Owning the Mafia Don

Bemusedly, I stared at Lucien and suddenly became aware that my favourite song had begun to play, the slightly nasal, soulful voice of the UB40 group lead singer crooning “I Can’t Help Falling In Love With You’.

The music soared as I took my steps to him, the only man I had ever loved, the one who owned me, body and soul.

My Mafia Don…

I choked, my eyes misting but suddenly, Beatrice was beside me, little Louis in her arms. She nudged me hard and said in a hiss,

“Girl, you ain’t getting all teary-eyed an’ all now, yeah? You gotta walk up to the Man. He has been doing this secretly for you and all.’

I nodded, shakily. Ria came to grip my arm on one side as Piers moved to the other.

All I wanted was to run to Lucien, to hug him and kiss him but he had taken such trouble to set this up; my whole conniving family and my friends, they had done so much!!!

With tears in my eyes but smiling widely, I stepped out onto the lawn bordering the patio and crossed the lawn, the bouquet in my hands.

My gaze was riveted upon the man who had made me his lover, his mistress when I was just eighteen, the man who had been through so much with me, for me, the father of my children…

My only Love.

Lucien Delano

By now, he had turned fully to face me but his hands were in his pockets, as he stared at me, drinking me in with his hot eyes.

I was dimly aware of Ria and Piers walking on either side of me, Camille, Beatrice and one of the nurses coming behind me with my babies who were watching everything solemnly. For once, Claude was behaving; he and Paddy marched ahead with Philippe darting about, taking photographs.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tony Beston, smiling as he watched us and of course, Schwartz, grinning like a fool, tears running down his cheeks.

And all the while, my husband watched me, his narrow, pale grey eyes fixed on my face.

As I almost reached him, I began to cry.

Suddenly, he was beside me, taking me in his arms and I lifted my face wordlessly to accept his hard, seeking mouth.

‘Little girl,’ he growled, the corners of his harsh mouth lifting for a fraction of a second.

“Always and forever. My little girl.’

And then he was kissing me, hard and stamping his possession on me for the world to see.

It was as though he had shouted,

“This is my Woman.’

He lifted his head, quirking an eyebrow at me and growled hoarsely, his eyes searching my face as I smiled tremulously, unable to speak.

‘F*ck you but I love you, woman.’ and he brought his mouth down again, his arms wrapped around me.

*

Dimly, I was aware of cheering and laughing, of Ria whooping and jumping up and down, no doubt ruining her lovely gown, said one part of my head.

Piers was also hooting in joy, Paddy jumping about like a berserk goblin and my fat Claude shouting at the top of his voice.

But I was lost in the arms of my lover and when he finally raised his head, I leant against him, breathless, full of love and humility.

“Lucien…” I whispered.

He groaned and kissed me again, and this time, I could feel his arousal.

*

“Damn it, mate!’ laughed Schwartz, his voice rough with emotion, ‘You need to stop kissing the bride and give the toast! We got another couple here, waiting to get married after you two!’

There was a chorus of laughter at that. I hid my face in my husband’s jacket, knowing that I was probably beet red.

But I was delirious with joy.

Lucien

He watched as his young wife stepped onto the patio, saw the expression on her mobile face alter as she took in the decorations, the music, and then, saw him…

First incredulity and then the joy.

He felt a clenching in his gut.

How he loved this little woman.

For a split second, he was transported to the night when he had reached the Fight Club, the Minotaur, after a long meeting. He had been drinking steadily but was not drunk.

The sight of a young girl in a dress that made her look like a harlot, a teenager actually, who had rammed into him as she flew away from someone, had not turned him on.

*

But when she turned, dazedly and met his eyes, he had looked again, seeing that curvaceous body, the confused big brown eyes, the lost expression, that wide, trembling mouth, it had caught him. And he had stopped to tug her along with him into the Club without a second thought.

Women were objects meant to be used and thrown, That had been his motto.

But eighteen-year-old Proserpina Martinez had changed all that.

She had been so young, so innocent and he had wanted to take her, to slake that sudden hunger in him.Exclusive © material by Nô(/v)elDrama.Org.

For she was the light he had craved and he wanted, in some miserable way, to bring her light into his darkness.

