Owning the Mafia Don

Proserpina

We were back at Hollowford in the mansion I had grown to regard as home. There were some changes that had been created in the structure of the house; Shah had been shot in the hallway outside the children’s rooms. Lucien had had the entire place remodelled and now, the children had rooms on the same floor as he had his large penthouse suite bedroom. Ria was super excited to discover that now her father was just a hop skip and jump away. Piers commented on the view being good. Neither of them said a word about Shah and the terrible night the house had been attacked. But their unspoken glances, that strange bond shared by twins, alerted me to the fact that they remembered and mourned her in their own childish way.

Lucien was planning something for our anniversary; no, not our wedding anniversary but the anniversary of the day we had first met. It had come about when I had casually mentioned it one night as I lay in his arms, stroking his hirsute chest, playing with his flat nipples.

“Remember the night we met, Lucien?’ I asked, kissing his chest, rolling over to place my chin on his broad chest. He smiled indulgently at me, eyes narrowed to grey slits as his eyes wandered over my face, a hand absently stroking my back.

He grunted.

“I remember fu*king a little girl who was blown away by the act. Because she had never been taken in that way before.’ He said, his gruff voice filled with passion.

As I blushed in remembrance, I felt his shaft harden and he placed my hand on his large member, encouraging me to stroke him although we had just had a passionate bout of lovemaking.

Reaching down, I obliged him by sucking his c*ck deeply and then snuggled beside him. I kissed him and teasingly bit his nipple, drawing a warning rumble from his deep chest. I knew he was getting aroused and I would be made to pay for having excited him. His arm tightened around me and he pulled me so that I was close to him.

“It’s going to be five years since the night we met.’ I said reflectively, licking his flat nipple again, unable to resist provoking him, one hand stroking his member which was swollen and hard now.

In one swift motion, he had rolled over me and held my hands powerless in his large ones, looming over me as he growled hoarsely.

“Five years, eh? And we have four children to prove that, woman.’

‘And at this rate,’ he growled, teasing me by rubbing my sensitive clit, “At this rate, we shall have another four more in a few years.’

I laughed breathlessly, protesting but then, he lowered his head to take my nipple between his teeth and I was lost.

Almost a couple of hours later after he had used me thoroughly and made me scream out his name, begging for mercy, he lay, breathing raggedly, his body slick with sweat as he said, reminiscently,

‘We need to celebrate then, woman.’

I gasped, it was all I was capable of. My womanhood was sore and I whimpered as I shifted in bed.

He gave me an arch look; then dropping a swift, possessive kiss on my mouth, he rose and went to the door.

“Where are you going,’ I cried in alarm, knowing that my children or the maids might be around.

I made to swing my legs off the bed but he stopped me. Draping a towel around his muscled waist, he drawled,

“I need to make some calls.’ And casting a satisfied look over my dishevelled state, he added with a slight smile,

“Go back to bed, wife. You need it.’

I smiled and settled back, too exhausted to protest. Sometime later, I felt the bed sag as he joined me, throwing a hard arm around my breasts and pulling me to his hard chest, burrowing his face in my neck as we drifted off to sleep again.

***

A few days later, Schwartz strode into the garden as I stood, watching the kids splashing in the swimming pool. I turned to look at him, smiling. I was lazing around in my cut-off jeans and a large t-shirt that I had casually knotted in the front, exposing my navel.

Handsome James, as they called him, was always a sight for sore eyes, and today he was dressed casually but elegantly. The slim-fit beige chinos were as smartly tailored as ever, and his lean but athletic figure appeared to be as appealing as ever.

Crinkling his eyes, he grinned at me and asked lightly,

“Seen something you like?’

I burst out laughing and turned to him fully, smiling and shaking my head, Claude was on my hip, trying valiantly to grab Schwartz’ shirt with his grubby little paws. Schwartz picked him up, ignoring my protests that the baby would probably get his crisp, pristine shirt dirty.

“Big deal.’ Grinned Schwartz affably and pretended to throw Claude up in the air. The baby chortled excitedly at being tossed up and I cried out, grabbing Schwartz’s arm.

