Owning the Mafia Don

Proserpina

I stared at Sophie in astonishment.This is from NôvelDrama.Org.

She had an intense look on her face, a strained look.

I did not know how to react.

Was I supposed to be angry? Or did I laugh out loud?

I chose the second option.

I laughed.

She stared at me, baffled as I laughed.

Her face turned pink, the freckles standing out prominently. Indignation warred with embarrassment on her face.

Beatrice hurried in, looking anxious. She came to stand me beside me, placing a hand on my shoulder, protectively. She was not too fond of Sophie.

“What is it, ‘she asked gently, but her eyes were trained on Sophie, angry and protective.

I smiled up at her reassuringly, shaking my head.

“She just made me laugh, Bea’ I dimpled, squeezing the older woman’s hand fondly.

Sophie rose and left the table, with vivid red spots on her cheeks.

I sighed.

I missed Grace sorely. She had been there, a bulwark, someone who would shoulder me when I was tired and upset. Not someone who would quiz me on my imaginary love life.

Suddenly, I felt terrible. it was all too much. The feeling of deja vu as Lucien rejected me, the new baby on the way; being accused of having an affair with the one man I regarded as a friend…

The tears began to flow, slowly at first and then a torrent. Wrapping my arms around Beatrice plump waist, I let out all the unhappiness bottled within me.

She stroked my head, saying,

“There now, honey, there, there…’

I do not know how long I wept. When I quieted down, old Beatrice accompanied me to my bedroom. I slid in between the sheets, glancing out at the gardens, the rolling green lawns. The first light of dawn was colouring the sky with a rosy hue. Lavender, I thought sleepily and fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.

But strangely enough, I slept well after that.

***

Sophie

I could have kicked myself for asking her that, I told myself later. Her look of incredulous astonishment was all the answer I needed.

Then she began to laugh, and I could hear the slight tinge of hysteria underlying it. Old Beatrice waddled into the kitchen at that time and made things worse, sending me a lethal look.

I marched out, defiantly. And was outside when I heard Proserpina begin to sob great heaving sobs. Like a person who was in deep pain. My heart clenched. She was going through a rough time, I realised.

And I had made it worse for her. It had not been my intention at all. Jeez, she was one of the few women I really liked.

Now as she wept, her sobs muffled in Beatrice’s arms, I felt terrible.

She had accepted Paddy, had welcomed us with open arms into her household. And I had hurt her by questioning her obvious love for her husband. Damn, had I not seen the bond between them myself?

I wanted to kick myself.

She was putting up a brave front for the sake of the kids, but this was a woman who was hurting.

Slipping into my room, I glanced at Paddy, who was sleeping, a grin on his angelic face.

I sighed.

***

Proserpina

The next morning, Schwartz seemed a little preoccupied. When he sat down for breakfast the next day, he was scowling.

“Pancakes not the way you want them, James?’ I asked with a smile. He was a total foodie and could eat as many pancakes as were prepared in the kitchen. And still, managed to look lean and handsome.

Sophie had entered the room with an awkwardness about her. I smiled distantly. I could not manage more.

He looked up. The morning sun was streaming into the room and the twins were tucking into pancakes and maple syrup. They devoured stacks of pancakes when they were in the mood and I always made sure the batter was sufficient for all the mouths we had to feed.

Little Claude sat on his high chair, glaring at the world and banging his spoon on the plate. Claude, I had discovered, enjoyed being disruptive. He would be a handful when he grew up.

I gloomily saw him heading a group of his father’s goons in the future.

He was gangster material all right, I thought grimly as he waved his spoon and brought it down on the head of the nanny who had been trying to feed him. All accompanied by a shrill cry.

Bits of pancake were scattered around him and it looked like a war zone, I thought.

Paddy sat beside Piers, gazing at the ceiling, occasionally chewing.

Sophie was avoiding my eyes this morning, but her gaze kept drifting towards Schwartz surreptitiously.

That was when I caught on.

