Was I…dying…???
Aiyana glared at the Boss.
The man had bloodshot eyes, and days growth of beard and he looked like a crazed man.
She shot him a cold look.
“Lower your voice.’ she snapped and he bristled but once again, it was Schwartz’s warning hand that made him keep his temper under check.
‘Proserpina can’t …’
She took a deep breath and went on slowly,’ she’s gone into a coma…’ she began.
Lucien felt as though the breath had been forced out of his lungs by a huge fist.
‘What did you say?’ he growled, his eyes embers of fury. Danielle moved forward, she stepped closer to Aiyana threateningly,
“What the f*ck, did you say, bae?’ she snarled.
Aiyana stepped toward Danielle, her body language making it clear that she had had enough of Danielle’s thug-like demeanour.
‘I have had it up to here with your attitude.’ she said through gritted teeth, jabbing her forefinger into Danielle’s chest.
‘I know that woman in there, I know how much she is suffering. And I like and respect her. Which is more than what I would say about YOU. Or I would stuff it all.’
It looked as though the women would come to blows. Lucien was struggling to come to terms with the knowledge that there was a chance that Proserpina would not be there when he stormed in with his men, that he would lose her forever…
Barely aware of the drama unfolding before him, he stared into the distance, his mind racing.
In his role as eternal mediator, Schwartz came forward at once.
‘Ladies, step down; you can squabble later; after we have rescued Proserpina.’ he snapped.
‘We have more important things to do,’ he went on, jerking Danielle away forcefully and quelling Aiyana’s response with a look.
The two women who had been about to spar off moved away from each other.
Aiyana turned to look at Lucien again, her black eyes inscrutable.
“Your wife has been through too much. She cannot deliver the children on her own. They are planning to shift her to a hospital. The buyer wants her transported right away.’
She said it staring into his eyes and he felt again, the familiar wave of frustration rising up.
She cannot deliver the children on her own- the words went round and round in his head.
His woman, she was dying?
And then, a dull ache in his chest, he thought
She said Buyer. The man who had bought Proserpina, his Proserpina. BOUGHT. Because of him, only because of his deeds.’
He wanted to throw back his head and howl. Instead, he lowered his leonine head of grey for a while and then spoke, lifting his eyes to her, his voice a harsh sound of anger.
‘We will go ahead. And kill every bas*ard we see along the way.’
There was no sound from the waiting men but Aiyana knew that they would follow their Boss to the ends of the world and back.
“You have another call from Tristan f*cking Lord.’ snarled Danielle, glancing at the phone in her hand as it vibrated silently.
Lucien had not taken any calls from anyone; the younger man had been ringing him up for quite some time now but Lucien was too charged to answer any calls now.Material © of NôvelDrama.Org.
He shook his head briefly and Danielle cut the call again.
***
Tristan Lord stared at the phone in frustration and impotent rage.
He wanted to alert the Boss and tell him that he had arranged for Proserpina to be flown out immediately to a top hospital nearby. The woman needed urgent medical care. Too many drugs and too little food and water, combined with the stress had taken its toll on the young mother to be; she had gone into a coma.
He had already sent in a helicopter, having arm-twisted his old ally, Grigori for help.
But what was really making him feel uneasy, was the news that the Boyle brothers had sent him.
Rian Doyle had sent an urgent message. Apparently, old Ricci had been alerted by the bank authorities in the Cayman Islands and he was already snooping around. Tristan knew he would have to act fast.
For it had been Tristan Lord who had secretly squirreled away the millions from his father in law’s secret account, and had used the amount he had used to buy Lucien Delano’s wife. He had effectively paid for Proserpina’s freedom but Delano was unaware of it.
He knew that when his old father in law set out to find the truth, it would mean his love for his mistress, Melissa, would also come to the front. He had to reach out to Lucien Delano fast. But the man was studiously ignoring all the calls. Now he was getting increasingly worried.
He sighed in exasperation and raked his hand through his thick black hair.
Picking up the phone, he dialled again.
Time was running out rapidly. He feared that if they did not act swiftly, Don Ricci, his disgusting wife’s father, would put two and two together and make five.
It would not be too difficult to trace where the funds had gone. Tracing the path, figuring that it had something to do with the mysterious buyer of the Boss’ wife, would not be too difficult, he thought.
If Tristan had Rian and Oscar Boyle the Irish brothers who had helped him siphon the money, Don Ricci had men who were a lot more dangerous. He had trained professional hackers, and ruthless assassins on his side.
The Condor might quickly figure out that his son in law had been the one to buy Proserpina Delano. In which case, they would be in trouble.
He might contact the Argentine brothers, Isandro’s sons who would come to get Proserpina. They hated Delano and wanted to hurt him by taking his woman.
They had come the closest to matching his staggering price but Tristan had managed to out bid them using Don Ricci’s millions. Yet, when the fraud was discovered, he, Tristan Lord, would be dead and along with him, Melissa , the woman he loved and her children.
His son by Melissa, the baby Leo as well.
***
Proserpina
I was floating in a sea of white, surrounded by my children. My mother, the woman I had never seen, moved away, at the fringe of my consciousness. Then my children, Ria and Piers, wept.
Why were they weeping, I thought hazily. Claude, was there too, sitting like a forlorn little fat ball of dough.
I smiled. He wasn’t throwing a tantrum! What a wonder of wonders. And Lucien?
I sensed his anguish before I saw him. Older, grimmer, angrier and worried. He’s worrying about me, I thought in amazement, foolishly. He looked haggard and I still ached with love for this man who had made me his …
And then again I seemed to hear a voice, the voice of the Mother, the woman who had all but given me a new lease of life when I was desperate and in Bhutan. I had been a desperate young mother who had given birth to twins , who was unmarried and who had no idea what she could do. The Mother had rescued me, lifted me from the depression I would have sunk into.
Now I could hear her again, albeit from far away. Behind a blinding white light in the distance that seemed peaceful and inviting.
“You have to live, dear child,’ came the dulcet tones, coated with urgency. “You cannot die yet…’
As though in a dream, I found myself puzzling.
Was this how it felt to be dying?
Was I…dying…???
From a great distance away, the Mother’s voice rang out, this time with more force,
‘Not yet, Proserpina, not yet…’