Owning the Mafia Don

Proserpina

When we finally stepped out of the bathroom, the twins were stirring.

“Go to your own rooms!” bellowed Lucien.

Ria sat up, rubbing her face and yawning hugely, her eyes searching and Piers peered at me short-sightedly.

‘”Mumma?” he asked.

Ria beamed.

‘Mumma is smiling, and she is turning pink. She is fine!”

They whooped and ran out of the room as I blushed again. I sank onto the stool. Lucien had not let me get aroused; instead, he had bathed me gently.

Lucien came to me, his bathrobe fastened loosely around his powerful physique.

Tilting my chin, he looked at my face, my swollen lips and bent down to kiss me hungrily.

“You can stop feeding the little ones now, right?” he asked hoarsely, raising his head after a long time, roughly fondling my heavy breasts.

I was pressed against his body, mindlessly lost in a state of bliss.

“Another month, Lucien, please.” I murmured as he fondled my heavy breasts hungrily, his fingers gently twisting my large, hard nipples.

He swore and kissed me again, hard.

Finally, we were dressed. I sat, drinking in the sight of my lover as he prepared to leave.

“Are you going to …go? Away?” I asked hesitantly, meeting his eyes in the mirror.

“When you are feeling better.” he replied in his deep baritone, coming to stand behind me. I leaned against his knees as I was sitting on the low stool before the dressing mirror.

He pulled out a small necklace from his pocket.

“I forgot to give this to you before I left.” he grunted.

My breath caught in my throat.

It was a larger replica of the necklace he had given me earlier, the diamond key that signified that I belonged to him. He bent slightly and slipped it around my neck. The key, a set of diamonds, shimmered in the light as it rested on my full breasts. He pulled me to my feet and kissed the valley where the key rested, gently sinking his teeth into one full mound before stepping away.

“Ah, woman” he groaned once again before releasing me.

“I have work to do.” he announced thickly and strode out.

I sat a while longer, fingering the key reflectively. A similar one had been ripped off from my throat by Dmitri Rudenko when he had abducted me.

Shutting my eyes, I determined to shut off the terrible memory.

Smiling slightly, I studied the pendant in the mirror, stroking it again and again.

***

Dmitri

Dmitri Rudenko stared out of the window of the small wooden cottage tucked away in the Slovak Ore Mountains of. Surrounded by dense forests, he knew that if he lay low long enough, he might be able to move out of the area and make a meandering way into Afghanistan. Once there, he could work out a new identity for himself and return to Europe.

But the sense of uneasiness within him was growing. Something was not right. The explosives that that stupid cu*t, Sophia, had been sent with, to detonate herself and destroy the St. Claire family, had not worked; the woman had been shot and killed before she could do any damage.

His gaze skidded across the small room to the boy sitting in the corner. He was perched on a bed. Dmitri swore as the child looked up and met his eyes, eyes that were similar to his. His sister’s son. His nephew and the only remaining person in his bloodline.

Dusek Varova.

Dusek, he called softly. Duska.

The boy clambered off the bed. He was around ten or eleven years of age, a stony-faced little fellow. His dying mother had sent his to his uncle, a rather reluctant relative who had accepted him with no real cheer. Duska was not a boy who had grown up in a happy environment.

His father had left his mother after years of abusing her and beating her. But the boy had been told that his mother deserved it, from a young age. Her piteous cries had barely entered his consciousness.

His mother had been relieved when his father disappeared and never returned. She showered her love on her youngest son, Dusek.

But she soon realised that there was a deep evil in him. Something that had scared his poor mother, Jarka.

He shared his uncle’s love of cruelty.

He had regularly beaten small animals to death and had enjoyed hurting those younger than him. When she was dying, she had begged her brother to take the child with him. A village woman whose life had been bound to small plot of earth she farmed, she had no idea that Dmitri was an even greater monster than her son.

Now Dmitri gripped the young boy’s arm and said, staring into the child’s cold, expressionless eyes,

“If I die, you must go after the man who killed me, do you hear?”

The boy nodded.

He had already seen a violent side of this uncle and he respected, nee, admired that.

‘The man’s name is Delano. Lucien Delano and he might kill me. But you, you must live to avenge me. Yea?’

He shook the child’s bony arm lightly. The boy met his eyes coldly.

“Ano,’ answered the boy in Slovak,’ Ano. Yes.’

***

Lucien

He was in his study in the house, surrounded by the familiar sounds, albeit muted, coming from outside.Còntens bel0ngs to Nô(v)elDr/a/ma.Org

He had been studying the reports sent by his second in command, Schwartz. Both he and Aiyana had settled into a small, inconspicuous apartment that had been arranged for by one of his colleagues in Slovakia.

Now they would smoke out the man. Lucien had wanted to be there to cut to the chase but his wife and family were top priorities.

***

His children were running about on the lawns, laughing, shouting and screaming.

Thrusting his fist into his pocket, he stood at the wide windows, bulletproof as they were, staring outside. Ria and Piers raced about with Paddy bumbling around. The twins took care to see he was included in their game, he noticed absently. They had begun to include him and treated him like a sibling.

Lucien Delano had never had the luxury of playing in such a carefree way, he mused. He had had to take care that he was not exploited sexually by any of his mother’s seedy customers. It had not been easy but he had learnt to slink away when some of them turned up. Once his mother was high, she was oblivious to what was going on around her.

Bitterly, he thought of his growing up years; he remembered hiding in the alley behind garbage cans on rainy nights as s little boy, sneaking furtive look around to avoid predators. And not the four-legged types.

Now he sighed and sipped from his tumbler.