Owning the Mafia Don

Proserpina

I stumbled, determined to get out of the room, pushing him away.

As I approached the door, he reached there before me, placing his large hands on the door, preventing me from opening it. He was behind me, and I could feel the heat of his body as he held me captive, preventing me from opening the door. He spun me about urgently, a look of wretchedness on his face as he growled.

‘”Woman, Little on. You have to listen to me,” he said, a quiet anguish in his voice. I turned to push him away but he captured my hands in one of his massive ones and spoke in a hoarse, urgent tone,

”I… I thought it was you…’ And as I stared at him, baffled, he went on, meeting my eyes, searching, a strange expression in them.

‘That night, I swear, I thought it was you with me, woman.’

I gaped at him and then hit him again, on his deep chest.

‘I…’ I sputtered in fury now,

‘Just how NAIVE do you think I am, you…you low-life scum?”

And dredging up an old abuse I had overheard someone use, I spat, “You… man whore?”

I was breathing heavily, and he held me captive against the door, his face grey with pain and exhaustion.

‘I know how it sounds, he said softly, shaking his head as I began to speak.

‘But you have to believe me, little one.’

He stepped away, allowing me space as he went on wearily,

‘That night, after the fight, after I heard about the attack, about Shah’s death, I went home and confronted the man who had been captured. All the others had been killed.”

I stood dumbly, recalling that evening. After the fight, we had made exquisite love. It was during the party that we received the news of the attack on our home and we rushed back.

Lucien had immediately packed me off with the children to the mansion on the outskirts of New York…

He turned away, his face haggard.

‘I killed the man, I killed him with my own hands after he had spilt all the information he could share.’

I gasped, covering my mouth with my hand. The raw admission to murder that came so naturally to him, left me reeling.

He thrust his fists into his pocket and sighed heavily.

‘I was exhausted, little one. I wanted to join you all, you and my children but I had to stay behind, to tie up a few loose ends…”

He stood without meeting my eyes, his back to me as he went on.

When he spoke his voice was soft, whimsical,

‘I went to bed, dreaming of you…”

He shook his head and turned to look at me. His eyes glowed with honesty, with a pleading that begged me to believe him:

“When I felt …I imagined it to be you. I was dreaming of you, Woman!”

He sighed harshly and went on,

” I was exhausted. But the feel of her hair, something alerted me…I could not help it. But I swear, the moment I saw it was not you, I pushed her away.”

There was a silence. He stood, his hands spread, palms facing upward, beseeching me.

And when I shut my eyes to hide the pain, he said in a deep, rough voice,

‘Believe me, you are…”

I turned away. The look of pain on his face hurt me, and wrenched the gut from me.

A small niggling of unease began to grow in men. I knew Lucien, I knew he would not hesitate to admit it if he had been sleeping with Catalina.

And I trusted him, despite everything.

“Give me some time, Lucien.’ I whispered, ‘I need some time.’

And wrenching open the door, I walked out, slowly, tiredly.

***

Lucien

He had seen the pain, the utter desolation in her voice, in her face as she took him through the tumultuous days they had shared.

It was true.

She had stood with him, despite the many times he had hurt her.

And what had he done in exchange, he asked himself bitterly, he had only broken her heart.

Again and again.

He turned away, shoulders sagging, hating himself.

Crossing to the bar, he poured a stiff drink for himself.

If she left him, he would not be the one to blame her.

But how would he live without them?

His woman? His children?

Groaning, he sank to the armchair and sat, drinking.

***

Proserpina

I walked along tiredly.

It was all too much and my body rebelled from the storm of tears that had swept through me. I just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep.

Sophie was in the corridor outside the children’s room and I saw the look of guilt on her face as she stormed past me, dragging Paddy.

The sounds coming from the nursery altered me. Ria was howling and I rushed in, terrified.

Piers was standing in the middle of the room, looking bereft. The maids were standing in a huddle. Baby Claude was probably with Beatrice and therefore, nowhere to be seen.

“What is it?’ I demanded as my daughter rushed into my arms and threw her little body at me.

‘ Mumma, Mumma…’ I scooped her into my arms, kneeling down to reach her.

‘Darling, what is it?’ I asked in alarm. Ria always tended to the dramatic but this time, she was really, truly agitated.

One of the maids came forward hesitantly and she murmured,

‘Miss Sophie was angry because Miss Ria pushed Paddy.’

She said this, avoiding my eyes.

I crinkled my brow in confusion.

“And?’ I prompted her, being emotionally spent and feeling a little slow in joining the dots.

Ria raised her tear-filled eyes to me and sobbed,

‘She said Mumma, you were going to leave Pappa. And that Pappa does not love you, does not love us…’

And with that, she burst into a fresh bout of wailing.

I felt the rage shoot up as I clutched my daughter to my chest.

How dare that woman say something like that to my child?

Without stopping to think, I rushed to Sophie’s room. Paddy was standing with her, looking bewildered. He made to rush to me but Sophie tugged him, holding him pinned to herself.

Her gaze, as she looked at me, was one of defiance and contempt.

“Sophie,’ I said in as level a voice as I could manage,

‘I really would like you to NOT say such things to the children…”

But she glared at me, a look of malevolence on her face as she spat, sneering,

‘So? I was just telling them the truth, right? I mean, he sleeps with whores like Catalina all the time; he slept with her the moment you …”

And then she stopped abruptly as she realized what she had just said.

I stared at her, shock and disbelief mingling in me.

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