Owning the Mafia Don

Lucien

That evening, when the woman, Ivica, trundled in, she had a couple of dead rabbits in her hand. She smiled craftily as she saw him watching her.

“Yes, my husband,’ she said in what was supposed to be a seductive purr but came out more like a menacing growl,’ Yes, I will make a delicious repast for you.’

Chuckling, she moved to the far interiors of the room. Lucien had figured out by now that the room was not as small as he had first thought it to be. it was large. The darkness made it appear to be small. But in the back, there was a kitchen. She forced the old man to his feet, and made him start the fire, and soon, the smell of cooking filled the air. But with a pang, Lucien thought of his wife, her pristine kitchen, the methodical way she went about her cooking and the amazingly delicious spread she whipped out, made him feel anger and a deep sadness engulf him. The woman appeared before him, a plate of rabbit stew in her hands and thick slices of bread that were old and stale.

‘Eat.’ she ordered and he accepted the plate.

The first mouthful made him want to gag; the woman’s cooking left a lot to be desired. But he was aware that she was standing over him, watching.

Lucien Delano had come up the hard way. If you cannot use brute force to achieve your objective, turn on the charm.

He looked up at the woman and grunted approvingly.

‘Delicious. ‘ he shoved another spoonful into his mouth and said,

‘More.’

She crossed her arms over her bony chest and beamed.

“So Stefan, you remember how well your Ivica cooks, eh?’

He raised his eyes and met her gaze coolly. She faltered a little, her eyes sliding greedily over his thick frame, and then bustled away to fetch him some more. from across the room, he saw the look of pure astonishment on the old man’s face. But Lucien went on eating, determined not to show his actual revulsion at the food which was way too salty and tasted terrible. He was going to get out of this hell hole and he would do it.

The woman returned again, giggling like a schoolgirl.

“Make sure you do not eat everything, my love.’ she said coyly.

He put out his strong hand and gripping her wrist he kissed her hand.

She stared at him for a moment and then sank to her knees, ‘Oh, Stefan, Stefan!’ she cried. ‘How I have longed for this day!’

Over her head, he met the eyes of the astounded-looking old man.

He looked away and stroked the head of the woman who was now laying her head on his lap and crying. he could have easily snapped her neck but then, he needed to know where she had hidden her gun.

*

Proserpina

The next day, the snow had intensified. We could not go out till late afternoon and I sat about, feeling irritated. The call home had also made me fretful. Tara and Dominique were down with a mild fever now. And Ria said that Claude had also been sneezing. I could hear Beatrice in the background, chiding her for worrying me but my heart was heavy as I handed the phone to Phillippe. his mother had come to the main house to speak to her son. I watched the animated expressions chasing across the boy’s expressive face as he spoke to Ria at the end of the conversation.

He was besotted with my daughter, I thought in some amusement. She was too young to understand but …I sighed. That would be a story for another day.

*

The next morning, Schwartz was discharged from the hospital. When we went to see him and bring him home, I found the incorrigible flirt in bed, surrounded by the nurses, old and young, as they fussed over him, bidding him a reluctant goodbye. he winked at them, teased them, and laughed, making their hearts go a flutter, I thought whimsically.

“Stop it now, you,’ I whispered as he kissed the hand of the oldest of the women, a gaggle of women still watching him as we left. Schwartz was leaning on a cane and supported by Phillippe. But he still played the debonair Casanova to the hilt, his jacket draped over his injured sniper’s arm which was in a sling.

He chuckled cheerfully.

“These are the little things that make life a happy one, hen.’ he said, winking at me as we settled into the car. Aiyana stared ahead stonily and I wondered for a fleeting second at their relationship. I had had such high hopes; imagined that they would find true happiness with each other. but the more I saw them together, the more it became clear that they were poles apart. And unlike Lucien and I, there was no attempt to accommodate the other. Schwartz seemed happy the way he was and in a flash, I knew that he would never be happy again, tied down to one woman. He loved to play the dandy lover; perhaps the only woman he had ever loved, had been his beloved Fionella.

He glanced at me from beneath his curling gold-tipped lashes and said, ‘

‘Penny for them, hen.’ I smiled and shook my head.

*

Lucien.

The day went by slowly. He heard the old man muttering as he was made to clean out the grate. When Ivica began to order him to fetch the firewood, Lucien spoke up.

“I can get it,’ he shouted.

They spun to stare at him. Ivica’s pale eyes narrowed.

‘Are you planning to run away, Stefan?’ she hissed.

‘No.’, he answered.

‘I know now that I did something very wrong.’

She stared at him, her jaw-dropping. the old man who had been on the ground, sat up on his haunches, blinking his watery eyes.

‘I should never have left you, Ivica.’ said Lucien, his voice forceful. The note of self-condemnation he was striving for came out a little cynical but the woman lapped up his performance.

The old man slowly got to his feet, holding the wall for support.

‘I want to help you.’ he said again.

Ivica opened and shut her mouth a couple of times. then she cleared her throat noisily and said, “Very well.’

And a spark of cunning entered her eyes as she went on,

“But you will be in chains.’This material belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.

The Mafia Don shrugged. He needed to get out of the house, do a visual recee, and plan to escape.

*

A few minutes later, he was out in the biting cold, the harsh winds blowing from the forest as he was led to the area where the logs were piled up. With a chain around his waist, he moved awkwardly, deliberately stumbling and shuddering,, although he was dressed in a couple of old jackets. Doing a rough calculation, he figured out that it had been a little over a month now that he had been inside the house,, and the wound had all but healed. Lucien had no intention of making himself exhausted but he needed to win the woman’s trust.

So he hefted the axe in his arms and swung it.

Ivica tittered as he missed the first few times. Approaching him arrogantly, she said,

“Here, let me show you, Stefan.”

When she swung the axe effortlessly, he watched her carefully. She was not large but she was strong. It was going to be difficult to bring her down. Wiping the beads of moisture from her upper lip, she turned and thrust the axe at him.