‘Be careful!’

He grinned down at me and admonished me lightly,

“Would I be careless with such a precious bundle?’

I dimpled at him.

After a while, he said in a gruff voice, almost mocking me,

“Hey, it’s your anniversary, right?’

I blushed and nodded my head, not meeting his eyes.

His keen eyes twinkling, Schwartz said drily,

“Lucien is arranging something big. For just the both of you.’

He laughed at my mortified expression.

‘Oops! I was not supposed to give away that state secret!’ he added in a mock repentant way.

I smote his arm playfully.

‘Hey kid,’ he said, his voice changing slightly,’ I have got a gift for you. Just a small memento.’

One of the maids had materialised and took Claude in her arms, moving away and leaving me with Schwartz.

Carelessly, he indicated a package that he had dropped on one of the deck chairs by the pool.

I hesitated. And then, curiosity getting the better of me, I queried,

“What is it, James?’ I pushed my hair away from my face and looked at him, uncertainly.

“Look at it.’ He said, his voice rough.

I stepped over and undid the wrapping carefully. Schwartz came and stood beside me, growling in exasperation.

“No,” I said, shaking my head firmly, ‘I hate to tear off the wrapping paper. Someone has done this with care. It deserves to be unpacked with care too.’

He said nothing but I felt his eyes graze my face lightly.

I took out the gift. And froze.

A framed photograph.

It was a picture of Lucien and me. Neither of us had been aware that we were being photographed. It had been taken when we were in the early days of our relationship, long before I had run away to Bhutan. During the days when I had been his mistress and blissfully ignorant of the ways of the world…

Lucien had an arm around my waist, proprietorially, lowering his face to mine, a look of arrogance, of knowing I was in his power, on his face: he had been about to kiss me and his lips were parted, the haughty look of knowing he had me where he wanted me, etched on his harsh face. The look, even though his face was in profile, showed his desire. And I?

I looked so young, so innocent, my face was glowing. My hair fell down my back and I was on my toes. My face was turned up to his, a look of intense adoration and love etched on it.

I stared at it, this was the story of our relationship, expertly captured by a skilful photographer, a candid shot.

Lucien would always hold me in his power and I would continue to adore him…

Schwartz took a harsh breath.

‘I took that photo. ‘ he admitted candidly.

And then,

“You don’t like it, huh?’ he said gruffly.Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.

‘No, I said, ‘No…It’s just that.’

Impulsively, I reached up to his handsome face to kiss him on the cheek to thank him for such a thoughtful gift.

But he grabbed my waist and held me, my kiss landing on his mouth. It was a swift, sudden moment and I was taken by surprise.

Shaken, I stepped back as he released me almost immediately. Schwartz turned away and spoke in a tortured voice,

“F*ck, Proserpina, don’t DO that!’

I touched my mouth with hands that trembled. The passion in the brief kiss frightened me.

I had always been aware of the attraction between us but Lucien simply took centre stage in my life, like a dazzling light that blinded every other thing around him. But yes, I had always known that Schwartz was not just interested in me as the wife of his friend.

I stood, shaking my head, wrapping my arms around my waist, and hugging myself.

‘I …I am sorry, it was just such a lovely photograph…’ I whispered.

Schwartz gripped my elbows and gave me a slight shake,

‘Damn it, Proserpina, I am trying to move on, to find another woman and then you…’

I shook my head weakly, I really wanted him to find a woman for himself and be happy.

Our bodies were close as he groaned,

‘Delano is my mate; he’s the closest I have to a brother… but you…’

He thrust me away and raked his hands through his fair hair as he took a deep breath.

I put out a hand and said softly,

‘James, You know how I feel about you…’

A cold chill ran down my back and I became aware of someone who had appeared behind us.

I turned around startled and met the piercing, cold grey eyes of my husband as he watched us, accusation in his stance, his powerful body as tense as a fighter in the ring, radiating his deep displeasure.

Schwartz and I stared at him, guilt written large on our faces…