Owning the Mafia Don

Proserpina

The woman had made me dress..

The red-haired one was called Xenia, I had gathered from the conversation the two women who had been assigned to prepare me, were having between themselves.

She was a Madam and a very important person in the chain as I would come to know. I wore the dress and allowed them to zip me up. I felt almost naked since I had no undergarments. The dress strained across my breasts and my nipples stood out with the abrasive touch of the garment.

The old woman applied make-up on my face and had darkened my eyes, reddened my mouth.

I allowed her to do it . What else could I do?

When she held up a small mirror so that I could see her handiwork, I stared at the dull looking eyes of the face that stared back at me. I looked like a wh*re, I thought.

Xenia came in after a long while. Her mouth set in a tight line as she surveyed me. Then, spinning on her heel, she went out, saying something.

The old woman cackled, and the younger one gave a snort. As I stared at her bemusedly, she said in broken English.

“She jealous. Even with this,’ she indicated my stomach,

‘You look beautiful.’

She cackled again.

They took me outside again, with the hood over my head. But this time, the old crone held my hand and led me. I descended many steps, and I knew I was in some warehouse. Suddenly, there was the sound of men running.

“Get her into the car quickly!’ said a man in English, again, heavily accented.

Someone grabbed my arm, and I was hustled into a car.

I winced as I was pushed in, and two people settled beside me on either side. One was the old woman. I could smell her clothes and the strange perfume she used. The other was a man.

He was swearing. An American.

” Bloody Delano had sent his troops to us, boss.’ He was speaking on the phone I realised. My heart lifted in hope and joy.

Lucien was on the way.

Then the man spoke and my heart sank.

“No, he’s only reached the first place. I think he has no idea of this place. What? Sure, sure.’

Again a pause. I strained my ears to hear what the other person was saying but I could only make out a furious babble of words.

“Yeah, boss. Leaving right now. Sure. We’ll be over the border by midnight.’ And then a callous chuckle.

‘Nah, the c*nt is ready. All dressed up to be paraded.’

And again a chuckle that made my blood turn to ice.

***

Lucien

He stood in the centre of the bedroom he had shared with his Woman.

Walking into the bathroom had brought back countless memories. Of taking her in the shower, her body pressed to the tiles as he entered her roughly.

The feeling of the water as it slid down her winsome body.

The sound of his rasping breathing as he sank his teeth into her sensitive flesh, making her cry out.

He groaned.

He needed to bring her, to rescue her from the monster who had snatched her away…

As he walked into the wardrobe, he recalled how she had stood there one last time, the frustrated expression on her face, pouting as she exclaimed,

“Lucien, the bikinis do not fit me anymore!’ He had laughed and wanted to take her , then and there, vulnerable as she looked, her body swathed in her customary pink towel. But she had swatted his hands off as he fondled her large breasts. She was expecting his twins and her body had grown larger.Material © NôvelDrama.Org.

Sighing, he wore the clothes that came to hand. She had always made sure that he dressed well, he thought bitterly as he buttoned up his shirt. Sighing, he scratched his cheek. He had not shaved and it gave him a leonine look. Not that he cared.

There was a tentative knock on the door and he turned around.

Ria came in, with Piers behind her. Claude toddled in, rushing at him and he picked up the little fellow.

Ria watched him, a serious, old look in her face.

“You miss Mumma, don’t you, Pappa?’ she said softly, solemnly, her small hand on his cheek.

He looked down at her. His little princess, the one who used to fly into tantrums at the drop of a hat, was now mothering him. He smiled and looked at Piers who hung around at the door.

The blonde head was bowed but he knew his son was still resentful

Sighing, he walked forward and said,

“Son, I am sorry.’

Piers looked up at him, a wary look on his bespectacled face.

Ria came closer

‘I…Pappa, I miss her…’ and he dissolved in tears, sobbing loudly, throwing his thin arms around his father. Lucien swallowed. The lump in his throat made it difficult for him to speak.

But he said,

‘I miss her so much, Piers. But I swear I shall get her back. Safely.’

And our brothers added Ria

He grunted and pulled his children into his arms, hugging them.

Later as he stood in the study, issuing orders, watching Aiyana and Schwartz as each of them spoke to whoever they were contacting, the phone on his desk rang.

He frowned. It was not the landline. And not many people used that number.

He lifted it and said curtly,

“Delano.’

The voice at the other end seemed strangely familiar. As the young man began to speak, Lucien recalled.

Yes, it was Tristan Lord.

The son-in-law of the Condor, the dreaded South Mafia Don. The old fox was no longer as effective as before but his son-in-law seemed very inclined to join in to help him find Proserpina.

As he listened, Lucien felt his breath coming harshly.

“What did you say?’ He roared and immediately, all the men in the room and Aiyana were turning to him. Beston raced across, gesticulating, asking if he should tap the call; Schwartz, white-faced was at his elbow.

But he shook his head, raising his hand.

‘No.’ he signalled and went on listening.

Beston had begun to record the conversation and now Schwartz was also listening in. Lucien saw his grief and shock reflected on his friend’s face.