in the car and were too close to the building to be saved. All that had remained of them had been charred remains.

That had hurt him too. It was like another blow.

Lucien knew that Dmitri must be sitting somewhere, celebrating.

***

Worthington had been suspended from the ceiling for so long, that he had forgotten how it felt to be upright.. He had been beaten to within an inch of his life.

Bruised and bleeding, he yelped as the lights came on and Lucien strode in. The Boss had stripped down to his waist, tossing his clean white shirt to the floor, his muscular torso evident as he approached aggressively. His eyes gleamed, and he was trying to keep his violent wrath in check as he eyed the man who was responsible for having lured his woman into such danger.

“All, please…” begged the unfortunate creature who was hanging from the ceiling, only to let out a scream as Lucien let his fists fly.

‘I don’t know…I don’t know…’ he wailed.

***

Sophie

Danielle opened the door and strode in, her face cold and hard.NôvelDrama.Org owns this text.

Sophie had sent a desperate message to the man who had brought her the food. She had something to tell Danielle.

“I …I have something to tell you…’ said Sophie, wringing her hands and standing up. She looked frightened, strain in her voice as she watched Danielle approach her warily.

‘Spit it out.’ Snarled Danielle.

‘I think…I can help you,’ she whispered.

Danielle clenched her fists.

‘Say it.’ She said through clenched teeth.

Sophie twisted her hands again, clearly nervous. Danielle listened as she began to speak.

‘It’s something… Sondra had told me…’ she whispered.’ About a place where they hold girls… before they are …. the girls, the women are …sold…”