She likes him, I thought in shock. Not just likes, she adores him!

She looked up and caught my gaze, blushing furiously. She rose abruptly and hurried out. Beatrice scowled after her, hands on hips.

“Why you got her here is a mystery to me.’ She snapped at Schwartz who looked mystified and not a little upset.

“Something wrong?’ he queried, turning to me, noting my red-rimmed eyes for the first time as I handed him another stack of fresh pancakes.

“Hey, little one!’ He cried in consternation.

“I’m good.’ I said, trying to smile and failing.

Schwartz looked at me, a solemn expression on his face.

“I have to leave. I am going to Hollowford first, need to fly to Uzbekistan at the end of the week. I have to attend a meeting with Kobe.’

Ria erupted into shrill protests on hearing that, joined in by Claude who had no idea what was happening but wanted to be in the thick of things anyways.

Schwartz smiled tightly,

“Boss’s orders.’

My mouth turned down in disappointment. Having Schwartz was fun; he kept us all in high spirits, teasing Beatrice, fooling around with the kids and keeping me laughing… I would miss him so much.

And then I asked, in puzzlement,

“Lucien was supposed to leave for Uzbekistan, right?’

Schwartz’s face darkened.

“He usually goes there, yes. But this time he wanted me to go.’

I frowned. But I said nothing.

***

Lucien set out on a spree of bringing down anyone who was remotely attached to Dmitri. At first, he worked on those who had been Dmitri’s associates in the past.

The men found their factories going up in flames mysteriously.

Their homes were attacked.

Their trusted lieutenants’ were found murdered.

Viciously.

Gradually he tightened the net, getting closer to those who were in the inner circle of the Far Eastern gang lord himself.

Brutally.

Mercilessly.

Soon the word was out on the streets.

Lucien Delano was on the rampage.

***

Catalina looked up, her thick lips turning down at the corner, as Worthington walked in.

He looked harassed.

Like he had seen a ghost.

His normally dapper clothing was slightly rumpled.

Catalina patted her bed. Two of her favourite boys were lying beside her.

One had snorted enough c*ke to send him to heaven. Or hell.

‘Come to join me, lover?’ she crooned, looking up from her phone.

***.

Worthington looked at the large woman, half-clad as always, lying on the bed. He could only feel a mild irritation.

Did she ever do anything but have sex, he thought in annoyance.

“What’s eating you, smarty boy?’ she sneered, spreading her legs and touching herself as she looked at him, ‘You want something that I can give?’

She laughed uproariously at his expression and cuddled her companion on the right who was not too far gone.

Worthington spoke, his voice clipped and angry.

“Dmitri is furious.’

He did not want to say, like a raging bull, but that was the effect he had got after a five-minute conversation with the ruthless man.

Lucien Delano had destroyed a factory of Dmitri’s that had been in a remote area close to the Mexican border. It had gone up in flames and one of Dmitri’s close relatives who had been in charge of the unit had been found charred to death.

Catalina frowned.

At least, she tried to, but the botox on her forehead made it look like a mere twitch.

She reached for one of her boys, playing with his c*ck as she said deliberately,

‘So why have you come running to ME, Mister Prissy Pants?’

Worthington lost his temper,

“You stupid c*nt, that man is dangerous. Why did you offer to help him?’

” Help him?’ She screamed, furious herself now.

“I only sent a message that Delano wanted me as his Card girl for the bl*ody fight!’ she exclaimed heatedly.

Catalina reared up, kneeling on the bed, her eyes flashing, huge chest heaving.

The boy who was dr****d, moaned and thrashed, and she kicked him onto the floor in fury.

“Shut up, you idiot.’ She snarled and, rising, stalked out of the room. Worthington trotted after her.

“We need to do something,’ he panted.

“Or’, he added ominously,’ as she headed to the bar in her living room,

‘We might either end up in Dmitri’s troughs of acid.’

His face whitened as an ominous thought struck him,

“Or Lucien Delano will send his goons after us.’