With his expertise, it had not been difficult to get her to succumb to him. But the force of his longing for her, had taken him by surprise.

They had made love, if that frantic coupling could be called making love, that night, on the carpeted floor of his Club office.

The cynical, mafia Don who was almost two decades older than her, and the lovely young woman with the body of a siren and the innocence of an angel.

She had been almost untouched, and he had not hesitated to take her ruthlessly.

And when she walked out, open hurt in her eyes, for he had been callous in his dismissal of her; he had wanted to chase her, to claim her.

To keep her.

Make her his Possession.

And he had succeeded in getting her. The second time around when he had met her, by sheer chance, he had made her his mistress.

Even then, he had been loathe to admit to himself how important she was to him. For she was his weakness and Lucien Delano did not admit to any weakness.

*

It was only after a tumultuous period of having her as his mistress, that she had realised that he did not love her with the same youthful abandonment, the same unquestioning loyalty and trust, that she had.

On discovering that he regarded her as being the latest in a stream of women, she had been heartbroken.

She had run away, pregnant and alone.

But not before a bout of bittersweet lovemaking that had made him open his eyes to the truth. He cared for her like no other and wanted only her.

By then, she had disappeared and he had been like a raging animal.

*

He had gone after her, dragged her back and after making sure that the twins were indeed his, he had announced that he was marrying her at a function before, his associates.

That night, egged on by his insatiable jealousy, he had forced himself upon her vilely. The result being Claude.

And the next day, in a bleak no ceremonious way, he had signed the register with her, making them man and wife.

They had suffered endlessly, mainly because of his insufferable ego.

Yet she had loved him throughout those dark days.

His Woman had been with him when his trusted friend, Shark, had turned out to be a traitor; she had continued to love him even after she had been through a harrowing kidnapping and had come to search for him when everyone else presumed him to be dead…

But he had never thought to give the one woman who held his heart in her hands, a wedding fit for her…

*

Now he stood, watching her greedily. Her hips swaying seductively, she began to walk out towards him, shyly, her head lowered as she saw the open desire in his eyes. Proserpina was egged on by Ria as the little girl chattered away excitedly.

A moment of quiet pride filled his heart as he watched the only woman he had loved in his life, come towards him, hesitantly, her eyes brimming, a smile trembling on her wide mouth, those dimples emerging…And surrounded by all their children, His children, the children she had borne him…

Beside him, Schwartz said softly,

“Boss, you are one helluva lucky man…” And for once, there was a tinge of envy in his deep voice, a touch of wistfulness.

Lucien shot him a glance and then, the moment was gone.

He saw the tears on his friend’s face and turned to look at his wife.

His family.

All six of his children were in the clothes he had ordered for them with help from Grace and Danielle, and their mother, the woman who held his life in the centre of her small, soft palm. He saw the tears running down her face and suddenly, all he wanted was to hold her in his arms.

Stepping forward, he pulled her into his arms.

As she lifted her head blindly to him, he thought of the first time he had seen her, the eyes wide with apprehension and something else, the passion that had flared between them when he first saw her.

A passion that had stayed alive till today.

He smiled and growled tenderly.

“Little girl. My little girl.’

And then he was kissing her, plundering those sweet lips that tasted like honey, oblivious to the people around as he held her anchored to him. She wound her arms around his neck, raising herself on her toes to respond, matching is hunger with her submission.

When he raised his head, threw s the look of glazed desire on her face, a look that he was familiar with, a look he had come to love.

He held her to him and growled,

‘Woman, if I kiss you again, I shall probably f*ck you right here.’

*

Paval

At that very moment, Paval was arranging for the quick disposal of a body; the battered body of a woman who had been killed by his nephew. of course, she had been a wh*re and therefore, completely dispensable but Paval sighed, it was getting messy. he would have to remove the youth to the USA very quickly and place him with the Argentinians.

Further training was necessary.

*

The boy was like a loose cannon. He needed to be roped in, in an atmosphere where the necessary discipline would be exerted. And it could not come from Paval, who was his uncle, who would be indulgent.

Shrugging his shoulders, Paval walked outside, his phone at his ear, giving the necessary instructions.